The wireless network is active, and Mark built a sweet-ass cabana bar here, complete with a deck. I'm gonna be grabbin a camera soon and makin' all y'all jealous.

Bus ride was a slice of life as always; Bay to Arcata is a great stretch of road for weirdos. The best moment was the stop at a little deli/bus stop in Rio del Mar, a true slice of future America. The Arab (or maybe Persian) family that owns the place knows the bus driver (who's black) and mix up nice with the Native fisherman and the east-bay redneck hiphop whiteboys (that strange countryfied accent they have in Richmond). Everyone's happy at the Rio del Mar smoke break.

And it's all smooth and good up at the house; Mark's nursing that broken collarbone with a sling, but he's got some nice bourbon and plenty o' Pabst and we do a little catching up and I get a drag off surfer Paul's spliff, sit in the hot tup and Ohm for fifteen minutes. It's nice. You don't have to suck in your gut round here. I got high hopes.