I have noticed, that lately, I'm finding myself going to bed when the sun is coming up. And I have also discovered that I am super awake and my voice gets loud between 4-5am. As if this is "my hour" or something. So if I could just always stay up till this time of morning, then I'd be set. Well, set for destruction is more like it. I actually think it's just the whole, "kid is about to crash" moment, where they get super rambunctious right before they run out of steam and pass out cold. Like the body is desperately grasping for any remaining energies and sucks the spirit dry before it realizes there is nothing feeding the source and so it collapses. (sputter-sputter-dead).
Now, these events are tolerable if they aren't followed by 1 hour of sleep, and a 9 hour work day. After all I'm not in the Marine Corps anymore, and I don't have the same psychotic drive that once inspired me to masochistically volunteer for 24/7 discipline (#blood/sweat/tears). Nowadays I just do these things to myself, minus the input of shaven heads and machine guns.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Cruising Down The Boulevard. A tale of this years first desert campout.
And so it was written...that it was about ripe time I got my ass on a road trip. This time I even had to request time off from work, haha, yep, I have a job now. Well, on Friday I was hungover as hell from partying the night before with a friend for her birthday, and all 3 hours of sleep after the sun came up just had me in a haze, so I postponed any daytime activities such as packing or riding in exchange for a very comatose sleep.
I woke up around 6:30, dug my poncho out of a sac where I'd stuffed it last fall, rolled my blanket up inside my poncho, bungee-corded it to my handlebars, replaced the harnessing pin on my kickstand, pulled my boots on, and was out of the house by 8pm.
It was such a nice warm evening, and the ride to San Diego was amazing. I could smell beach bonfires from about Dana Point on down the coast. A nice long 2 hour ride, some harrowing lane splitting stunts thrown in, and one fuel stop, and I arrived at Adria and Randy's for some cartoons and burgers. What a reception. It's always rad to see these folks. They live in the neatest little house, complete with Randy's ever so awesome homemade tiki's.
Friday we took our time getting around and having coffee, making last minute tie-downs. Randy and I hit the road around 11, making a stop at the military surplus store, and then off to the meeting spot at a brewery in Escondido. We wound our way down pathways and diners, to a cozy little lounge area with wood benches, a huge stone slab table, and flowering vines enveloping the overhead trellis.
At 1pm we all anxiously ran out to our bikes, saddled up, and headed out the 2 laned roads for Julian, CA. There we met up with another group or riders, and our formation doubled in size.
We took off heading south-ish and then jumped off on a left shoot to wind over the river and through the woods to grandmas house (aka. Blue Jay Lodge). This was hands down the most awesome place I've been...maybe ever...but I can't commit that honor quite yet, just cause my memory is a little foggy of a few adventures, and I may have been somewhere cooler before, but this place is sure in the top somewhere. We sat round on, get this...tractor seats. Yep! Tractor seats for bar stools! So rad! Hydration was in order. Most of us walked around and admired the decor, wealthily stocked with taxidermy such as bears of all ages, rabbits, buffalo, deer, and Bullwinkle.
We finally left the pavement for the glory that be an old dirt road carved through the desert. We scurried as fast as our bald little tires would let us on that sifty little road. We even had one guy take one for the team. Nothing like breaking in a new bike, eh? A little looky-loo once over, and some dusting off, and he was back on the bike, and we were motoring on into the high desert like a bunch o' rally racers. The view up top those ridges were epic.
We rode over, scratch that, we rode through a river, and into a thicket of tall dry oaks where we called home for the night. First thing I found was the 6 pack of beer that I donated to the party. Second thing I found was the bonfire. And the 3rd thing I drunkenly found by the time they were done was the BBQ hotdogs. Someone brought a battery powered amplifier and an electric guitar, and they were keeping the troops entertained for sure. Someone even came up with a camp song...I was trying so hard to remember the lyrics, but at least the tune was for certain still in my head when I was leaving the next morning. I managed to make a stealth exit to make something of my measly accommodations, of a small fleece blanket, a donated mexican blanket, and my poncho. It was pretty darn breezy up there in those hills, and the temperature was about 42 and dropping. But that fire sure kept us warm, otherwise you just had to keep drinking.
