The Fog

The fog rolled in as I drove towards Santa Monica. When I left North Hollywood, it was all blue skies, sunny and hot. I was dressed in shorts, sandals, and a Hawaiian shirt. I parked in the garage and was glad that I brought a change of clothes. This wasn't the first or the last time that I will change clothes in a public parking garage. Sometimes you just got to do what you got to do.

Now in sweat pants, shoes, socks, a long sleeve shirt and a knit cap; I head out into the increasing fog. The shit is just rolling in. Can't say that I ever been in this sort of thing before. Getting thicker by the minute, visibility drops from 100 to 50 yards. From Ocean Blvd. you couldn't see the pier or the surf.

With a lit cigar in my hand and my iPod in my ears I walked down to the water. I love walking. . . and I love cigars. Walking along the crashing waves has always been like a reset button for my psyche. It's a good life.