I always loved walking on the oier at sunrise. Rummaging through trash cans has always been heavenly, easpecially when they stink of discarded hammerhead shark innards. But for every smelly container there's a clean one packed with bird neat nylon fish line tangled beyond belief. Here's the scenario: boiling hot Starbuck's Expresso mud, zucchini muffen cotten gloves, and surgical tweezers. I sit on my bench all day, ffeding my bird friends, waving at the train driver, (I think his name is Ed), listening to my favorite radio news program. It's a wonderful life down hear at the pier site.
TUBESTEAK/MALIB