Tics are where lines intersect and the current time shows up. Between the tics are tocs. Tocs are messier – hoarders among other things – and represent elapsed time. In the tics, opinions and observations are expressed as read/write functions like, “Keep Tina, dump Ike.” In the tocs, operations happen, like “Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.”

Danville, CA, 8:00 AM some day in January, 2019. We climbed a few hundred feet above the fog, Lucy the intrepid mutt and I, and shot this with an iPhone 6.

I opened the door – “Up Lucy” – and she thought she’d drive. “Back, Lucy, get in the back.” Outta the house, into the van, on the road, and it was just getting light. Away from manicured softscapes, diagonally-parked cars and the goddam vigilant home owners’ association, we had a clear lane leading to the outback with on-coming traffic slowly grinding toward the city. We were a couple miles up the road and looking for the trailhead. “This has gotta be it, girl. Probably not legal to park here, right? Probably no dogs allowed, eh Lucy? C’mon.”


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