Why?

Why do sliced tomatoes taste better than cubed tomatoes?

Not much today except for a swollen foot that doesn't want to cooperate. Still can't get out to try for some photos. Bummer.

I'm having a relapse to my "hippier" days, by allowing my hair—what little I have—to grow long. It's down to my collar and half-way down my big—but sexy—ears. No beard or mustache this time around, though. I don't plan on taking a bath but maybe once a month, and dirty facial hair tends to attract small critters that manage to get in one's nose and mouth. An old, overweight, arthritic, and white-haired hippy. You gotta love me, because I love you.

I've a reefer necklace and a peace pin somewhere that I need to dig up. Tie-dyes, flip-flops and bell bottoms for social occasions like concerts, love-ins, and Sunday peace marches. Cut-off raggedy-ass jeans, a blue polka-dot bandanna for headwear, and a Pink Floyd shirt for every day should complete my transformation. No underwear! Ever!

I still have my water pipes, bongs, roach clips, and hash pipes hidden away. The old Mother Jug is awaiting the day of the new revolution. She's a great shot-gunner! Easy Rider will flick at my pad this weekend, and Cream's Disraeli Gears will be spinning on the 33. Karma will be good and I'll be freakin'!

Peace, my children.