Coastal screed

The vision of an 'urban corridor stretching from Los Angeles to San Diego' will eventually destroy the coastal zone in Southern California and pollute the ocean so badly; nobody will be able to swim there anymore. Most of this coastline resides in Orange County ..and from what I've seen .. Orange County leaders are not good stewards of the land. When shortsighted urban planners ran out of room ..they wanted to extend a six-lane freeway over one of the few remaining coastal habitats in California ..the San Mateo creek near San Clemente. OC leaders immediately got in a fight with the coastal community; a vicious breed of environmentalists and surfers. It was a battle OC couldn't win. After fighting for 20 years ..20 fucking years .. they lost Thursday when the US Department of Commerce agreed with the coastal community and refused to approve it. First, I am amazed that the Federal government, under the Bush Administration, would go along with anything in the interest of California ..especially anything having to do with the environment. I applaud them. Second, I'm frightened by the bullheaded, right-wing conservative leaders in Orange County who fought so hard for the right to foul their environment. I was particularly concerned when I heard Tustin councilman Jerry Amante say that he doesn't feel it's in his interest to protect the coastline. The San Mateo creek is a natural watershed that, like other wetlands, cleanses runoff before entering the ocean. It flows into the ocean just above San Onofre ..one of the few places left where you can still camp on the beach. It flows directly into a legendary surf spot called Trestles ..a break that is actually formed from sediments deposited by the creek. Now, I'm not talking about protecting the birds or other wildlife ..I'm talking about protecting the people who live there ..but I guess that's not in the interest of Orange County.

North wind

An arctic wind blows through my door .. leaves and other debris scatter across the floor. Big wave season has begun. Although I don’t actually surf them ..they’re definitely major league ..I feel the anticipation. I sit on the beach and watch 25-foot swells pound the shore ..starting from Aleutian storms ..they move swiftly down the coast ..falling like dominoes on beaches from Mavericks to Todos Santos. I feel the energy crackling on my skin ..and the rhythm beating in my veins. I must have been a sea creature in a past life. I have a friend who's a big wave surfer. He tells me that he hears his rational brain screaming: “No Fucking Way” ..while feeling a rush, coming from some other part of his brain ..reminding him what an awesome experience it is to blow those apprehensions away. I think he’s a junkie ..caught in a cycle where icy adrenaline turns into fluid exhilaration.

Net interest

I admit I don’t follow pop culture ..I have no idea who P Diddy is. But I am fascinated by things that happen over the Internet .. and that’s usually how I find out what’s happening in pop culture. The Internet has the power to survive a devastating attack ..and keep sending messages; no celebrity can compete with that. Samantha Ronson tried to stop a story from appearing on the net ..only to see it amped, replicated ..and get more distorted with each re-telling. A car accident, that happened over a year ago, involving Lindsay Lohan ..turned into a tale of betrayal and intrigue with bloggers accusing Ronson of making money by setting up Lohan for the paparazzi. Ronson fought back by hiring a high-power attorney from the East Coast, who apparently had no idea what kind of power he was dealing with on the West Coast. They filed a defamation suit. The result wasn’t exactly what they expected ..a small-time blog got a big-time audience ..spawning even more salacious stories about Lohan and Ronson. Now she’s suing him for incompetence ..and he is counter-suing for unpaid fees ..saying he cannot work with “celebrity trash.” Next time I think he should try finding out what he’s up against .. because there’s no way to retract statements once they’re on the net ..information persists. However, I don’t think he should underestimate himself ..his lame attempts at litigation made him quite a successful provider of “celebrity trash.”

nowhere zone

A bell rings ~ I remind myself to sit straight ..take some deep breaths ..and be mindful. But my mind wanders ..flashing on images of people I’d like to see ..and asking them what they think about my latest harebrain idea. I gently bring myself back to the present ..and pay my respects to the pull of the ego. Now I hear children playing .. I feel a smile rise ..and remember something somebody once told me ..it’s better to live by a noisy schoolyard than a cemetery. Now I hear the swoosh of cars on Anapamu Street ..and I pay my respects to the sounds that pass by my little span of attention. I’m returning to the present moment without a clue where I was the moment before ~ now I’m answering a question that someone asked me yesterday ~ and I’m asking myself what that’s all about ~ now I hear myself shushing me ~ now I’m telling myself to quit shushing me.

Coastal zone

We used to call them swamps. Oil companies dumped sludge into them. Real estate developers excavated them ..and built pricey coastal communities like Marina Del Rey. Just north of there, surfers in Santa Monica began getting sick ..with symptoms ranging from skin rashes to heart attacks. I used to get ear infections. Investigators discovered high levels of toxins in the water ..both natural and man-made ..and began closing beaches for like months at a time. We don’t call them swamps any longer. They’re ‘estuaries’ ..and they serve a purpose .. filtering runoff before it goes into the ocean ..removing contaminants .. keeping the shoreline hospitable ..and the ocean sustainable (ask a fisherman). The Bolsa Chica wetlands is the only one remaining in Southern California that hasn’t been developed to the point where it’s lost all of that. A 40-year old feud between developers and environmentalists has kept it that way. Fanatical environmentalists. I’ll bet you there’s not one person surfing the river jetty who hasn’t gotten sick.

Wave action

The atmosphere looks blurry .. and the sky is a pale shade of blue. But the water has shape .. and slams me back to shore. The sky is fuchsia ..stars are shining ..and colorful dancers twirl by ..while others just float. I shake my head and they turn into a flock of birds. I lie there and let the white water wash over me ..remembering something that I heard one time ..telling me not to mistake the waves for water ..waves are the expression of a force passing through water .. appearing as a ferocious beast to anyone that hasn’t got sense enough to either plug-in or bail-out ..before it reaches shore. I drag my sorry-ass back to the sand ..and bow my head in hommage to the deities of the deep blue sea.

Hwy 101

I’ve always been fascinated by the shortcomings of judgment ..especially my own. One of my favorites is the way I read critical intentions into the innocent things other people say. The other day my dad tells me that he cannot conceive of the way I keep a journal ~ and it sounds to me like he’s saying that he doesn’t approve of the way I keep a journal ~ which makes me feel like it's a frivolous waste of time. I’m also pretty good at slowing down the learning process. This happens when I hear something new and immediately search memory for something that, on the surface, sounds familiar and allows me to say: “I already knew that.” For example, world trade ..? “that's been around since the days of Christopher Columbus” ..and I don't stop and consider the implications for today. Studies have shown that the ability to form new memories depends on the surprise-value of information. This tends to favor young people because the stuff they hear is still relatively new and surprising. However, once the novelty wears off ..receptivity diminishes and retention suffers. So, I figure the best way to keep a healthy memory is by trying to re-capture the days of my youth ~ see things fresh ~ and allow myself to be surprised more often. Oh no, wait ..that’s my rationalization for not acting like an adult more often.

Fire update

Helicopters routinely hover then pass. Still smells like someone had a campfire in my backyard. Mark and Amanda are home after spending the week in Santa Cruz ..she’s expecting and didn’t want to share the air she was inhaling around here. It’s all right now .. our homes were spared. It’s been a hectic week though .. I had roommates who were made homeless by the fire. They’re taken care of .. I’m surprised how quickly that went. They told me that insurance companies subscribe to the ‘broken window’ theory of economics (?) .. the faster they get a neighborhood restored .. the fewer claims they get for theft and vandalism later. I can already hear the sound of hammers pounding ..and a new cycle of teardown and regrowth begins (my way of putting it philosophically).

Tea fire

The sun is setting and you can find me where I usually am during a Santa Ana ..swimming in the ocean. I drive home with the top down through warm night air ..I notice that traffic is a little heavier than usual ..so I take an alternate route ..oblivious. I’m sitting at my laptop when the power goes off ..and switches me to battery. I save what I’m doing and shut down ..still oblivious. I look out the window and it’s pitch black ..too black. I smell what I think is smoke coming from my neighbor’s chimney. I grab a flashlight .. go upstairs and look out my bedroom window. Smoke has blotted out the moon ..and the surrounding hilltops are glowing red. I’m not oblivious anymore. It’s a fire. I run out and see Dr Jones. He tells me that Sycamore Canyon is burning ..and the fire is moving up the side fast. We’re in the canyon next door so, if it jumps the ridge ..we’re toast. From a canyon you don’t get a good perspective so we head over to the high school football stadium to get a bigger picture. I’m sickened by what I see. Smoke is pouring over the top of the range and, behind it, there’s a scarlet red glow stretching all the way from the mountains to the sea. Other people are arriving ..one couple already lost their home ..a camera crew sets up and we’re getting first hand reports. Sycamore canyon, Rattlesnake canyon and East Mountain are in flames ..less that a mile as the crow flies. I tell Dr Jones I’m not going to panic until I see flames burning on top of the ridge. I hear people going ‘ohhhh woooow' and I see flames shooting up from the top of the ridge ..trees combust ..and homes explode. Fire trickles down our side like lava. Someone hollers they’re evacuating anyone living around the bowl. Dr Jones and I head back. Now smoke is pouring out of the canyon where we live ..I feel another wave of panic. His wife is passing out wet towels. I wrap one around my face ..cinders fly ..helicopters circle ..a horse comes running out of nowhere and bolts onto Anapamu Street. Police block traffic and the owner corrals it. Bullhorns give evacuation orders. My eyes are burning and I’m throwing shit in my car. I move it out to Anapamu for a quick get away ..but police shout at me when I try to come back. I go around them by walking up the creek bed. I sit and water my roof until 2:00 am .. firefighters have battled the blaze to a halt just above us. I collapse to my knees in gratitude and pass out on a deck chair.