I woke up around 6:30, dug my poncho out of a sac where I'd stuffed it last fall, rolled my blanket up inside my poncho, bungee-corded it to my handlebars, replaced the harnessing pin on my kickstand, pulled my boots on, and was out of the house by 8pm.
Friday we took our time getting around and having coffee, making last minute tie-downs. Randy and I hit the road around 11, making a stop at the military surplus store, and then off to the meeting spot at a brewery in Escondido. We wound our way down pathways and diners, to a cozy little lounge area with wood benches, a huge stone slab table, and flowering vines enveloping the overhead trellis.
At 1pm we all anxiously ran out to our bikes, saddled up, and headed out the 2 laned roads for Julian, CA. There we met up with another group or riders, and our formation doubled in size.
We took off heading south-ish and then jumped off on a left shoot to wind over the river and through the woods to grandmas house (aka. Blue Jay Lodge). This was hands down the most awesome place I've been...maybe ever...but I can't commit that honor quite yet, just cause my memory is a little foggy of a few adventures, and I may have been somewhere cooler before, but this place is sure in the top somewhere. We sat round on, get this...tractor seats. Yep! Tractor seats for bar stools! So rad! Hydration was in order. Most of us walked around and admired the decor, wealthily stocked with taxidermy such as bears of all ages, rabbits, buffalo, deer, and Bullwinkle.
It was a bit cooler up on that pass, but it was totally worth the sweet little ride through the forest, and the visit to that cozy little oasis.
A couple miles down the road and we dropped off onto hwy 8 and headed east towards our last meeting spot at a casino, for camp beer and fuel, where I managed to find a .50 cent mustache, and a .25 cent golden ring. Golden finds indeed. After we were all together and loaded up, the cooler trucks and supplies carriers, we headed down the road a couple o' miles to a po-dunk little town. I happened to notice they had a thrift store...just peeked my interest, that's all. N.E.Way...we made a left past the HP giving a poor little old lady a ticket, and rode mobishly under an 8 overpass. Went past a few chopped power structures, somewhat resembling an American version of the Eiffel Tower (probably those darn UFO's been slicing em down, they fly so fast through those deserts, ya know?)
We finally left the pavement for the glory that be an old dirt road carved through the desert. We scurried as fast as our bald little tires would let us on that sifty little road. We even had one guy take one for the team. Nothing like breaking in a new bike, eh? A little looky-loo once over, and some dusting off, and he was back on the bike, and we were motoring on into the high desert like a bunch o' rally racers. The view up top those ridges were epic.
We rode over, scratch that, we rode through a river, and into a thicket of tall dry oaks where we called home for the night. First thing I found was the 6 pack of beer that I donated to the party. Second thing I found was the bonfire. And the 3rd thing I drunkenly found by the time they were done was the BBQ hotdogs. Someone brought a battery powered amplifier and an electric guitar, and they were keeping the troops entertained for sure. Someone even came up with a camp song...I was trying so hard to remember the lyrics, but at least the tune was for certain still in my head when I was leaving the next morning. I managed to make a stealth exit to make something of my measly accommodations, of a small fleece blanket, a donated mexican blanket, and my poncho. It was pretty darn breezy up there in those hills, and the temperature was about 42 and dropping. But that fire sure kept us warm, otherwise you just had to keep drinking. |
| where the magic happened |
I woke up and was out of camp by 8am, in order to make it to work by 1pm in Glendale. Up on those ridges the sun was beaming down, and it was just me, the open dirt road, and the birds chirping all along...until I realized that chirping was coming from my front end somewhere. I could see that my direction of westerly travel would be leading me into some loomily evil thunderheads and wind chill was getting much cooler than it was on those sun crisped ridges. Basically, I was losing feeling in my fingers and toes...always fun. So the morning trip was a little rough, and the weather was right up there with a few fall trips I'd taken. Being that I had to thaw out I stopped at the casino for coffee, gas, and spent some time sitting on the bathroom counter rotating frozen limbs under the hand dryer. But time was a wasting, and I just kept quantifying mileage with time frame, and well, the physics tells me that the faster you ride, the sooner you arrive.
