Leaving the Village

I'm at the Starbucks in the Del Monte Center, Monterey, saying good-bye. I've spent a lot of time here over the last nine months. It's crowded as ever, being a Saturday. The weather is prime, just right, and people are enjoying sunning themselves as they walk their dogs and children along the outdoor retail shops. Seagulls land here and there, reminding me I'm near the ocean.

I'll miss the Monterey Peninsula's beauty and wonderful weather. But it's time for me to move on. The road is calling me back like an old friend. I'll travel to Las Vegas next week.

I travel light, so packing is really no big deal. I usually purchase what I need when staying in a place for more than a week or two. The nine months I've spent here is the longest period of time I've stayed in any one place. I've got art supplies and a few odds and ends I'll keep, but most of the junk I've collected threw the winter I'm donating to Goodwill.

The photo at left was taken just before I began packing. My small art studio served me just fine, though there were some drawbacks. Occasionally a rock band renting space down the hall would rehearse and drive me nuts. And once a week the cook in the market located downstairs would smoke meats out in the alley outside my window, blowing smoke into my office. But for the most part it was a pleasant nine months of concentrating on my art and my writing.

Fear and Loathing on the Way to Las Vegas

I'm about ready to leave the Monterey Peninsula. After 275 days enjoying paradise, it's time to get back to the real world. I'll be heading east toward Las Vegas, and should be there next week if all goes according to plan.

I've enjoyed my time here. But California just has too many problems. The state is all but broke, and they figure to get back in the black by adding more taxes on top of the mountain of taxes they've already heaped on the consumer. This is probably (since I'm not going to waste the time to try to prove it) the most taxed citizenry in the country. A recent "temporary" sales tax increase is just another example of a state government gone wild.

And it's no comfort that many of President Obama's advisers are from California. If you want to yourself in a few years, visit someone living in California. Overtaxed, underpaid, stressed and not able to afford the highest cost of living in the country. Unless, of course, your Paris Hilton.

I really want to spend some time in Las Vegas. After reading a lot of Hunter Thompson lately, I want to experience "Sin City" as an observer, an outsider looking in on the mayhem and weirdness of the city that never sleeps, and write about what I see. Plus I want to play some poker.

So, I'm packing up my small art studio, Sola Sendero, and taking my palette to Nevada.

The Wild Goose is crowded this morning. I can barely move my hands to work the keyboard on my laptop, kids running amuck like rats in a maze. One thing I love in life is a morning cup of coffee and a muffin, with some peace and quiet if I can find it. Not today. At times like this I'll stick the iPod in my ear, which helps.

I've arisen from three days of hell fighting one of the worst colds in recent memory. Luckily I had no nausea, just severe sinus pressure, runny nose, fever, and the usual body aches. No sleep and around-the-clock doses of NyQuil have made me a little cranky. I suppose that's one reason all these people at the Wild Goose are driving me nuts.

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Top 10 Goalies Gone Wild.

Thanks to Wil Wheaton (via puckdaddy) for the clip below. It seemed appropriate for describing the the way I've been feeling the last couple of days. I feel like I've been beaten by a hockey stick, thrown against the boards, and hit in the face by a puck or two.