heineken green

The water changed dramatically overnight ..now it’s sub-zero freezing and beer-bottle green ..the color of a Heineken. Knocks the wind out of me. Eddie says arctic currents must’ve arrived and replaced the warm water that was here yesterday ..probably run-off from a melting iceberg. Lenny laughs and goes: “that means it ain’t no Heineken brahh ..it’s downstream beer.” Then Barb points at her watch and goes: “It’s November 7th guys ..you ought to be bringing wetsuits and fins with you ..that way it won’t matter what kinda’ beer.” We all agree she’s gotta good point. We go for a swim at sunset. The rays hit the water like stained glass ..adding scarlet and pink to a deeper shade of Heineken green ..the sky is a color that no one has a name for.

offshore condition

The water is much warmer and calmer than yesterday ..it’s also beer-bottle brown. Eddie says it’s like red tide only with a different kind of microorganism. He doesn’t remember which. I wonder if he ever really knew. I’m in the water way past sunset because I haven’t got sense enough to get out ~ and now the air's like way too cold. Barb swims by and asks me where my fins are ..again. I try to explain that I wear them only when, like uh .. “like never” she interjects .. and I go: “no, more like on wavier days” ~ but now that's like, beside the point. “You’re never gonna catch me without them” she says ~ and jets out of sight wearing some pretty serious diving fins ~ I hear her laughter fading as she goes. I do a few more backstrokes and head into shore ~ where I run into a dog that looks exactly like Andy, when Andy was just a couple months old, and I’m like: “Oh my god, Andy you shrunk.” I’m sitting there while he licks the salt off of my hands and face. When his human arrives, I tell him how much I love Airedales ~ and he tells me that’s not an Airedale ..it’s a Welsh Terrier ~ fully grown. I’m like: “Whooaah, no way ..!!” and he’s laughing and saying: “Yeah, he’s six years old” and I’m like, wow, looks like a miniature version of my own dog. I go on to tell him how smart I think they are ~ and he goes: “ mmm, not this one ..he’s dumber'n a mule ..we just got him from the pound.” Give him time ..I say, give him time (because I seriously believe Andy is one of the smartest species on the planet).

Niece Karla and Andy

A new day

There’s an offshore flow ~ I top-off my water bottle ~ grab a towel ~ forget my wetsuit ~ and shoot down Milpas ~ Hendrix blaring. I cut through a construction site ~ drive a mile down Hwy 101 (the reason I do this is another story) ~ get off on Olive Mill ~ and cruise the shoreline ~ it's crystal. I sit on the sand ~ take some deep breaths ~ and venture into the surf. My legs go numb ~ reminding me of the wetsuit I left behind. I dive into an oncoming wave ~ shoot out the other side ~ roll on my back and float ~ looking up at the sky through the elliptical scope of my eyes. My brain freezes. I see Robert in the distance and shout ~ asking him why he’s not skim boarding ~ he shouts back saying there were dolphins out here like ten minutes ago ~ he wanted to get a closer look. Once you’re in ~ you don’t want to get out. The sunset turns the sky bright orange ~ Robert tells me to turn around ~ behind me the sky is like ultra-violet. The water is smooth ~ flowing cohesion ~ I feel calm ~ a sense of renewal washes over me ~ I think back to yesterday ~ and the peaceful revolution we had ~ I salute everyone for a job well done.

Wheel inside a wheel

I’m still upset about my conversation with Jim yesterday. I need some reassurance, so ..I call my friend Marty; a financial planner in Laguna Beach. He sounds really shook. He tells me that he’s having panic attacks and trouble sleeping at night. Three years ago, about the height of the real estate market ..he was afraid the bubble was going to burst ..so he sold his ranch in Trabuco Canyon and moved to a small apartment in town. He put the money he made into the stock market. Now he’s watching his investments evaporate ..and says it feels like he stepped off a cliff ..and he’s still falling. I guess he didn’t see it coming ..but then ..who did. Worst part of it is, he says, his clients call him everyday going: “Marty, I can’t take it anymore ..cash me out.” I tell him to hang-in there ..ride it out (surfing term) ..it can only get better. He says he’s gotta’ go now and put dinner ..or his head ..in the oven. The poor guy feels worse than I do. I conclude that it doesn’t matter which party is in power ..the markets are like a cycle inside a cycle inside a cycle. Government has about as much chance of harnessing that as they do the weather.

Jim

Jim is furious with me. The closer it gets to election day, the more black and white our thinking becomes. He knows I’m independent ..but socially progressive. To him that’s socialism. Then, like a drop of ink in clear water ..everything turns color. Over the phone, he blames the democrats in congress for the financial mess we’re in. Nothing specific comes to mind so I ask him to explain. Annoyed, he shouts: “you know ..social programs like Fannie Mae”. Being from another generation, it seems like they’ve been around forever ..I Google them and find out they were created in the 1960’s ..and I’m thinking Johnson administration, great society and entitlement programs ..maybe he’s right ..but then, no ..that can’t be ..goes back too far. I go: “Jim, that was forty years ago ..property values have been going up ever since ..what happened ?” He goes: “We have a democratic congress again.” I still don’t see the connection ..so I figure it’s my turn to make up some shit: “Tell you what I think, Jim ..it’s the republican administration’s fault ..they made it easier for banks to make risky loans .. by allowing investment firms (like Lehman Bros.) to buy them and re-sell them in the stock market (I figure, kind of like Fannie Mae ..it let’s the banks off the hook). Silence. “Jim, I think there’s plenty of blame to go around ..” More silence. I’ve crossed the line into irredeemable territory. We end the conversation politely ..but he’s not too pleased with me. I think I need to get one of those books by Dale Carnegie.

Predatory behavior

Coming from Orange County ..where beach parking is a nightmare ..I’m always delighted when I can pull off the road anywhere I want ..for free. I walk down the steps to a beach ..located in Oprah County ..as though I’m a local. I’m walking by the water, minding my own business, pleasantly empty-headed ..when I walk into the middle of a frisbee toss. It lands in the water where a tall blond, wearing only a thong, goes: “I’m not playing anymore” ..and walks back to her towel. I wade in to fetch the frisbee ..thinking about the thousands I’ve lost the same way ..when her male partner gets right in my face going: “I know you ..didn’t you use to hang out at Rocks ?” (a bar on State street). I’m like, no ..you must be thinking of someone else ..and figure that’s it. He doesn’t budge . He proceeds to tell me the names of all the other bars he goes to ..and all the property he owns ..how much money he wins in Vegas ..how they comp his airfare, hotel rooms and hookers ..how he schmoozes the blackjack dealers ..and always leaves there several thousand dollars richer. Then asks me how I would like to join him sometime. I tell him about the time I lost forty grand in Tahoe and swore off gambling. He tells me Vegas is a different story ..and changes the subject. Meanwhile, he’s still in my face ..and standing so close that we bump into each other every time our weight shifts in the sand. I don’t mind ..he’s pleasant enough and has good hygiene, but ..I can’t figure out what all the self-promotion is about. Now he’s talking about his efforts to save the ocean ..and I ask him if he’s an attorney (a conversation killer) ..and he’s like, no ..just someone who knows the right moves ..like when he’s in Vegas ..and blah blah blah. Then he asks if I’d like to join him up on the beach right now ..and gestures toward a group of babes. I chuckle and say that I’d love to, but ..I gotta go. He tells me to stop by next time ..they’ll be there. I say OK ..and ask his name. Steve Harmon. I’m walking away wondering where I heard that name before. I take a swim ..and sit on the sand to watch the sunset. Then one of Steve’s girls comes over and says she’s sure she knows me from somewhere ..and I say I don’t think so, because I’d definitely remember her. She goes: “Don’t you live in Hope Ranch ?” No, I reply ..must be someone else you’re thinking of. Now I’m sure this isn’t just friendly conversation. I told Steve I’m not a local ..but wasn’t more specific .. and now I just ruled out the second wealthiest place around. I politely tell her that I have to go .. and walk up the steps .. go over to my car ..when, boom ..it hits me. I remember where I heard his name. He was a high-rolling venture capitalist in Silicon Valley ..who took a well-publicized beating during the dot-com bust of 2001. So, now I’m thinking ..the stock market isn’t looking so hot ..he probably wants to see if I’m someone who could help bankroll his next gambling expedition. Suspicious soul that I am.

indian summer

I run into Barb and Chris today, swimming back into shore ..while I'm swimming out to sea. They ask me where my fins are ..and I tell them in the trunk of my car ..I didn’t think the waves looked big enough. They tell me I’m not going to get very far without them. That’s OK, I tell myself ~ I’m content to just float around here out anyway ~ looking up at the sky and letting the swells roll by. On shore there’s a dude, in a beer-fueled frenzy, throwing rocks, the size of bowling balls, into a pattern that looks like the shape of a skull. Father down, the signs of yesterday’s dredging operation have disappeared. I’m not even sure where it was anymore. They were trying to free a sailboat that’d gotten washed up and buried in the sand. There was a great big trench about 40 feet in diameter, and 8 feet deep. The tide must’ve come in and sealed it over. I feel even more disoriented when that huge old seal-rock that I’m looking for is gone ~ until I realize it was never there ..it’s in Laguna Beach. I make note of this as just another instance of my mind playing tricks on me ~ transposing something from the past into my notion of what should be in the present.

indian summer

The offshore breeze is warm ..but the water is so cold it gives me brain-freeze. From the shore I can see a pod of dolphins ..if I were out there still; they’d be bumping into me. I can hear water shooting out of their blowholes whenever they come to the surface. Barb says they must be feeding ..I say I think they’re playing ..Chris says they’re probably playing and feeding ..what a diplomat. I ask them if they swam out to the shipping lanes again today. They laugh and tell me ‘whatever it takes to reach a sustained 'cardio-rate’. They’re a couple restauranteurs I know from town ..out here between the lunch and dinner crowd. I admire them. They’re both a little bit older, but hell of a lot better swimmers than me.

offshore condition

The offshore wind is so cold today, it cuts my flesh, lungs and nerves. The air is so thin it makes me feel heavy. I take a short hike ~ and my body rebels. I feel resistance in my legs and hear voices screaming. I shout back, telling them to get used to it and go with the flow. We pass the place where the condos are going to go ~ and I’m thinking about what I’m going to say at the planning commission next Tuesday. No Way! They’re totally out of character with the area. Furthermore, they’re on the way to the County Bowl. where I envision more cars ~ more quarrels ~ more walls ~ more cops. Now, don’t get me wrong ~ I’m not against change ~ or progress ~ or the wind for that matter ~ as long as it goes in the direction I want it to go. Otherwise, I rebel and blow off a head of steam. Sometimes it works ~ sometimes it doesn’t. When it doesn’t, I know it’s time to quit ~ I hear someone shouting back, telling me to get used to it and go with the flow.

