Life is like a mop. Sometimes life gets full of dirt and crud and hairballs and things and you gotta clean it out.

I hate moving. No, that's not quite accurate. I hate packing. Yeah, that's what it was, I hate packing. Oh well, you can't really move without first packing so I suppose I should get started. Wish me luck.

Back to procrastinatin', which I love and am quite good at, by the way. Aaron left today, he's moving back in with his parents so he can save money to build a surf camp in Nicaragua. "We're sending Bibles to El Salvador, son." I'm going to miss that guy, it was so fun having him back in LA. I don't have any old-time male friends in LA anymore. Drew is MIA with the cops in Altadena. Everyone else is gone. Sure, the new pals in the camera department are fun but it just ain't the same.

I drove up to Santa Barbara yesterday afternoon to visit Doug and Meaghan and pick Aaron up. Nice drive. I love driving up the coast in California, makes me want to shoot photos, move out of LA, write tight and concise prose about Salinas, and generally be creative. And surf. So much good surfing along this coast. We ate at Hungry Cat in Santa Barbara and here is a photo of my braised clams with chorizo and garbanzo beans. Yeah, it was so good I took a fucking photo of it. That's good.

Here are some crappy iPhone photos of my beloved Cali coast. The one on the right reminds me of a Mark Rothko painting, sort of although I'm not saying I'm any where near that talented. I'm just saying...

Peace out, bitches!