this nothing of words

Last day in Berkeley watching Shomer, Bobzilla’s crazy dog. There is something very not right about his brain – but he likes me, one of the few people, once he remembers who I am – that guy who is around & feeds him, loves on him, when Daddy’s gone.

I don’t really like Berkeley, at all. Perhaps some of the rudest people I have ever encountered. If they aren’t shoving their noses in your business, they’re ignoring the simple fact that a response is nice, customary, when someone else says “thank you” or something along those lines. Maybe it’s just the ones that I come across, but as far as the laws of probability go, that would make it quite… improbable.

Just writing, trying to cure myself from the affliction of one-paragraph writing that I’ve let Facebook taint me with… it’s almost like trying to write a second novel, where I expect too much from myself & feel that anyone who has read me for a while expects the same – but it will be something that I need to grow into again, it seems. Until then, until I’m able to write again, or at least babble reasonably well like I was doing back here , just this nothing of words- but it’s at least a re-start.

If anyone knows how to not have it skip


line every time I press return, please let me know – I can’t figure it out. (Assuming, of course, that anyone reads me anymore…)

A few more things to do – laundry, clean up the motorhome while I have electricity & can vacuum. I’ve got some more painting done on it, outside & in, hung some fabric, creating more of a home.

At least I get a lot done while I’m in Berkeley…


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