I heard another metaphor today. My neighbor Don says that the recent plunge in the stock market reminds him of wiping out at the Wedge in Newport Beach “It’s like you’re three feet under water ~ you can see the sky and the sun ~ but you can’t seem to get there.”

another place to fall

indian summer

A flock of pelicans hover, then tuck their wings and dive-bomb for fish. I sit amazed and cheer, wondering if they use sonar, feature detectors ..or telepathy as I was once told. In any case they’re as close to prehistoric times as you can get. Robert takes a running start and skims across the surface on his board ~ he kicks-off a wave and goes into an aerial spin ~ landing in time to catch the wave back to shore. He does this between classes. In the distance, I see people paddling out on stand-up surfboards called Ku Hoe He'e Nalu ..meanwhile I’m riding shorebreak and getting friction burns from the sand ..Robert laughs. The sky is a brilliant shade of royal blue ..a quarter moon smiles through ~ palm trees pierce the view ~ then Ka-boom ~ another wave crashes ~ water rushes around my feet ~ Robert skims ~ and a new cycle begins.

indian summer

Today is the first day of summer in Santa Barbara. Autumn is when the offshore wind comes and blows the marine-layer away ..turning the beaches crystal clear! I roll back the ragtop, throw in some Churchills and careen through town ..everything is blurry. I round the bend from Olive Mill to Channel Drive ..and everything is clear. I’m so white I shine like porcelain. I pour on sunscreen, spf 1001, do some deep breathing exercises ..and hurl my body into the water. It's refreshing but not too cold. There are some decent swells, so I get past the impact zone ..and ride a few in. Sitting on the shore I feel like I'm like looking at a poster by Rick Griffin ..which is as of deep as I want to go on this fine day.[Link]

nothing

I practice meditation ~ some people tell me that I’m wasting my time ~ what good is sitting doing nothing ~ I’m no expert and I have no answers ~ in fact, sometimes I have my own doubts and stop practicing ~ writing it down is a way of explaining it to myself ~ if reading someone else’s explanation about doing nothing sounds like a waste of time ~ feel free to move on ~ who can blame you. Nothingness is a necessary state for something to happen ~ Buddha said something like this over 2,500 years ago ~ lately, practitioners in the field of neuroscience have been re-discovering the teachings of Buddha ~ I find this strangely reassuring. At the earliest stage of experiencing something ~ nothing is happening. Between each event arriving at the senses ~ the lenses are wiped clean ~ even a simple nerve cell has to return to a neutral state before it can receive and transmit a clear signal to the brain. Buddha taught that the mind and body are in a state of perpetual renewal ~ and that meditation is simply a period of doing nothing to interfere ~ just sitting and watching instances of thought and feeling appear and disappear ~ without judging or criticizing them as they go ~ I find that sitting still and doing nothing is just about the hardest thing in the world to do.

zen practice

Nobody takes turns talking in my head ~ everyone keeps shouting at the same time ~ it doesn’t matter though, no one is really listening ~ sometimes, during practice, I catch a riff ~ today it went like this:

Hey, I practiced a little longer today ~ Yeah, well .. if you keep practicing out here the neighbors are going to think we’re nuts ~ I don’t care, I like being outdoors, besides ..I stopped feeling like I was living in a fishbowl a long time ago ~ Oh yeah ..then what made you bring it up? ~ Just an observation ~ No it wasn’t ..you were obsessing ~ OK, I was observing myself obsessing ~ A lot of good that’ll do ~ Actually, non-judgmental observation is an excellent way to practice ~ Who told you that? ~ Jisho Perry ~ Sounds like an excellent way to practice rationalizations if you ask me ~ That’s because you don’t practice enough ~ Hey, there is no such thing as ‘too much’ or ‘too little’ ..it’s just practice, remember? ~ Where’d you get that idea? ~ Jisho Perry ~ Do you believe everything he tells you ?~ No ~ Yes you do ~ No I don't ~ and so it goes ~ No wonder I don’t do this more often.

Animal poo

For the past couple weeks I’ve been walking up a road that leads to a canyon behind me. A fine yellow powder covers the road and makes me wonder ~ I look up at the oak trees ~ but they are not like eucalyptus trees that leave pollen all over my deck. Oak trees don’t shed like that. I ran into Bob today, a retired dentist who lives across the way. I like to call him ‘Dr Jones’ the way they do in the Indiana Jones’ movies. Anyway, the oak trees belong to him and he tells me there’s an ‘oak caterpillar’ eating the leaves ~ he points out a couple of trees that I hadn’t noticed ~ they’re almost bare. It turns out that the yellow powder I’d been wondering about is the excrement from this leaf-eating activity ~ and I’m like euwwww. The nearest cross-street is called Anapamu ~ which I jokingly pronounce ‘animal poo’ to friends of mine from out of town. I guess I’m not joking anymore.

Slip stream

There’s a stream running through my head. I sit and watch it go by ~ one flashing instance after another. When I try to push it ~ or tweak it ~ I disperse it. Now I’ve got several streams running through my head. I see images of my father holding me on his knee ~ zen master Jisho walks by but can’t stay for tea ~ my neighbor Don appears telling me it’s going to be a good day. I see images of Big Sur smoldering and feel anxious about going. Now I’m trying to peak at instances that haven’t arrived yet. Jisho's voice gently tells me I’m leaning too far ~ but it’s too late ~ I’m tumbling head over heels ~ hoping to land in instances closer to home. Doctor Jones tells me to get a grip ~ I'm having an out-of-sequence experience ~ I see the warning signs ~ curva peligrosa ~ I swerve to avoid them and sirens wail ~ a police car roars by like a freight train. I drive along the shoulder until I come to an off-ramp and disappear down the side streets.

Smart people

Video exchange ~ that’s the deal ~ for one fee I get to see as many videos as I want ~ but not at the same time ~ I have to give one back before I can take the next. So, tonight I’m all psyched to see the third season of ‘weeds’ ~ I make sure to put the old video ‘smart people’ in the car before I leave. I arrive at Blockbuster and go directly to the aisle I want ~ the videos are a little mixed up so I shuffle them around until I find the one I’m looking for ~ disk three. I go up to the counter and realize I don’t have ‘smart people’ ~ must’ve left it in the car ~ so I put down weeds ~ go outside and proceed to tear the car apart ~ no luck ~ I must’ve left it at home. I finish shopping then go home and tear the house apart ~ twice ~ and give it up for lost, figuring, this time ~ before I see weeds ~ I’ll have to pay full price for the other video. I take my credit card, go back to Blockbuster, pick up a copy of weeds, and my copy of smart people is sitting right behind it.

Wine country

Water from the Pacific Ocean hits the coast and vaporizes ~ the vapor gets sucked up by thermal drafts and separates into molecules ~ the water molecules get carried away by the jet stream and turn into clouds that rain over the vineyards of California ~ the rain water gets sucked into grapes and the grapes are turned into wine ~ the wine is consumed by people on the coast who dutifully return it to the Pacific Ocean where it crashes into warm coastal air and vaporizes again ~ so, I think what I’m trying to say is ~ the next bottle of wine you drink may have originated in your own backyard.

Letter to the editor

The Los Angeles Times printed my letter today. It's a response to an article written by economist Dan Ariely, titled ‘Deconstructing confidence’ [link].

Letter:  Dr. Ariely, If exposure to uncontrollable events leads to helplessness ..I’m not sure government regulation is the proper antidote. It seems like this would reduce our sense of control even further. I agree that we’ve experienced an alarming sequence of disasters over the last decade. But, I also believe it’s the experience of overcoming events like these that bolsters confidence ..not relying on ‘government planners’ to circumnavigate them for us. Besides, no one is ever going to eliminate unpredictable events and setbacks. The best we can do is prepare for them by fostering a sense of resilience. That seems like a far better antidote to feelings of helplessness than government regulation.