I stopped for breakfast, and this is what my hot sauce told me...
Friday, March 25, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
It's nights like these.
Here I am listening to love struck/sick ballads. Tonight it's Ray LaMontagne. It's raining torrentially, the streets are rivers, and I'm missing something about every one of my exes. Lengths of time and place where I'm reminded of how awesome love at some point or another held its presence steadily in my life. A sporadic nature is not an easy one with which to establish much faith between a tumbleweed and a stranger, but a good barrier between the wind and the free range where this tumbleweed would otherwise roam seems about now a desirable thing. The rain sits me down, and these relationships make me feel. So now I'm sitting and feeling the lyrics and tunes playing to me from these speakers, and I'm puzzled about time and space that I now occupy and why it is absent of the steadiness for which I long.
At least I have central heating.
At least I have central heating.
Monday, March 14, 2011
L.A. times.
House calls.
house parties.
hidden art...golden finds.
music.
motorcycle parking.
a good excuse to take more baths.
friends.
when improvisation becomes standard...my favorite belt.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The week in review
goin for a little ride.
you wouldn't know what to do with this.
good for something.
yes.
smells nice...why not.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Exploring my world.
French classical piano music plays from the old phonograph record player in the corner of the studio. The dancers, large and small, twirl in their tutus and flip their legs and hands to the commands of their much older, heavily accent-clad French teacher. I'm sipping my unsweetened ice-brewed coffee on the oxblood stained benches in the chambers of the cooled coffee shop looking through the door that opens into the dance studio. Brief entertainment. I retreat to the familiarity of my PDA to record this experience.
See, I was driving along Pico boulevard. It was a hot day. I had a sweltering headache from the jug of sangria I had drunken the night before, thus I was thirsty and needed energy. And so it was that I stopped at the first sign of quaint atmosphere and promising refreshment. This is a new neighborhood to me, but it has so much potential. And guess what, I found it. Among the rows of "for lease" signs dangling in empty store fronts, and automotive repair shops, there it was. I walked in, and a lovely experience it has been. See what magical things you can find today.
Yesterday, I also happened to find myself in a new neighborhood, surrounded by Cajun and Jamaican eateries, a hip hop recording studio, and plethora of barbershops. With a subtly growing hunger, I decided to check out the Jamaican restaurant. After awhile of asking the registrar about what the various things on the menu were, and generating small talk about the neighborhood, I decided to try a fried spinach patty. I ate it there and took in the atmosphere. The registrar was the kinda guy that didn't smile or talk much, but his eyes and other nonverbal cues were so efficiently utilized, that our communication was complete as minimal as it seemed. I must say I admired his ability to do so. On my way out, I said "I'm coming back to try the beef patties" to which he looked up from a conversation he was holding with someone else, he smiled (finally) and said "ok! See you soon!" and I left feeling accomplished.
See, I was driving along Pico boulevard. It was a hot day. I had a sweltering headache from the jug of sangria I had drunken the night before, thus I was thirsty and needed energy. And so it was that I stopped at the first sign of quaint atmosphere and promising refreshment. This is a new neighborhood to me, but it has so much potential. And guess what, I found it. Among the rows of "for lease" signs dangling in empty store fronts, and automotive repair shops, there it was. I walked in, and a lovely experience it has been. See what magical things you can find today.
Yesterday, I also happened to find myself in a new neighborhood, surrounded by Cajun and Jamaican eateries, a hip hop recording studio, and plethora of barbershops. With a subtly growing hunger, I decided to check out the Jamaican restaurant. After awhile of asking the registrar about what the various things on the menu were, and generating small talk about the neighborhood, I decided to try a fried spinach patty. I ate it there and took in the atmosphere. The registrar was the kinda guy that didn't smile or talk much, but his eyes and other nonverbal cues were so efficiently utilized, that our communication was complete as minimal as it seemed. I must say I admired his ability to do so. On my way out, I said "I'm coming back to try the beef patties" to which he looked up from a conversation he was holding with someone else, he smiled (finally) and said "ok! See you soon!" and I left feeling accomplished.
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