ALOHA! On the most communist day of the year :-)
It's a beautiful day in the southland under mostly sunny skies, probably headed for a high in the mid to high seventies, scant chance of precipitation, and a sojourn to the Mary Ellen house in fabulous North Hollywood, (sounds way better than Van Nuys) to begin the process of making habitable the neglected little cottage.
Sometimes I can see the perfection and sometimes I do not. It's great to have Bob Murphy back in America. I have missed his consistent message of love and perfection. He helps me to see things I already know. There is nothing new under the sun. Yet, it sure seems like everything is new to me today. I am filled with white flour and sugar and ready to seize the carp, to begin the toil of love, of which Mary Ellen is most in need of receiving. Isn't she cute?
So good bye Orange County, hello San Fernando Valley. Sure, it's violent and dirty, crowded and hostile, but I can get a taco anytime of the day or night, and it just doesn't get better than that. Thank you Teri for helping me to make this transition into what promises to be a most interesting chapter of my life. You are an excellent example of service and self sacrifice. Peace :-)
Still have no idea if I'm doing this right. Wonder what happened to the comment I did yesterday...out there in the ether somewhere. Nice name for the house. I'm sure you'll love it when you've added your special touches. I kinda miss the rumbles of May Day Russian military might. Birthday night at the harbor this eve. Looks like another cloudy day here. Take care...
ReplyDeleteCoincident with the arrival of the wayfaring stranger to the coast of NA (that is the shores of a continent, not the fringe of an ex-narco squad) we have been noticing a very brisk - 40km/hora- wind across the southern Mexican peninsula. In like a lion, then? Well, no worries, inhabitants of the Tierra Sur, either you will domesticate him or he will go.
ReplyDeleteThe little cottage reminds of where I spent my late teens- out the back door was a refrigerator box for the dead soldiers and inside was the most awesome collection of vinyl posing as a baseboard; hundreds of bands standing at attention in their covers, awaiting the scrape of the needle across their poetic grooves. It looks like a place to groove.
The taco fetish is a twisted bond to share. 'Craving the cradle' it's called in the upper-tier communities of retired psycho-analyzed that populate the hills around this temporarily impoverished pueblo. The affected nightly descend to slurp salsa through arrechera strips buried in repollo in a baby-bed of tortilla de maiz. They seem somehow as satisfied as if they were at mother's breast. I think it's just cheap.
You say nothing of how you intend to sustain yourself. One hopes that you have convinced some unsuspecting employer or collaborator that you have some talent or skill worth something. Or you have found a sympathetic taquero. Anyway, if you need a hand just let me know and I'll send you one of my hands. I have 20 Pesos today; if I break it that's enough to toss in the basket for a month.
Good luck unlearning Hawaiian- language or attitude. You have probably been permanently afflicted with what we call the "manana Maybe" syndrome. I wonder if the "Not While the Surf's Up Construction Company" is stil in business. If you can find them maybe you can seek some council on how they have been able to do it for so long.
hasta,
PI
Seriously Mark, WTF is up with you??!! Hope all is well with you on your new journey. I kinda suspected something was up when I saw you in on da' big island - keep in touch - email me camille922@gmail.com and let's catch up. XXOO Camille
ReplyDeleteAloha Bro!
ReplyDeleteMissing the "Fog" yet? It sure is quiet without the morning singing,,I do miss that,, so do the mongoose. Have fun with the paint!
"Vog" I meant
ReplyDelete