Deconstructing

Another newspaper article caught my attention [link]. Dr. Ariely, a noted economist, cites a landmark study in behavioral science to support his call for more government regulation. While I’m neither for nor against regulation ~ he chose to misinterpret a study I’m familiar with ~ and I need something to write about ~ so bear with me ~ there's a point here somewhere. In 1965, researchers discovered that lab animals, who experience a sequence of uncontrollable events, do not learn future tasks as well as their peers with no such experience. They called this condition ‘learned helplessness’. So now, according to Dr. Ariely, learned helplessness is the reason why Americans are not responding realistically to current economic conditions. Over the last decade, we’ve experienced too many uncontrollable shocks ..things like the Internet crash and the housing collapse. What we need now are more ‘government planners’ to circumvent these things for us. I don’t know, for some reason this doesn’t sound like the proper antidote ~ and ~ pay attention ~ because here's where Dr. Ariely parts ways with the scientific community: the investigators originally working on learned helplessness, discovered that it mimics depression ..and began looking for ways to alleviate it. They found that it takes only a few successes, in situations that people previously considered insurmountable, to restore confidence ..and foster a sense of resilience to future setbacks. Since I don’t think we’re going to eliminate setbacks anytime soon, resilience seems like a far better antidote to feelings of helplessness than government regulation.

Through the looking glass

I wake up to the fragrance of incense, baked cookies and ganja drifting through my bedroom window ~ I throw on some overalls, splash water on my face, pop a couple chewable vitamin C and go investigate ~ my neighbor is playing a wooden flute while a member of his band gently strums a guitar. I'm reminded of meditation time at the Ashram ~ with a twist ~ without words I sit and listen ~ feeling hypnotized ~ Anahstasia passes me a bowl ~ I breathe in deeply and close my eyes ~ a note is struck on a cymbal and the music moves in another direction ~ I follow ~ letting go of my plans for the day ~ I sit and watch them fade away ~ the cymbal rings again and the music moves in a different direction ~ then suddenly ~ flash ~ We’re walking through the redwood trees on cold springs trail ~ I feel like I passed through the looking-glass ~ and popped out here ~ good thing I slipped on a pair of Merrells this morning ~ I try to mention this but my lips are numb and my tongue is heavy ~ I hear their children laughing from the tree limbs above ~ and I’m reminded of the elves of Lothlorien ~ the stewards of the forest appear ahead ~ smiling and welcoming us to join them in a drum circle ~ I bow in greeting and find a place to sit ~ hoping this isn’t a test or something because I don’t know anything ~ and there wasn't time to study.

Reading minds

I ran across an article in today’s paper that caught my attention. It says that army scientists are looking for a way to capture human thought ~ using brain waves ~ in order to help soldiers returning from Iraq with head injuries. Since I somehow consider it my life’s work to debunk overreaching statements like these ~ I thought to myself ~ I know brain waves are good at tracking levels of attention ~ and biofeedback is used to help people with ADD. However, I can find no evidence to suggest that brain waves somehow represent the vicissitudes of human thought. This project has no merit. The only reason the military would consider such a possibility is in search of a better method of mind-control ..which is precisely what they were after, without success, when they conducted unorthodox experiments using LSD back in the sixties. They’re obviously not doing this in the interest of science ..so I certainly can’t believe they’re doing it for the benefit of soldiers returning from Iraq.

Observation deck

The bubbles on the surface of my morning coffee are reflecting different colors ~ I move in for a closer look ~ fine little twinkling stars of violet and green ~ how come I never noticed them before ~ I think back to last night but there’s nothing there to suggest why things would look out of the ordinary today. Perhaps I’m getting a contact high from the smoke drifting by ..and I remember that Cezar is back from Texas. He played Oz fest ..says he’s second only to Ozzy Osbourne in the number of festivals played ~ I congratulated him on that accomplishment, but now I’m wondering if it only means that he’s, like ..the second oldest metal-head there.

The coffee tastes the same ..

Ron comes over and sits down ~ I ask him where he’s been for the last couple weeks. Bisbee Arizona ~ opening another branch of his new-age spiritual center. I’m like ~ Ron, are you out of your mind ..? Those are like traditional God-fearing Christians down there ..with military weapons. I know Lee, we’re really only expecting a small handful of people ..That’s not my point Ron ~ I’m talking about right-wing paramilitary groups who take turns guarding the border ..they’re going to mistake you for a foreign infiltrator and vaporize you. Now Ron is looking at me like I’m the one who’s missing the point. He goes ~ Nah, Bisbee is like the new Santa Fe ..lots of art galleries and antique stores ..stuff like that. And I’m like ~ Uh huh, well ..don’t try spreading the word too far from town ..seriously .. don’t make me come down there looking for you. These are dangerous times for paranoiacs like me.

Drawing by Nicolas ~ age 15

China cat

Rio Bravo

The war on drugs is claiming more lives than the war in Iraq. In the last eighteen months, 4,000 people have been killed across the US-Mexican border .. I’m talking innocent men, women and children .. many of them shot dead with US supplied weapons. There are so many gun shipments headed that way; they’ve begun calling the Rio Grande the Iron River. It’s enough to supply an army ..and balance the trade deficit. In my opinion, drug traffickers have the upper hand .. they follow the laws of nature and principles of economics ..which trump the laws of US legislators every time. High priced intoxicants head north while high-powered weapons move south to ensure the supply chain. US Border States are wide open for gunrunners. We build toll bridges, fences, guard towers ..patrol them with thousand and thousands of border guards .. yet we've accomplished little to stop another force of nature ..human migration. It’s like trying to package water. So, I guess this means we’ll kill 4,000 more people next year in another senseless war.

State of mind

Re: Suspect’s state of mind

LATimes ~ Anyone who tells you they are suffering from ‘paranoid delusions’ is probably not. It shows a degree of lucidity not commonly found among sufferers. However, it is the type of fabrication commonly used by sociopaths ~ someone pursuing profits without concern for the harm they’re doing others. Bruce Ivins clearly had a financial interest in the hoax he was perpetrating ..and a sociopath’s disregard for the consequences. I believe his erratic behavior was engineered ..perhaps as a pretext in the event he was caught.

A letter to the LATimes

Lord Bacchus

My neighbor Dez has a big Doberman, with a bad temper and ferocious bark, in his back yard. His name is Lord Bacchus and they don't like it when I refer to him as just Bach. I forget the reason why so I looked it up just now to see if I could find out. Turns out that Lord Bacchus is another name for Dionysus ..the God of wine and ritual madness. So now I'm grateful to them for keeping me from offending the deities of revelry. Lord Bacchus ..the dog ..has a nasty habit of barking at anyone who passes by ..friend or stranger ..he doesn’t discriminate. The other neighbors are pissed because he can't seem to get it through his thick skull that we live here too .. barking at us doesn't do any good. I think that’s precisely the reason Lord Bacchus keeps barking ..it doesn’t do any good .. and it really pisses him off that, as hard as he tries .. we keep coming back. We don’t learn. So now I’m afraid he’s going to escalate ..going from threatening bark to gnashing teeth.

Observation deck

Did ADD start with tree shrews or humans ..? Do intoxicants play a role in maintaining the ecosystem or are there giant squid lurking beneath the surface ..? I wonder if I’m sufficiently hydrated or having absorption problems. Am I forgetting something ..? Oh, yeah ..I wonder if fence-sitters are the same as flip-floppers. I hear sirens ~ no, those are my ears ringing. What brings some thoughts to mind and buries the rest ..? What’s with all the annoying questions ~ and so few declarative statements ..? Could be self-doubt ~ or the process of analytical-thought. I don’t know which. Where am I going with this ..? I have no idea. Oh shit, I also don’t have time to chat with my neighbor right now ~ but it’s pretty obvious I have nothing else to do ~ better think of something fast ~ nothing comes to mind ~ except maintain eye contact and smile a lot ~ but not too much otherwise he'll think I’ve lost my mind ~ oh, and don’t forget to nod at the appropriate times.

Photo of a tree shrew ~ the first mammal to be able to focus attention ~ and shift attention ~ with equal ease. I admire these little creatures.

Laura

Tropical storm Laura passed through town today ~ in her hand was a pre-paid attorney's plan. Looks like someone's in for trouble ~ I’m not going to go into that now however. We had breakfast at IHOP. Although she prefers the hot salsa heuvos rancheros at Rose’s ~ so do I for that matter ~ my stomach won’t allow it. Afterwards we collapse into lounge chairs on the deck ~ she plays a CD she bought from a singer she saw performing at the airport in Austin ~ Amanda Lepre ~ a folk rock artist who plays a mean guitar [see video below]. We talk about life in Austin ~ and how US drug policies are turning her trips to Mexico into some kind of obstacle course ~ where military checkpoints send her back and forth to get the proper visas and identification to continue her trip south to the town of Monterrey ~ where she was born and raised for god-sake.

KT Tunstall

There and back

I walk a lot ~ Arroyo beach is only ten minutes by car ~ Romero canyon fifteen ~ where I go depends on my mood ~ it doesn’t matter to my dog ~ both places are pretty cool. One day I wondered what it would be like to just walk out the door ~ and keep going. I found trails leading up the steep hills behind me ~ some great athletic fields at the high school down the road ~ and a whole new world of smells for my dog. So today, we head for the hills ~ pass the funky little houses ~ say hello to Marlene ~ and run into Hawaiian Joe ~ we share a little smoke ~ he heads home ~ and I change my mind and head for the high school ~ figuring it’s flatter and better suited to my revised condition. I walk across the athletic fields ~ and do a 100 yard dash across the spongy grass of the football field ~ going “hey, this isn’t so bad ..!” I run up and down the bleachers a few times ~ sit on the rim ~ and it occurs to me, the way things do when I’m high ~ the reason I love coming here is because it feels so liberating ~ I’m not confined to a narrow trail ..! I take a 360 degree look around ~ and there are, like, more than a dozen different directions I can go ~ each one an interesting way back home. There are woodsy areas ~ funky little residential alleyways ~ and it blows me away. I’m stoked by the opportunities afforded me when I’m not behind the wheel of an automobile.

