San diego, day 3

Bay mornings continue with abandon. I woke up to the brilliant blue of
the water and T standing in front of wide open french windows. The
concept of waking up in such luxury is foreign to me and I often have to
blink out sleep to ensure that I am, in fact, not still dreaming. I like
my little balcony to the bay. I spend mornings watching people sail, jet
ski, and otherwise bounce along the surface, and I spend nights watching
the lights of the skyline and of the naval yard play will o wisp with
the black suface of the bay. The palm tree next to the balcony and I
have become fast friends. I am glad that it does not mock my skin
condition and in exchange, I don't notice that its leaves are in
disarray.

As predicted, the sun had laid the smacketh down on me. In spite of my
precautions and several re-application of precautions, I am conpletely
burn. The only spot on my both that didn't burn was that which was under
shorts. I have never before been burned so extensively and my skin
simmers in silent rage. I dread slightly the sun, but know that the
beach is far more precious. I am therefore determined to keep a shirt on
today and fry something other than my aching torso. If I don't become
tan, the sun, my skin, and I, will all have issues.

Last night, we went to the hard rock cafe. As expected, the food was
odiously slow. The experience sucked the life out of our party and our
bar scene was torturously banal. The highlight of the evening was an
irishman who was fluent in irish sign. I spent much time looking at him
crosseyed while T managed to make communication magic. Were it not for
T, I probably would have left the guy out of sheer fustration, or at
least would have attempted to drink him under the table just to say I
did that with an irishman.

T is out of the shower. My turn

The fireworks tonight will explode rampant across the bay. T and I have
elected to stay on our balcony and watch the colours' brilliant descent
from there. I very much look forward to this positive, yet aggressive
display of pride.
~ I write with your life and my own ~

San diego, day 2

The midmorning view from my room. They're going to have to kick me out
of this place.

~ I write with your life and my own ~

San diego, day 1

I write this from my hotel porch, which overlooks the bay and
concenquentially, the pacific ocean. To my left, the skyline of dan
diego glows out of the mist. its corner stretches into a bridge of
lights that connect the skyline to the other shores of the bay. Ahead is
the black of the ocean; only broken by the yellow and red lights of the
airport, or an adjucant building. On my right, a palm waves at me. We
are level to each other. On whims, I lean over the balcony to shake
hands. The date finds me slightly amusing.

T. is inside, showering. She has been beyond adjectives. We get along
quite splendidly and seem to manage each other, in spite of a few
conflicting ideologies. I enjoy my time with her immensely and do wish
to spend much more with her in the future. In the mean time, I am
satisfied with this weekend. It has been storybook.

Today started early. We went to sea world and made friends with shamu.
The dolphins slashed us and the food was palatable. The cirque de la mer
was a splendid, shining moment of whimsy and artistic perfection. I came
away from that with a hungry desire to acquire a jet ski of sorts. The
rollercoasters were alright. The best part of the day was spending time
with T and her best friend, S.

We had mexican after. The food, while bland, was worth the price of
admission. The shining centerpiece of gringo, the restaurant, was the
magnificent beast of a magarita served. Twelve dollars netted me a
chalice of tequila that put me floating for several hours afterward. The
next I attend, I want to try the different kinds of tequila offered.

Evening found T, S, and I in a jaccuzzi, talking about the important
things. Everyone needs to experience a midnight hot tub relevation,
among the glorious mists of heated thoughts.

T is out. I'm in. Cheers

~ I write with your life and my own ~