Prescott Az | Arts and Crafts Fair | Thumb Butte

My camp at Thumb Butte

Sunrise in the forest.

Shower room

This tree brought an owl to camp.

At the Arts and Crafts Fair

Courthouse Plaza

Setting up

Mark Nelson with his copy of The Eye of the Dragon: Stalking Castaneda. Mark bought the book at the fair, and came back a week later to get three more copies for his friends. He said he liked it a lot. Mark played one of the characters in the film Beyond Lemuria Home

Arcosanti AZ | Some Pictures With a Thousand Words Each | A Brief Visit

The road to Arcosanti

An empty camp – The workshop has been moved

The Wedding tree above a dry riverbed

My old cubby, a different design

More about Arcosanti here: Arcosanti : Home

Papago Park I Hole in the Rock | Wilko

Papago Park

Hole in the Rock

Papago Park, a view from the hole in the rock, it is cool here.

You can fish in this small lake, but swimming is not allowed.

And today is 104 degrees fahrenheit, so a jump in the lake would have been nice. Nothing like the desert to help you appreciate water. While still in Tucson I was walking one day to the University’s library. Tucson is not as hot as Phoenix, but that day the temperature  was about 100 degrees, and, after walking several blocks, I had to stop for water at Wilko, one of the restaurants at University Boulevard (Park and University). The beautiful young lady at the bar pulled out an ice-cold bottle of water and an equally ice-cold glass, and I drank two glasses of that water. Ah! Nothing like the desert to help you appreciate nothing other than water!

A Picture does not Say a Thousand Words: Part 2 | Tucson, AZ | Occupy

In order to give you an accurate picture of a Palo Verde in bloom I had to enhance the photo with iPhoto. And still the photo doesn’t do the tree justice. A blooming Palo Verde is not just a beautiful tree; it sparkles; it beams. This is as close as I could get with my iPhoto. Oh well, you will have to visit the Sonoran Desert during spring sometime.

Blooming Palo Verdes

(Click to enlarge)

My pad in Tucson, in days long past. Remodeled!

The Occupy Tucson movement was recently evicted from De Anza Park, but they are still going strong. I am following them on Twitter. This is their blog:

Tomorrow I’ll visit the Tucson Weekly to see if they’d like to do a review for me. After all, the book has local interest.

Santa Monica CA | Palisade Park | A “Dream”

It is a few minutes past 6 PM and I just parked by Palisade Beach Park on Ocean Blvd. I am across the street from the Blue Plate — Oysterette (Thai Dishes), and a couple of blocks from The Georgian Hotel. It is Sunday evening. The sun is still shinning bright, warming the cool evening breezes. Balmy weather! After a recent dance workout I am thoroughly relaxed. I sit on my vehicle and just enjoy the scene. At the Blue Plate the valets are busy parking cars; the place is packed. The park is teeming with people. I am awake! My radio is playing but it doesn’t disrupt my meditation. I just listen while I watch everything . . . the joggers, the strollers, the cyclists, the couples (gay and straight) the homeless and mentally ill, the man balancing a water bottle on his head as he walks by with his backpack . . . The radio stops playing. I am here, with everything. And I see the collective dream; we are all dreaming together. We are being dreamed. It is all there, but it’s not.

Dusk sets in, and then the night lights appear. The magical evening is gone to never come back, and I remember a couple of lines from a poem by Emily Dickinson.

   “That it will never come again

is what makes life so sweet . . .”

Palisade Park: This Eucalyptus grows close to the ground.

My next stop is Tucson, Arizona. I am looking forward to see the blooming Palo Verdes.

The Road to SLO | The Shell Oil Co . . . Amazing!

On the road

I went to San Luis Obispo, CA to try to get a review for The Eye of the Dragon in The Tribune. April used to work there; she is the lady who wrote a review for my first book, A Vagabond in Mexico. She wasn’t there anymore though. And they told me that at the moment they only review books by local authors. I had figured that that was likely to happen, nothing stays the same. But I had to give it a try; it is not far from Santa Barbara, where I’m staying at the moment.

When I arrived, I stopped at the Shell gas station to use the restroom, the one at the corner of Santa Rosa and Monterrey. The attendant, a tall, dark-haired unpleasant youth said that I couldn’t use the restroom unless I purchased gas. Isn’t that amazing! Since I wasn’t ready to purchase gas at the moment, I walked to the building across the street where they let me use their restroom.

I used to do business with Shell regularly. Not that I am looking forward to do business with any of them; they are all part of the entity that controls our government. As soon as I can I am getting an electric car . . . or a bicycle. Let’s boycott all of them.

The Foothills of San Luis Obispo

Pismo Beach, CA

The Road to Ojai | Bart’s Bookstore | Guerrilla Marketing |

I went to Ojai, CA. The librarian told me that their budget has been reduced by 70% or so, they can’t purchase books; she said because of the economy. I told her that the economy was bad because of the “flag attack” wars, and I gave her an AE 9/11 Truth flyer. She was reluctant, but eventually accepted the flyer. There is an elephant in our living room as big as Building 7 was, but we don’t want to see it. 

The road to Ojai, CA

A Dam somewhere . . .

Bart’s bookstore is carrying The eye of the Dragon: Stalking Castaneda at the moment. Interesting bookstore: most of it is outdoors, under awnings and arbors.



Great Selection! Make sure you stop by if you visit Ojai.

My guerrilla marketing is working in Santa Barbara’s streets, flyers work.

A Picture does not tell a Thousand Words | The Fullerton Hostel

The tool shed

I am in Fullerton, CA at the moment. I visited the hostel where I used to work in the mid 90’s. The place was closed, the sign said, until June. It used to be open all year.

It was a gloomy, rainy day. I took a stroll to my favorite place but it wasn’t there. Another had taken its place, full of fallen branches and overrun by dry, tall mustard stalks leaning down to the ground, making it difficult to move around. The old eucalyptus and lesser friends were still there. I thought I saw the cat, but she must be dead now. So it must have been my imagination—the slinking black cat who stopped briefly to look at me and then vanished, perhaps stalking  a ghostly prey. Is she still there?

I saw everybody, although no one was there. They were just thoughts. But isn’t everything a thought, a dream? We are being dreamed. And we disappear. Who are we? Have you ever thought of that? Who are we really? 

The Entrance

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