Morris

The telephone wakes me ~ Roman says he found a sweet deal on PC’s ~ Dell has lowered the price of desktops with XP ~ which is good to hear because Adobe CS 2 won’t run on Vista ~ and I’m a cheap bastard ~ I tell him to email me the quotes and hang up. I’m drifting back to sleep when I wake with a jolt ~ I forgot to check-in for jury duty last night ~ so I’m dialing and hoping they don’t do jury selection on Friday’s ~ they tell me to report at 8:30 ~ it’s almost 8:00. I pop a couple vitamin C ~ walk down Anapamu street (because it’s closer than parking) ~ stop at Starbucks ~ enter the courtroom and sit in a panel so large, I wonder if Michael Jackson is back in town. They tell me it’s gonna be a three month trial ~ I tell them I have workshops scheduled in October and I’m excused. I go to the library to read the paper and I meet someone named Morris. He’s talking with clients and members of his technical staff on a laptop. We go outside and chat ~ he’s riding a recumbent bike and I go: “are you on the road ..?” and he goes: “no, the high seas”. I find out that his boat is moored in the harbour for repairs and next week he’s sailing to San Francisco to meet with clients in the bay area. I’m like: “looks like you’ve taken the place out of workplace” ~ and he’s like: “ ..yeah, I’ve taken the work out of it too.”

Shoot out

When I hear about innocent people getting gunned down on the streets of a border-town (see Ciudad Juarez) ..I don’t immediately think of ‘those damn drug traffickers’ ..I think of the US legislators who persist in keeping drug laws on the books ..making smuggling a high risk venture ..commanding high prices for it’s contraband .. enriching drug lords so they can afford private armies to protect their ‘illicit’ enterprise .. and out-gun local law enforcement officials in charge of fighting this fruitless war on drugs. I don’t think it’s the bullet that kills ..it’s a chain of command that begins at the head.

Summertime

Images flash by like scenes from Mad Hatter’s ride ~ one moment we’re sitting on a bluff overlooking the ocean ~ next moment we’re swimming through a school of silver fish ~ we dry out on a sandy beach and follow the strand toward State Street ~ inline skaters streak by leaving jet trails behind ~ outdoor vendors fill the marketplace ~ selling strawberries the size of pomegranates ~ everyone smiles as they pass by ~ discount dude offers me a deal I can’t refuse ~ I look around but Jim’s disappeared ~ a group of performers, dressed like wolves, are creeping up the street ~ they got silver hair, spiky teeth, pointy finger nails and long coat tails ~ handing out free CD’s by a group called Jezebel ~ one comes up to me licking blood off of her fingers ~ Jim pulls me away ~ and we enter a theater under renovation ~ on stage a woman, wearing a long black dress and work boots, plays Mozart on the violin ~ next, we're sitting on the pier at midnight ~ playing chess ~ drinking wine ~ slamming pieces down and hurling insults each time.

Johnny

Johnny is a successful entrepreneur ~ he had an idea ~ took it to investors and attorneys ~ and created one of the first online social networks for entrepreneurs like himself ~ however, you won’t find him on there ~ he’s uncomfortable with people ~ except when collaborating on a project ~ then he’s awesome ~ I got to know John a bit ~ he’s pretty accessible ~ I was surprised to learn that both his parents were drunks ~ it reminded me of how some kids learn to live inside their heads ~ where they calmly sit and watch shit pass ~ and they learn that shit always passes ~ and finding a safe point of re-entry is most assured ~ so they move in and out of both worlds without much difficulty.

Fire update

The monks are doing well today ~ tired but well ~ it's hot and windy ~ and they’re on constant fire watch. Funny, they say they're under mandatory evacuation orders ~ as well as hard road closures (?!) ~ which means that, even if they wanted to ~ they're not getting out ~ and no one is getting in ~ they have plenty of supplies ~ the water system has been slightly damaged, but they are getting 5 gallons a day from it which is enough. I sit and think they're going to be OK.

Click on photo to enlarge.
Report from Tassajara. Photo courtesy of ZenCenter.

Tassajara

The atmosphere is still unstable ~ winds shift and flames whip around the Zen center from all sides ~ things may be quiet on the coast ~ but not for the monks at Tassajara ~ unsure which direction the fire will advance ~ they have strategically placed foam packs and sprinklers on the roof ~ jury-rigged from garden supplies the week before ~ but the fire breaches the perimeter on the north side ~ torching the bird house, a compost shed, a wood shed and the pool bathroom ~ the radio-phone and half of the lower garden are also destroyed ~ the sprinkler system keeps working ~ humidity arrives ~ and the flames retreat ~ sparing the rest of the monastery ~ so the monks take refuge ~ for now anyway.

Click on photo to enlarge.

Reports from Steve Harper on the coast and the monks at Tassajara ~ Photo courtesy of ZenCenter

Priscilla Ahn

Cyber space

I instant message a group of friends ~ we meet on MySpace ~ go to MyRoom ~ watch videos on YouTube ~ drink a case of Ethernet beer ~ and watch our blood alcohol levels sky-rocket on a WindowsIndexBox. After crushing beer cans on top of our avatar-image heads ~ we stumble down MyStreet ~ hijack a transport pod ~ take it to MyDesertedIsland.com ~ blow up a couple of virtual oil tankers (you can actually do that) ~ then watch gas prices soar on a WindowsIndexBox. We lay down on a sandy beach ~ and listen to Priscilla Ahn play the ukulele song on iTunes. I feel wasted and I can't find my way home.

Frontier logic

When the Big Sur fire burned down to ‘Apple Pie Ridge’ ~ just above town ~ a couple of locals stopped it. The Curtis brothers set a controlled burn which saved their home ~ and created a firebreak that spared the town. A fire captain told them they did a great job ~ a crew chief said their work was ‘awesome’ ~ then a forestry official had them arrested ~ saying only firefighters are allowed to do that. Now, I’m no Joe-Frontiersman ~ but I think the Curtis brothers had it right ~ if there’s a fire threatening my house ~ and no firefighters around to save it ~ I believe that makes me the Deputy.

Raw Footage

Local circuit

I duck down a side-street ~ past a row of funky-looking bungalows that lead to the County Bowl (SB’s Greek theater) ~ along the way I stop and chat with Marlene who tells me she saw the Alison Krause/Robert Plant show ~ and boy did they sound sweet ~ I go to the new Bowl entrance ~ that replaced the old chain-link fence ~ that I could get in to ~ but not anymore ~ everything’s wrought-iron and stone now ~ no big deal ~ I’ll go to the football field ~ I pass the adobe box office ~ where LucindaWilliamsBenHarperBlackCrowes catch my eye ~ then across a busy street ~ through the tennis courts ~ up to the high school ~ across the round-about in front of the stately-looking building ~ where I locate the path to the stadium ~ which looks like a bowl too ~ I jog across the spongy field ~ up and down a few steps ~ sit on the rim ~ catch my breath ~ watch the sunset ~ feel a sundowner wind ~ see smoke coming from the canyon ~ and wonder when I’ll run into Roberto again.

Fire update

Steve Harper in Big Sur says that the drizzle they were expecting this morning did not come ~ he’s disappointed but goes on to say: “I ~ as much as anyone ~ knows that nature will do what nature does ~ it’s not personal ~ except for the consequences ..” The Monterey Herald says the Big Sur fire grew significantly overnight ~ a thick blanket of fog and smoke covers the town today ~ and there’s no let-up in sight ~ no more properties were lost but the density of undergrowth keeps the fire moving closer to town ~ “sending forest creatures running to the ocean for cover.” Gordon Wheeler at Esalen says: “Big Sur is not just a place ~ it’s a state of mind ~ a spiritual essence that people feel ~ and that fire cannot destroy.” The monks at Tassajara say the fire hasn't moved much closer to them ~ and it’s a cool morning ~ a fire incident report says: ‘Isolated pockets of surface fire with occasional tree torching and moderate behavior due to higher relative humidity.’ A Zen practitioner says: “..fire has always been part of the karma of Big Sur ..it’s a perpetual cycle of cleansing and renewal.” In Santa Barbara, the sundowner winds arrived last night causing the fire to grow to about 5,400 acres ~ this morning it was so fierce that firefighters had to take refuge in the homes they were fighting to defend ~ it is burning in a canyon full of century old chaparral ~ 15-20 feet tall ~ I like to tell my neighbors we’re breathing the ashes of our ancestors ~ they just look at me funny.

Fire update

The sundowner wind didn’t develop last night ~ thank goodness ~ but the fire doubled in size ~ it’s about 2,400 acres now ~ I detect a slight onshore breeze ~ which is a good sign ~ the weather forecast says that ‘monsoonal moisture’ is a possibility ~ an even better sign ~ I go online to check on my friends in Big Sur ~ Steve Harper says 3 houses were lost last night above Ventana inn ~ and the fire burned down to apple pie ridge ~ but locals managed to stop it ~ then an amazing thing happened, he says ~ the forecast changed drastically from what was predicted ~ and from what is normal ~ to a slight chance of drizzle tonight and tomorrow ~ with marine air coming from the west and northwest ~ which is good new for the folks in Big Sur ~ but bad news for the monks at Tassajara Monastery ~ where the winds could push the fire deeper into the wilderness ~ and closer to them ~ and I’m like ‘sure hope the drizzle Steve sees on the coast travels far enough inland to reach the monastery’ ~ meanwhile, I’m sitting under dark amber-orange smoke ~ that’s billowing ~ getting darker ~ and covering the sky ~ because the wind has shifted direction in the time that I’ve been sitting here ~ it's turned from an onshore breeze into a ‘Santa Ana’ condition ~ blowing from the mountains to the sea ~ and turning daytime into nighttime a lot earlier than usual ~ it looks like Armageddon ~ I am outta here.

