Been cranking on shit lately. Trying to get the new book together, the new work retouched, everything paginated. Oh, and make some money all the while. Figures then, that the surf would pick up, and rear her beautiful head in time for all of this. But you make room for these things. You get up before sunrise. You come in before Jasmine gets mad and scolds you for playing too long. And you always, ALWAYS make sure to wash the sand down the drain. Nobody can know where you've been, or what you've done. And you still get your shit done. You just sleep less.
A fair trade, I suppose.
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