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The Point of Why I Ride a Bicycle
I forgot to mention in my story that Wambaugh's son Dave was a room-mate of my old fiance from the early '90s. No sh*t. We called him Big Wave Dave. One of the funniest guys I've ever met. There was a waitress at the Old Ox that he had a crush on. We called her "Bug Eyes" because she had these huge bulging eyes. The first time he saw her he said "she may have bug eyes, but she has a righteous toilet". I saw "The Choir Boys" and "The Onion Field" with my mom when I was really young. I have been a fan ever since, and have read most of Joe Wambaugh's books.— September 1, 2010 9 p.m.
The Point of Why I Ride a Bicycle
He did, Nan! What a great evening it was. San Diego needs to work on its bike paths a little, but it is a great city for cyclists scenery-wise. Tom Hamm's is so super-cool old school.— September 1, 2010 6:17 p.m.
North Park’s Veg-N-Out Serves Burgers without the Burger
This place has the best veggie "junk" food in town!! I love to eat there. The chili burger is to die for. And their onion rings are heaven.— September 1, 2010 5:16 p.m.
Prop 8
I wanted to revisit this because I read something that answered my question as to why someone's religious beliefs should be discounted when they vote. I do not agree with people using religion and God to sway their vote, but I could not come up with a plausible explanation as to why, if it was deeply ingrained in them and they would not vote any other way, their vote should be discounted. Unfortunately we cannot ban people with deeply held religious convictions that effect how they vote from voting in matters such as Prop 8, but Jack Cohen wrote this in a letter today in the UT, and I think it may explain to some why voting in this manner is wrong. He wrote "....This combination of religion and politics, the kind we are fighting against in Iraq and Afganistan, has no place in America. Our soldiers are dying to preserve the separation of politics and religion. While our personal behavior and lifestyles may be guided by our religious convictions, our government and our leaders are guided by laws, laws that are free from religious dogma". This was well said. It is not going to change people from voting with their religious beliefs unfortunately, but one can hold out hope that the higher courts will prevail in these instances, as they did with Prop 8.— September 1, 2010 4:43 p.m.
Short Story Jam - You're Invited To Join In!
This was one of a dozen fantasies flitting through Mitch's brain as he held her hand. That somehow this wonderous creature was brought to him to put an end to his stale cookie-cutter life. Maybe she was a spy, sent by corporate to report details of his staff's shortcomings back to them...The bus lurched to a stop, and Mitch came back to reality. He thought of his brother again. God, would the guy ever get a girlfriend or at least get a life? He'd done enough for Stanley, what with the job and everything, but Stanley still had a problem with him, carrying some sort of chip on his shoulder. Thank god he got that telescope. He’d been keeping himself busy with it. Mitch realized he was still holding Linda's hand. He dropped it abruptly. What if someone from work saw him? This was not a fantasy. Linda was real and if he did not move quickly, she would be lost to him forever.— September 1, 2010 11:22 a.m.
Heavy Handed Memories
Keep the paperweight, Daniel. You will be glad you did.— September 1, 2010 8:54 a.m.
Notes From A Second-Story Window
This made me laugh out loud - "A couple of weeks ago I was preparing to prep dinner" - I know that feeling well:) This was a really good story. I hope you send that e-mail.— September 1, 2010 8:32 a.m.
Short Story Jam - You're Invited To Join In!
In his dream he sees himself as a young boy. His mother is preparing breakfast, while he amuses himself with the bookshelf, arranging books in alphabetical order, first by title, then by author, then back to title. Rythmic and soothing, he finds a source of control in these rituals. His reverie is shattered when his older by two years brother, Mitch, comes into the room and sneers at him, asking "what are you doing now, retard?". Mitch then proceeds to rip the books out of the bookcase and put them back in no discernable order, causing Stanley to experience shallow, gasping breaths. He starts to hyperventilate, screaming at Mitch to stop, stop, stop. His mother runs from the kitchen and slaps him open palmed across the face. As he falls to floor, he catches a glimpse of Mitch's smirk...Stanley woke with a start, sweat pouring off of him, and saw the dawn light creeping in through the crack in the curtains. He felt something change in him, some feeling that things needed to change, yes, things needed to change, but most of all he needed to change. He needed to be worthy of those blue, blue eyes.— August 31, 2010 1:33 p.m.
Short Story Jam - You're Invited To Join In!
Startled to discover someone watching him, Stanley staggered backward, away from the telescope. "This was a mistake!" he cried out. He was furious with himself, unable to collect his thoughts. "Why can't I just look, like everyone else?!" He stopped and thought back to his brother, Mitch. Fate had dealt Stanley Hill a cruel blow. His brother Mitch had always been his mother's favorite. Milk-toast Mitch, that pasty middle-class postal drone married to that underwhelming wretch of a thing, father to those two snot-nosed brat ex-cons in training. How he loathed that fact that his brother had been responsible for securing him his current postal clerk position at the very same institution he previously decried. This loathing was only intensified by Mitch’s position at the postal service – that of Stanley’s supervisor. His obsessive-compulsive behaviors started young as a result of this lopsided doling out of maternal approval.— August 31, 2010 11:47 a.m.
Short Story Jam - You're Invited To Join In!
One the eve of the upcoming blue moon, Stanley had a thought. "What if I don't indulge this time? What if I changed the ritual I have been participating in for these last decades?" Stanley was, if anything, a creature of habit. Straying from his daily rituals caused him great distress. Everyday he partook in the same routine. He would rise, eat a bowl of corn flakes with full-fat milk and a sliced banana, drink a cup of coffee while sitting on the toilet reading Isaac Asimov, shower his massive girth, then comb the stringy strands of remaining hair over his exposed pate.— August 31, 2010 10:36 a.m.