Fire update

I’m getting news about the Big Sur fire from a laptop on my deck ~ the Monterey Herald says hundreds have fled their homes as flames blaze out-of-control ~ my friend Steve Harper says neighbors were calmly evacuated so fire fighters could do a controlled burn ~ another friend, Bill Herr, says he could see flames above Esalen for the first time ~ and an occasional pine combust into a tower of fire ~ and John Callaghan just learned that sheriffs have served mandatory evacuation orders ~ everybody must be out by 6 in the morning ~ and at Tassajara, monks say the fire is still burning but hasn’t gotten any closer ~ I look away from the laptop ~ and realize the sun has been blotted out by a dark shade of amber ~ and I’m like what the fuck ~ I shake my head hoping my eyes are playing tricks on me ~ showing after-images of the Big Sur fire that I’ve just spent the morning watching ~ no such luck ~ I call Michael who says there’s a fire burning above Santa Barbara ~ Glen Annie Canyon in Goleta to be exact ~ and a Sundowner wind is expected tonight ~ like a Santa Ana wind in LA ~ it’ll blow hot air and fire out of the canyons and down the coastal side of the mountains where all the homes are ~ so it looks like I’ll be spending the night tracking wind reports ~ because I certainly won’t be getting any sleep.

Image: Smoke over rooftops in Santa Barbara

Bex

Bexi’s grades tanked ~ her sophomore year is over and she’s sitting slouched and expressionless ~ she says she feels ‘a bit off’ ~ her mother says she doesn’t know what to do ~ she tried taking her to the hospital (?) ~ but the hospital said they needed family therapy ~ family therapy wound up causing more grief ~ mainly because her mum had to take time off of work ~ which I’m sure made Bexi feel even worse ~ probably why she’s feeling ‘a bit off’ ~ I suppose I would feel the same way ~ her mother is talking, but I tune her out and focus gently on Bexi ~ I sense discomfort ~ she doesn’t like attention ~ now I sense a shift ~ she’s pissed ~ her mum is talking about all of those ‘private family matters’ Bexi brought up during counseling ~ and how she really ripped into her for it afterwards ~ so now I think that ‘counseling’ must sound more like ‘punishment’ to Bexi ~ and her mother is using it as a threat ~ funny, in my day it was reform school.

Her self-portrait ~ submitted with permission

Fire on the mountain

My sanctuary is under fire ~ and if the wind changes direction ~ it’ll be toast. Tassajara is a Zen monastery located in the Big Sur wilderness ~ 14 miles from the nearest paved road ~ and surrounded by the Los Padres National Forest ~ which is on fire right now. I’ve been receiving messages over the Internet from people who live nearby. Apparently evacuation orders were issued ~ but the monks chose to stay ~ setting up barricades ~ and a sprinkler system ~ among other things. So, the local sheriff asked them to provide the names of their dentist ~ for identification ~ and a team of firefighters has taken up residence ~ being fed in the monastery kitchen ~ mainly rice and vegetables. Although Buddhist monks are known for self-sacrifice ~ they’re no fools ~ if things get too dangerous they’re going to bail alongside the firefighters ~ none of them wants to risk their life to save a building ~ that’s not where they’re at. Nevertheless, my heart grieves ~ admittedly for the loss that I may suffer ~ but also for the residents of Big Sur who have already lost their homes. One person I heard from says that my other sanctuary ~ the Esalen Institute ~ is safe for now ~ even so ~ they’ve been ordered to evacuate as well.

Click on photo to enlarge

Photo courtesy of ZenCenter

Big Sur Wilderness

Brandi Carlile

I went to the Lobero Theater today where I saw Brandi Carlile and Priscilla Ahn ~ a couple of indie folk artists who, I must say, blew me away ~ in fact, I can’t remember the last time I was so entranced by an opening act ~ Priscilla sings like an angel ~ no, more like a choir of angels (she knows how to use the wee-petal so it really does sound like a choir) ~ her songs are smart and funny and made us laugh a lot ~ Brandi wails and brings everyone to their feet ~ how often can you say that about a folk singer ~ I guess you can say that a lot these days ~ I see so many female artists who can play unplugged like Joan Baez ~ perform country music like Johnny Cash ~ and rock ‘n roll like Melissa Etheridge ~ now maybe I live in a shell and haven’t been aware of it ~ but it sounds to me like female artists are finding their voice in just about every type of music today ~ folk, country, rock, metal, goth ~ and some are creating their own style ~ man, I salute them all. There’s something else I can’t help noticing ~ a pleasant but unfamiliar fragrance around me ~ it’s kind of soapy ~ not like dial or ivory soap or anything like that ~ more like something you get at a spa or salon.

Click on image to see full size

Solstice

I drag my tired ass outta bed ~ pop a couple vitamin C and chase them with coffee ~ reminding myself that this is not the best way to absorb them ~ I trudge down to the parade route ~ planning to catch the tail end and follow it to the festival at the park ~ a plop my ass down on the curb and watch the parade pass ~ I see Arabian belly dancers ~ King Neptune and his mermaids ~ Egyptian pharaohs ~ contortionists ~ acrobats ~ Swedish campers wearing only backpacks and hiking boots ~ Ojai girl riding a bike ~ wearing only pasties ~ children chasing bubbles blowing out the back of a float ~ and it dawns on me ~ this isn’t the tail-end ~ it’s somewhere near the middle ~ which suits me fine ~ I haven’t been keeping track of time ~ particles of shimmering colors rain down from the sky ~ and I’m mesmerized. After the grand finale I duck into Starbucks ~ it’s like 100° out ~ and the humidity is like 100% too ~ so, I figure I’ll sit here and conserve energy (and fluid). When I arrive at the park I see a swirling mass of multi-colored humanity ~ I plunge in and collapse under a tree ~ the drummers are drumming but there’s no one dancing ~ I sit up and see everyone passed out ~ I’m drenched in sweat ~ which mixes with sunscreen ~ and goes into my eyes ~ burning like hell ~ I flush them with bottled water ~ do some deep breathing exercises ~ feel hot air burning my lungs ~ and still see no one dancing ~ someone passes me some herb ~ which makes my lungs burn even more ~ sweat and sunscreen continue to fall into my eyes ~ I’m parched and blind but too stoned to get up and look for water ~ or anything else that may refresh ~ Laura is going to meet me here but I’m wondering how long I’m gonna last ~ when a beer vendor drops off several bags of ice in front of me.

Betrayal

My father made me a promise ..he said that he was prepared to help pay the cost of my stepdaughter’s college education ..just like he was prepared to do for all of his grandchildren. He even told me that he considered Vanessa to be like a granddaughter to him. You cannot imagine the joy I felt ..for the first time I felt like I was part of a family.

Vanessa completed Santa Barbara City College with honors. Her artwork was exhibited in shows and museums both on campus and around the community. I felt proud at each award ceremony I attended in her honor. I encouraged her to pursue her dreams ..cost was no object. She was admitted to the prestigious Art Center College of Design in Pasadena. I was thrilled ..all the major companies hire talent from there. I had no doubt Vanessa would be successful.

That’s when my father withdrew his offer. He told me it was ‘unreasonable’ to expect him to pay for her college education. Now he felt like she was taking advantage of him and swore he wouldn’t pay her a dime ..after all, nobody helped put him through school. I felt sunk. This was a deal he made with me. Vanessa wasn’t counting on him for anything ..in fact, she was already applying for grants and scholarships. No, it wasn’t her that he was refusing to help ..it was me.

What's that smell

Joe is helping me repair the deck ~ we’re replacing boards ~ pounding nails ~ and I’m hammering dimples into whatever good wood is left. We sealed it with some kind of new preservative I’ve never heard of ~ it’s environmentally friendly ~ which means it cures by sunlight ~ and takes forever to dry. This morning I can really smell it ~ I open the window and I’m like ~ uh oh ..I had no idea it was gonna smell like this ~ it’s not bad ~ I mean, to me ..it smells like a redwood forest ~ a really pungent redwood forest ~ later on I find out that it only smells that way to me because I associate it with my redwood deck ~ to my neighbor Cezar, it smells like an electrical fire ~ which I suspect is because he’s around sound equipment all the time ~ I apologize and tell him I had no idea it was gonna smell that way ~ and he’s like “no problémo, dude” ~ he says when he discovered it wasn't a fire ~ he calmed down and felt better ~ I ask Joe what he thinks it smells like ~ and he says fiberglass ~ and I’m thinking surfboards ~ so now I’m afraid to ask my plumber Arturo what he thinks.

Social anxiety

I’m rushing around trying to prepare stuff for UPS ~ and meet some friends later for sushi ~ I’m ready to go when I discover my car has a flat ~ and I’m running out of time ~ OK OK OK ~ I tell myself ~ not to worry ~ I’ll call someone and get a ride to UPS ~ or blow-off UPS and go straight to the sushi place ~ and really piss-off Dave who’s in Big Sur waiting for this stuff ~ either way I still have a flat tire to deal with ~ so, I put on a pair of overalls and figure I’ll see how much time is left when I’m through ~ I’m jumping up and down on the jack-handle because someone fastened the lug nuts with an hydraulic wrench ~ I finish without having to call AAA ~ but I stink ~ so I freshen up in the sink ~ the tire looks like it was sliced with a shiv ~ and I see images of pissed-off road-warriors chasing me down the highway ~ I put ‘new Pirelli’s’ on the list ~ arrive at UPS on time ~ and walk over to Arigato Sushi ~ Matt tells me that Portland has replaced Eugene as the place to be ~ he’s leaving tomorrow ~ and I feel a sudden sense of dread come over me when I realize I’m supposed to go there and meet Vanessa and Dustin ~ only I’m not sure when ~ so, I blurt out: “Take me with you ..!!” but he doesn’t have enough room ~ he’s got children, dogs, and supplies to last thru summer ~ and I tell myself ~ OK OK OK ~ stay cool ~ hang out here for a while ~ but afterwards ~ drive home like a maniac ~ go immediately online and start checking airfares. Either that or grab Matt’s cell phone and do it from in here.

