I’m not a poetry guy, but I think I just realized why poetry readings exist.  I just started reading Beowulf again; a translation that tries to maintain the line-for-line structure of the original Old English text.  Reading normally, silently doesn’t fit for some reason.  The lines just run together and I find myself daydreaming about that girl in the bar that one time that I never called.  So, I started reading it out loud to myself.  I don’t know what my roommate and his girlfriend think, I bet they think I’ve lost it and start setting me up on blind dates.  I hope they enjoy Norse battle epics.

I remember an occasion in high school when I discussed with a friend what it would be like if a year’s worth of rain fell all at once—dozens of inches of water falling as a solid sheet before slamming into the earth. We talked about how odd it would look, and how much damage the phenomenon might do.

The rain that fell at dusk reminded me of that hypothetical deluge. We got indoors after a spectacular boat tour through Doubtful Sound just in time to watch the sky abandon its moisture in a completely manic frenzy. Every horizontal surface had standing water on it. All the gutters along the roof failed, unable to shunt off the volume quickly enough. Visibility was comically reduced. I thought back to the monsoon rains that seemed to visit San Diego every April, but this was far more impressive.

The best part of it all was staying dry while nursing a beer. (Speight’s Gold, my favorite NZ ale thus far. Brewed in Dunedin.)

As I rode to work this morning, a homeless man across from Balboa Park shouted at me as he sat amongst his belongings, which were heaped into several large piles. He was holding up a magazine and ranting about Dick Cheney at the top of his lungs. About a mile further down Park Blvd, another transient leapt at me as I passed the bus stop he was waiting at. “Rawrrr!” he grumbled, as he flailed his arms and jumped across the sidewalk toward me. I gave him a quizzical look as I flew by.

Two vagrants in under five minutes? This could only mean one thing: I’m another year older.

Kimiko is whisking me away to Las Vegas in a few hours, and we’re both humming with excitement. Big thanks to her and Mike for the planning and financial backing. I’ll post photos in a few weeks (there’s a backlog, don’t whine).

At work, after lunch, my co-workers presented me with a banana-cream pie and a 24 oz. King Cobra. Apparently, there are also a couple Natty Ice forties and an Arrogant Bastard in the fridge for next week. It seems that people have ascertained that I am fairly easy to please.