So excited for today to be a day. Getting off work early, going to San Diego, surfin’ the cliffs, hangin’ with the homies, having a shenanigans of a time. Stuart Ballew is hosting his gallery opening and I am so so excited for his amazzzingness. I am singing songs I make up to myself because that is what I do when I am really happy. Yay for today.
Moving back into a familiar place and feeling strange. I have nearly nothing in my little black book and when there is something, I forget to go. It is as if I am on vacation, but Summer is seeping into fall and things are changing; I can smell it in the wind. Soon, I will have better things to do than burning on the sand or hunting for treasure in the local thrift stores and living in a garage might start to feel less like camp someday.
Sliding back into an old place is a strange feeling. Not bad, but strange like that old pair of pants you found in the back of the closet that you forgot about. Slide them on and they fit just like you remember but they still feel different somehow. It’s been lovely showing my San Diego friends around my city. From P.V. to the Hollywood hills, we had a grand shenaniganly time. But as I stomp these grounds again, I feel like am a familiar foreigner. I feel like a local-tourist.
It is wonderful to be home. Staycation some people call it. A road trip home, showing my San Diego friends the great South Bay tour, visiting dear old friends and hanging with my family (like my lovely sister pictured here). I can feel myself spreading out: I am not longer just from L.A. I am also not just from San Diego. Neither do I think my roots will stop there. I can feel life shifting, growing and extending. My flowers here are drying out, creating new seeds, almost ready to fly to someplace new. For now it is good to be home, in anticipation of the wind coming to carry me away.