Hobo Jungle
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San Diegan
Burp. Man this home brew is yeasty. Where did we ever get the idea we could make beer from lawn clippings?
I don't really remember the origin of the HST and HA thing. I think he wrote a book about it and there's a few club members left that feel like they had an undercover anthropologist among them. There's an HA presence here in SD, but no real trouble. Some day I'll have to tell the story of the Leucadian.
Now, let me tell you about one of my infamous anxiety dreams.
We have a bar in Mission Beach that attracts a lot of bikers. It's across the street from the roller coaster. I've been in there and it's cool. Most folks park their motorcycle out in front, at an angle to the curb. So in the dream, I'm in there having a few drinks and enjoying the conversation. I decide to leave and head out the front. As I do, I collide with the first bike and almost knock it over. I just barely have the bike at its balance point when the damn roller coaster bottoms after it's steepest descent. The vibration tips the scale against me and the bike goes over, hitting the next bike. At that point, an impossible array of 100s of bikes stretching from Mission Blvd to the boardwalk go over like dominoes. I wake up screaming.
Usually, if I go back to sleep and continue dreaming, I head down to the Lahina or Dick's Last Resort and piss off the San Diego State football team.
Do I want to be in the hospital, or what?
San
I don't really remember the origin of the HST and HA thing. I think he wrote a book about it and there's a few club members left that feel like they had an undercover anthropologist among them. There's an HA presence here in SD, but no real trouble. Some day I'll have to tell the story of the Leucadian.
Now, let me tell you about one of my infamous anxiety dreams.
We have a bar in Mission Beach that attracts a lot of bikers. It's across the street from the roller coaster. I've been in there and it's cool. Most folks park their motorcycle out in front, at an angle to the curb. So in the dream, I'm in there having a few drinks and enjoying the conversation. I decide to leave and head out the front. As I do, I collide with the first bike and almost knock it over. I just barely have the bike at its balance point when the damn roller coaster bottoms after it's steepest descent. The vibration tips the scale against me and the bike goes over, hitting the next bike. At that point, an impossible array of 100s of bikes stretching from Mission Blvd to the boardwalk go over like dominoes. I wake up screaming.
Usually, if I go back to sleep and continue dreaming, I head down to the Lahina or Dick's Last Resort and piss off the San Diego State football team.
Do I want to be in the hospital, or what?
San
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San Diegan
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