to LA and Back.
we moved to LA. we came back.
we went back. to see the parade.
we saw the parade. i've no photos of the parade, here.
long beach in the smog, somehow it's beautiful
the bubbleman does his work...
our first and last bike ride along the shores of southern california brought many images framed by the setting sun and the santa monica mountains. persons young and old, intricate and beautiful, moved past us. a family, stood in a circle reading from a book, fathers, mothers, children united in prayer. their silouettes art, over the dune of orange sand. a scene only to be appreciated by the very free, as i do feel in my last cherished moments in this golden state. this city may very well be a haven of industry - violence - and hedonism, but never outdone nor shadowed, by the canyons and mountains which surround it. not by the fire-red poppies lining the freeways, the constant triple-waves caressing its shoreline for miles upon miles upon miles.
no, the real riches are not to be found within this city, but outside of it.the moment of leaving provides such a different perspecitve.
is it real, i don't know, nor do i care. the sadness i can afford to feel is meshed inextricably with the power and confidence and hope that moving forward brings. they are a very odd marriage of feelings, and proof of many things i had thought i knew, earlier. all of a sudden, it's not a place to leave. in a flash of desparation, it becons me.
i am thinking, that perhaps in a very infintetissmal sense, it needs me.
we went to california and we bought a mug
what i mean is everyone's got mugs. from starbucks to disney land
everything can fit into a mug of one shape or another.
let's face it, we're not kids anymore.
and the original land of the beatniks is nowhere to be one, anymore.
neither is the country too, because the days of 'hangin' out are gone,
people talk about weird stuff and they think what they talked about twenty years ago was weird.
it's all weird, yeah.
but i miss the days when girls had pony tails and mugs had pretty little floral designs
because they came in soap boxes or from the garage station.
none matters anymore and flying around the world is a piece of cake.
even if you're twenty everyone pretends like nothing happened.
in effect, nothing did.
but if you want it to it can and if you will it to it can.
and the sun and the sun and the sun
laguna, the most beautiful place what is this santa monica
where seashells sparkle and dreams are made of
where only the lonely really know
and the ashphalt, sweating with exhaust
survives the illusions;
what is this ship
which we humans built of chains and toil
breathed life for but a moment
in time;
we plow ahead
as life only knows how to do
as creatures of survival
sweat
and eternal hope
are all that drive us now.
are all we have ever known,
is not what it is
when you know it
and only our dreams are real
o n l y our d r e a m s
