Stupido

            I made a left turn onto the boulevard from the gas station when I noticed a car driving with its lights off. The car passed me as I merged onto the boulevard. What a moron I said to myself. I was behind the car when it slowed to look for curbside parking. I wheeled around him. I peeked in my rear view mirror. The guy had changed his mind and was driving in a confused manner behind me. Big dummy!
                I came to a red light. The car still had his lights off. I was in my convertible. I stuck my arm in the air and waved at the guy to get his attention. I was trying to be helpful. He didn't see me, or couldn't understand what I was trying to say. Stupido. I gave up. I drove up a half a block and stopped to make a right turn at the signal. A car heading in the opposite direction and making a left turn flashed his lights. I figured it was for Stupido behind me. I looked in my mirror to see if Stupido got the message, but Stupido wasn't there. Weird. Just then, I happened to look down to check my gas gauge, but my console was dark. Oh crap! I quickly switched my lights on. I sunk into myself. Man, I'm Stupido.

The Art Walk

            I hung out with my people on Saturday. There was an art walk in the neighborhood. The Moryork gallery was open which isn't always the case. I had a chance to go inside and see Clare Graham's work for the first time. I was stunned and amazed like most people who see his work. My favorite piece was a cabinet he made from Scrabble letters.
            While walking down the street I noticed a nondescript sign on a fence post. It read, "singing bowls Sunday 9 p.m." I'm a sucker for singing bowls, so I showed up last night. The place was essentially a big yard with a fire pit. There were a couple of couches and a mess of chairs around the pit. I found myself a chair and acted like I belonged. I didn't see any singing bowls. I just sat there and waited. There was a kid teaching a lady how to play the guitar and a few other people milling about. Three men showed up with drums. I figured the singing bowls were not far behind.
            The singing bowls never showed up. Instead, I found myself playing a djembe in a drum circle. And I met an old hippy woman who sells cookies at the Rose Bowl swap meet and lives in an RV. She was impressed, nearly envious, when I told her I built my own cabin under four trees.