Every Block a Short Story

A secluded cove off the tranquil coast, somewhere in the middle of the Northern Hemisphere. You'd think you were in the tropics.



Nahh, it's just flying out over Malibu on the way home last night. Plot won't know what he accomplished in the two days working in S.City until he gets .MP3 copies in the mail today, but it felt good while they were doing it.

In Stiletto City, every block is a short story. Driving down D. Blue's block yesterday, Dave spotted a slumped-over street person hunching down the street. The guy had really long shaggy and ratty hair and gray stubble. He looked like he was a hundred years old and the last ninety had been in solitary confinement. "Oh, that's the lead singer in my old band," Dave said. "He's the one who first told us about marijuana."

"No sh__," Plot said.

The Official WMD of Stiletto City must the Leaf Blower. They have banned water use for cleaning up lawns, so there are armies of Latino guys blasting their way through every neighborhood, armed with gas-powered leaf blowers which are basically hair dryers with lawn mower engines. You can't hear yourself think. You have to wait until there's a pause in the racket, then hurry up and press RECORD and hope you get done before they start up again. Or a helicopter flies over.


Mummy P. is doing OK. Repetition is part of the package when you get older and hers isn't getting too much worse, though her hearing is. She smokes outside when Plot is there and claims she rarely smokes inside when he's not, but she doesn't realize she drops cigarette ashes all over the house, so when Plottie walks in the door after working with D. Blue all day, the smell of smoke can just about knock him over.

"Who, me?" is the expression used by his mom, as Plottie walks around, brushing up the various pile-lets of ashes.

It took The Great Plotnik an hour and a half last night from touchdown to the SFO air-train to BART to walking up the hill to walking in the door. He was already an hour late for TIAPOS but he got over there anyway. Motorhead's back from his stay in Tennessee and Bombshell looked particularly glamorous in her black frock. Her story, of course, was about how she felt like hell.

And Mush and Pickle and Domin-Nik. Large Pants will be back at the end of the month. Then we can feel whole again.