Shocking

Not many people I know are comfortable talking to their kids about sex ..it makes them feel squeamish ..so they want the government to do it ..by censoring the media. That way, they tell me, their kids won’t get the ‘wrong idea’. Some still complain about how uncomfortable they felt watching television the day Janet Jackson revealed her breast. They said it was obscene, shocking and distasteful. After that, the FCC ..on orders from the Attorney General ..jacked-up the fine for anything considered ‘offensive’ from $25,000 to $450,000. This frightened TV broadcasters so badly that I often hear the expression ‘Goddamn’ bleeped out of movies on TV ..like Raiders of the Lost Ark ..where ‘Marion Ravenwood’ says to Indiana Jones: “..until I get back my five thousand dollars back, you're gonna get more than you bargained for ..I'm your *bleep bleep* partner”. I’m sorry but I don’t think ‘discomfort’ ..or even ‘distasteful’ means ‘obscene’. What it does seem to mean is hypocrisy and bullshit.

There’s a trial going on in federal court here in LA where an adult filmmaker is charged with distributing obscene material. It’s the first one in Southern California since Christian conservatives lobbied the Bush administration to crack down on this kind of thing. The jurors in this case are supposed to define ‘what’s obscene’. Prosecutors were planning to subject them to hour after hour of sexually explicit videos ..hoping to win ..and give the federal government the authority to set standards for entertainment across the land.

That is ..until they discovered the judge hearing this case was putting the same kind of material on his website. That’s when the hypocrisy and bullshit began to fly. First, the judge blames his son for putting it there ..then a fellow U.S. judge defends him by saying the only mistake he made was getting caught ..then another federal judge steps in and says it’s only wrong if he intended to share it with others ..then the original judge claims it is not ‘officially obscene’ ..but later says he must’ve uploaded the ‘obscene’ material by accident ..while trying to upload something wholesome ..he goes on to show how that can happen ..as if we didn’t already know ..or haven’t used that excuse ourselves.

My issue is not with the judge or his website. It’s with the parents, ministers and federal court judges who cannot engage in an honest dialog about sex ~ because the subject makes them feel ‘squeamish’. I guess my point is ..I don’t want squeamishness to be the basis for censorship. I believe we are all responsible for what goes on in our head. Better that we see things in a knowing and healthy manner than cover it up and feel shocked all the time.

Indy

A moment of lucidity ~ I’m enjoying the new Indiana Jones movie ~ but have to keep reminding myself what he’s after ~ crystal skulls ~ real-world entities that, according to legend, were made by the hands of other-world beings ~ beings who visited earth, before Columbus, and were worshipped as gods by the early Mayans ~ the skulls are said to have mystical properties that could put us in contact with their creators ~ I repeat this to stay grounded ~ and bring context and coherence to this high-speed adventure. It’s really spectacular. Afterwards, I ask my friend’s 10-year-old daughter if she caught the part where they reveal the meaning of the skulls ~ “uh, kinda” she says ~ “I like the part where they were flying through the jungle and sword fighting.” ~ You got it ..I tell her.

Language of squirrels

The Senate Intelligence Committee just released a report titled: ‘how the fuck did we get here’ or ‘what did Bush know and when did he know it.’ Most people think it’s a waste of time and I have to agree ..it’s like beating a dead horse. But, if you listen closely ..it reveals something about human nature ~ how susceptible we are to deceptive speech. It also supports my theory that the mind is a story-making device ..in the absence of substantial information ..it makes up shit (anyone interested in where this shit comes from ..click here ~~>theory). Although there was no Intelligence information to support it, President Bush continually implies a link between Hussein and 9/11.

“After September 11th, we’ve entered into a new era and a new war ..and Saddam Hussein is a man that we know has had connections with Al Qaeda.”

“Secretly, and without fingerprints, Hussein could provide his hidden weapons to terrorists, or help them develop their own.”

I have to give Bush credit ..although he implies these connections ..he never comes right out and makes them. He relies on his listeners to do that ..which they did ..a Washington Post survey found that over two-thirds (69%) of Americans believe they heard Bush say Saddam Hussein was behind the attacks of September 11. I also admire the way he squirreled out of it later by having Condoleezza Rice go on ABC’s Nightline and say: “We never claimed that Saddam Hussein had either direction or control of 9/11.”

More Victors

In my estimation, there are probably thousands more soldiers, like Victor, returning from Iraq with mental conditions that are too subtle to detect without long-term evaluation. I know that when the brain takes a hit ..the first thing to go is attention. The second is impulse-control. It looks to me like these two things are causing Victor’s problems. Much of the surface area of the brain is dedicated to reducing ‘out-of-scope’ activity ..allowing us to focus, and act, on what’s relevant. Anything that impairs this action can leave us open to signals that disrupt conscious experience. This may account for the way Victor misperceives his parents, cars and carbonation. Symptoms like these may not appear for months after a soldier returns home. What often brings them to the attention of health care providers are complaints from family and friends who say they are no longer following the ‘script’ of the wholesome teenager they once knew ..growing up in the sheltered community of Santa Barbara. Or, worse ..they’re not following the script of the ‘noble young man’ returning from war ..which is complete bullshit because there’s nothing in the background of a teenager growing up in Santa Barbara ..or Nebraska for that matter ..that will ever prepare them to counter the horrors of war and it’s aftermath. The long-term consequences of our policies in Iraq ..and the ‘stop-gap’ policy of recruitment ..will be felt by this generation of Americans for a long time to come.

Victor's war

Victor returned from Iraq last fall after suffering a ‘head trauma’. He was knocked unconscious by the shock of a roadside bomb while on patrol. At first he seemed OK ..just a ruptured eardrum and a little blurring in his left eye. His parents were relieved. He was an honors student in high school. However, after returning to college ..he couldn’t keep up with his studies. He claims he can’t remember a thing he reads. But tests found that he’s not having problems remembering ..he’s having problems concentrating. He can’t tune-in long enough to finish a sentence without being distracted ..either by noise from another room ..or conversations he had earlier that day. He’s acquired some form of adult ADD. He’s also having problems at home. He used to be a pretty easy-going guy ..but now he ‘flies off the handle’ easily. He can’t even tolerate his parents asking him how his day went ..sounds like an interrogation ..so he’s doesn’t answer anymore. He quit going to school ..and won’t go anywhere by car ..he says it looks like other drivers are trying to ram him. He also avoids beer and other carbonated beverages because the fizzy noise they make sounds like bullets whizzing by. He’s getting more heavily into drugs.

Foggy forest

A forest somewhere in the Pacific Northwest ~ sent by a friend

Cyber killer

Cyber killer .. q’est-ce que c’est ..? fa fa fa faaaa fa ..fa fa fa faaaa fa. An adult whose misconduct contributes to the death of a child has got to be guilty of something more than violating an Internet policy..! But apparently that’s all federal prosecutors can come up with in the case against Lori Drew, a 49 year old Missouri woman, whose malicious harassment on MySpace resulted in the death of a 13-year-old girl ..by suicide. I thought we already had laws on the books to protect children from this type of predatory behavior ..regardless of whether it’s done by direct contact ..telephone or computer. Now, I’m no legal expert ..but I know, from watching TV shows, that when somebody inadvertently dies during the commission of a crime ..it becomes a homicide. It’s no different than driving under the influence, or creating unsafe working conditions.

I realize that harassment isn’t always a crime. However ..what Lori Drew of Missouri was doing is considered particularly ‘predatory’ and definitely illegal. She posed as a 16-year-old boy named ‘Josh’ ..then proceeded to con ..pursue .. harass and torment 13-year-old Megan. This went on for several weeks. Now, I’m sure it wasn’t her intention to kill Megan ..but that’s not the intention of most drivers leaving the bar either. The amount of psychological trauma she inflicted was enough to drive the adolescent to hang herself in the bedroom. The last message she received from ‘Josh’ was: “the world would be a better place without you.”

Section HR 3402 of the “Violence against Women Act” is what makes this type of harassment a crime ..and which, in my opinion ..turns Megan’s suicide into a homicide. I don’t see this as a breach of ‘Internet protocol’ ..but an act of reckless endangerment by an adult contributing to the death of a child. Wouldn't detective Goran see it this way ..?

No pain

~raudulently creating a
~ySpace account and
~sing it to Cyber-bully ..

The letters at the beginning of each line are missing. I can’t get through the first paragraph with any comprehension. Takes so long to decipher the words that I lose my concentration ..get quickly distracted and forget what the article is about. I’ve looked back at the title for the third time now. I pull at the edges of the paper ..but there aren’t any creases in the way. Maybe the column got cropped during printing. I turn the paper upside down ..and letters pop up on the right-hand side ..but now the one’s on the new left-hand side are gone. I turn the paper right-side up ..and the letters fade ..disappear ..reappear ..disappear ..and the words ‘cataracts’ ‘torn retina’ ‘iconic amnesia’ ‘stroke’ and ‘tumor’ roll through my head. I sit back and shut my eyes ..when the real reason becomes apparent. There’s a lightening storm brewing behind my eyelids. I open my eyes and the lightening distorts whatever gets in front of it ..bending things upward ..around ..and out of sight. Twenty minutes later the storm passes and I continue reading ..greatly relieved. I’ve experienced this before and I actually feel pretty damn lucky because ..doctors have told me ..I’m experiencing a migraine ..only without the pain. If you can imagine that.

