I never apologize. I’m sorry, that’s just who I am.

A satisfying evening of darts yesterday. Win or lose I want to throw well, and last night I was at least decent. Far better than the last time I played. I drew a solid female partner and so did my friendly rival, Steve the Englishman who doesn’t drink. And as seems to frequently be the case, we went head-to-head in the winner’s bracket. The match went all three legs and I’ll confess to being somewhat surprised when we prevailed. Unsurprisingly, Steve and Jo came back up through the loser’s bracket to meet us again in the finals. And once again, Liza and I managed to eke out the win after three hard-fought legs. Heh, it’s fun to win a well-played tourney.

In other news, Scott (Pubic Head) asked me if I’d do Monday’s trail with him (he’d missed the Hash). Well, I was planning on doing the Wednesday Walkers group hike anyway and I figured the devil I knew could be no worse than what those guys may have in mind. So, there I was again up on the big mountain. We did bypass one of the downs and ups, but still had 5K+ by the time we were back on the pavement. Neither of us wanted to complete the remainder of Leech’s original trail that I had failed to do on Monday.

I did however finally finish the final portion of the trail for my morning walk today. It was a familiar stretch that joins up with My Bitch eventually.

My offerings for today’s “interesting” photo feature:

I know I promised to bring you something other than flowers, but these were irresistible:

So, I listen to music while I walk. I’ve created some “mixtapes” on the Spotify app, but sometimes I’ll just play a set of “created for you” selections Spotify thinks I’ll like. Now, at my age, I’ve heard just about everything (except the new stuff those punk-ass young folks listen to). And most of the songs Spotify chooses for me are familiar. But then I heard one that was completely new to me and I actually liked it! Great musical beat, but the lyrics really grabbed me for some reason. The song is San Francisco B.C. by a group called Silver Jews. Never heard of them either. Anyway, give it a listen if the mood strikes you.

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.
I lived with my true love and she lived with me
“Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie”
Was the very first thing she imparted to me
We had sarcastic hair, we used lewd pseudonyms
We got a lot of stares on the street back then

Since her dad, a local barber, had been beaten to death
She had become a vocal martyr in the vegan press
The cops had failed, they couldn’t catch a bus
They were looking for a male with a bad hair cut
Enter tumbleweed, exit love and our affaire d’amour
Was set on self-destruct

She said “you don’t make enough to provide for me”
I said “what about the stuff that we quote believe?”
She said “I left that on the sands of history
I’ve found a new man to take care of me
He dresses for success and emergency
And he moves a lot of concrete on the QVC”

Middle-aged and deadly, like a cobra in the shade
Sat in the midst of the smoke that he made
His name was Mr. Games and he owned the place
It was a lonely bar and grill in the Lower Haight
He had a jeweler’s hands and a blurry face
He knew I needed a chance so he gave me a break

“If I hire you now, can you start today?
I got a high-rise job down by the bay
Just a couple of rocks and some firearms
There’s not many locks and just one alarm
My step-son Gene will pick you up and drive
Try to be his friend, he’s got a friendly side”

Doll-house lightning and the next thing I knew
We were back at our point of rendezvous
I was in the possession of burglary tools
Children’s fur coats and diamonds and jewels
Gene’s talking about insignificant shit
Just like crooks in the movies when they do that bit

He said the power of metal will never be harnessed
I thought the wages of metal should be heavily garnished
We were waiting for his dad to meet us there
Gene took off his hat and I noticed his hair
It was neatly trimmed but a patch was bare
I knew it wasn’t the wave, it was human error

Before I knew what I said, I said “killer cut”
I watched him silently putting out a cigarette butt
Then he came at me with some fist cuisine
I had to duck aside and that was bad for Gene
‘Cause when he went by me he tripped and fell
Through the glass coffee table at the Wong hotel

Right there and then Mr. Games walked in
With my ex-true love on his gamy limb
So her dad’s killer’s dad was her new beau
And Games had a wife, whatta you know?
She got real real quiet till we chucked the kid
Then she went her way and I went his

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.