He puts on an old record
and the needle goes up and down
and blood runs into the grooves
and turns around
and around and around.

Why has everyone stopped dancing?

Woops, murderers own the planet.

I was walking back from the library, listening to songs, I looked up and there was an elderly man coming the other direction. I was in a fantastic mood, ready to greet him with a grin.

When he saw me, he was about twenty feet away and crossed Scripps Lake Drive to avoid me.

Shortly thereafter, I passed a family who briefly made eye contact, broke it and didn't return my greeting.

I'm sick of this. One moment of baseless fear renders a vegetarian with a backpack full of poetry into a bearded menace.

As nice as Scripps Ranch can often be, I'm getting claustrophobic.