THE VANISHING WAVES Part three, “Eye of the Storm Waves” : Johnny Storm, a.k.a. the Human Torch Any time you can fly where the mountains stand and still smell the ocean... It’s the same type of temperature here in So Cal that I choose to maintain. For me, being hot is a state of mind. Sky high sights roll to me over bits of the city poised in the mountain peaks that descend into the city, just as we do. Reed is a channel, I admit, I like to turn down when I can, so I can take in my own observations... In every direction I look, there’s a beautiful girl. Every one else is okay, too. If no one needs the Fantastic Four today, why not find out what’s hidden in Escondido? We’re there from San Diego in 3 minutes. Ben is making some joke about visitin’ the wild animal safari. I’ve flamed on as our craft decelerates in a freakishly efficient use of inertia. Typical inside California city limits, every space set out as space is alread...

4-8-09 cld Alicia Masters, sculptress: The ocean’s side is the finest place to envision one’s surrounding, when seen the way the blind person sees it. Regular, rhythmic, yet constantly in flux; the visitors of every species across its shifting surface... The smells so pungent and full of life, the awesome smallness of humanity before the face of its oceans can be felt beyond the hints to the naked eye: a smallness beside the passages of time, here to shape the land for a moment amidst its waves on one of the dozen San Diego beaches... Franklin: Uncle Johnny! Alicia: (in thought) We find the slight chill of the elements and a kiss of the love of the sun, while I hear the cooling man’s feet splashed with hissing kisses across the moist, clay-like slurries of sand. “So how you like California, nephew?” says Johnny Storm. “I love it!” replies little Franklin, “and I hope, hope, HOPE you still want to take me out to look for the sea life off the shore!” “Inna minute,” Johnny rep...