Cognitive impairment

Says here that people in National Security are accusing the Bush Administration of suffering from ‘cognitive impairment’ because of the way they handled ‘intelligence reports’ leading up to the Iraqi war. Now, I’m no expert on national security ..but I do know a little about cognitive impairment. In my opinion, the ‘cognitive impairment’ that led the Bush administration to believe Iraq was a threat ..is the same process that led the Roosevelt administration to believe Japan was not a threat ..and dismiss events leading up to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I’m not so sure I would call this an ‘impairment’ however ..it’s more like a ‘cognitive strategy’: a strategy of selectively processing information that’s consistent with existing policies or pre-conceived ideas. We all do it to some extent ..it’s just that I expect our leaders to be less biased than the general population when it comes to interpreting world events. The Bush administration dismissed a whole heap of available evidence that did not support their policy of hostility toward Iraq. In the same fashion, the Roosevelt administration had plenty of intelligence reports indicating that Japan was planning to attack Pearl Harbor. They chose to ignore them because they did not support their policy of diplomacy with Japan.

Roosevelt later defends his blunder by denying that he received any warning about Japanese intentions ..claiming that none of the reports specifically mentioned Hawaii. Bush, on the other hand, makes his case by ‘hedging’ ..using ‘implication and innuendo’ to misrepresent the facts. It’s the same strategy used by attorneys when they want to avoid being charged with perjury once the truth be known. How admirable when politicians stoop to these tactics..! Although Bush implies the possibility of a link between Hussein and September 11 ..he never actually makes one. What he says is: “ ..Saddam Hussein has had connections with Al Qaeda.” Not “ ..Saddam Hussein is connected with September 11.” Even Condoleezza Rice had to go on ABC’s Nightline in their defense saying: “We never claimed that Saddam Hussein ..had either direction or control of 9/11.” Now, I find these statements comforting ..! You can rest assured there’s no evidence of ‘cognitive impairment’ affecting this administration ..just the usual signs of deception ..betrayal ..and greed.

Politics of fear

I predict that McCain will beat Obama in the general election this November. Why do I say this ..? Even though I consider myself an independent ..history shows that military leadership trumps intelligence. I mean, look at what happened to Adlai Stephenson when he ran against Dwight Eisenhower in the 1950’s ..or Eugene McCarthy when he ran against the Vietnam War in the 60’s.

Although Obama is more popular with the general population, a poll taken by the independent Pew Research Center found that white working-class Americans identify more with McCain. The majority of these Americans think Obama is too ‘intellectual’ or not ‘sufficiently mainstream’ (for some, ‘Obama’ is simply a funny-sounding name). Last week, a Bloomberg poll found that the majority of white middle-class voters prefer McCain over Obama 45% to 41%.

How do I explain these findings ..? Although Americans are more educated than before ..census shows that middle-class Americans are still largely under-educated ..at most, only 15% finish college (which is higher than 10% back in my day). What does this mean ..? (Besides the fact that I’m a poll-freak) It means that ‘critical thinking’ is not a value shared by many middle-class Americans. We resist new ideas ..rely on old-fashion ideology ..and prefer a leader who’ll protect us from the ‘unknown’. So, while the ‘unknown’ is a territory we all share ..it definitely covers more ground for the segment of the population that lacks a higher education. As a result, mainstream America is susceptible to the politics of fear and ignorance ..which definitely favors the party in power.

(I realize that this post is chock-full of over-generalizations and bias ~ a heap full of apologies to anyone I offended)

John Fogerty

Tonight I caught part of the John Fogerty concert that I missed last week while I was at the KT Tunstall concert. He’s on KCET soundstage ~ which I will put down whatever I’m doing to go and watch whenever it comes on. I never saw a ‘Credence’ concert when I was a kid ~ but friends of mine who did always came back and told me they were hot. “Wish someone had told me before the show” I remember Gil say “..they blew me away.” This was before the era of readily available information ~ so, we all thought they were a bunch of Arkansas hillbilly kids who went to the big city and became successful playing the kind of music they grew up with ~ songs like ‘Born on the Bayou’ or ‘Proud Mary’ ~ that is until I started reading Rolling Stone magazine and found out that they were a group of California kids raised in San Francisco. Didn’t matter ..it just went to show me how easy it is to believe my own bullshit ..especially when a couple more people agree.

KT Tunstall

Wonderful day ..especially if you’re into music the way I am. There’s the Stagecoach Festival in Indio ..John Fogerty at the County Bowl ..and KT Tunstall at the Marjorie Luke Theater. I chose to see KT Tunstall ..which is way-cool because, to my surprise ..it’s all-acoustic ..! Kind of like watching MTV unplugged ..which is a real treat for me ..being the folkie that I am. And it’s so intimate in here ..it's like watching her perform inside a junior high auditorium ..oh wait, this is a junior high auditorium. Her latest CD, which I really like, is mainly rock ..but, those same songs sound almost country when you hear them played on an upright bass and slide guitar. Reminds me of the time I saw the Flying Burrito Brothers at the Fox Theater ..which still ranks as one of my top-five favorite concert experiences .. they showed Laurel and Hardy clips between sets ..which launched me into hysterical fits of laughter.

This show, however, is even better ..!

Roberto

I’ve been working-out at the high school football stadium these days ..using the track and climbing the stairs. It’s a pretty cool-looking place ..bowl-shaped with lots of old stone work and giant trees .. I can even walk to it. This evening I could hear someone singing “I LOVE ROCK ‘N ROLL ..” so loud it echoed. When I get there, I see him sitting way up on the top row .. stomping his feet and pounding his fist to the music ..he looks kinda’ big and menacing, so I decide to walk around and go up another set of stairs ..when I stop and go ..nah, I can’t let people scare me like this ..so, I go up the stairs that go right by him. When he sees me coming .. he smiles real bright, through his goatee, and shouts: “These iPods are great ..I love music, man ..any kinda’ music ..it doesn’t matter ..!” I go: “Sounds like you’re listening to Joan Jett” He presses the button .. squints into the display .. then looks back at me and shouts: “You’re right ..man! You know, I’m mainly into the songs .. I don’t always pay attention to who does ‘em”. “What else you got there ..?” I ask. “OK, wait ..lemme see ..I got songs by Metallica ..Guns ‘n Roses ..Billy Idol ..Blondie ..” “Anything by Melissa Etheridge ..?” “Uh, no ..who’s that ..?” “Doesn’t matter ..got any rap?” “Yeah, I got Snoop Dog ..Beastie Boys ..and ..Hey man ..whatchu’ like lissin’n’ to ..?” “Ummm, different stuff ..lemme see ..uh, alot of Bob Dylan lately.” “I heard of him ..what’s he like ..?” “He’s folk rock ..” I say. He looks puzzled, so I go: “You know, it’s almost like rap” and I do my goofy impression of Dylan singing ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’: “Johnny’s in the basement ~ mixin’ up the medicine ~ I’m on the pavement ~ thinkin’ ‘bout the government ..” His eyes get real big ..his face lightens up ..and he throws his head back and laughs, going: “Whooah, that’s awesome dude ..” and I go: “Yeah, he was like one of the first street-poets ..ever see the movie 8-mile with Eminem ..?” and he’s like “Yeah Yeah ..so he’s one of those guys who can just open their mouth and the words roll right out ..” He gestures with his hand like someone vomiting. “Exactly ..!” I say ..and I’m about to continue stair-climbin’ when he goes: “Hey man, I got some h e r b ..wouldcha’ like to join me ..?”

Now, I’m sitting on top of the stairs ..watching the sunset ..feeling a warm Santa Ana wind on my face ..and listening to Roberto tell me stories about his high school days: “Man, I used to play football right down there ..” he gestures wildly down at the field below ..then he looks around and points to a group of trees “..and we used to get high over there .. between periods ..man, history class never sounded more i n t e r e s t i n g ..” I go: “Yeah, it can open your eyes to a lot of different stuff ..(?)” He goes on to tell me about his own family history. His father is from Durango Mexico ..where he married his mom ..and moved to Juarez ..by the Texas border. They just happened to be visiting friends in El Paso when Roberto was born ..making him an honorary US citizen. Clever ol’man I say to myself ..and I can see that Roberto is proud. I go: “That’s soo cool ..it’s like you know your story man” (or something lame like that ..when you know you’re getting too stoned to understand yourself). Roberto goes on to tell me that he used to be a gang-banger ..a ‘nubber’ he calls it. “What’s that ..?” I ask “A skull cracker ..” he says ..and I’m thinking ..hmmm, probably served him well on the football field down there. He tells me about an event that occurred when he was thirty that changed his life. He got a job working security at the Bowl. Before one of the shows, he was stopping traffic to let the concert-goers pass by ..when he sees this lunatic cross the street .. stumbling ..limping on a bad knee ..leaning on his girlfriend for support ..yelling obscenities ..picking fights ..shouting at his girlfriend ..and not making much sense ..except to Roberto ..who saw himself a few years down the road if he kept doing what he was doing. So, he stopped hanging with the gang .. and cut his alcohol consumption waaaayyy back (now he waits till he gets to the bar before drinking). Says he lost a lot of friends ..but doesn’t mind. “I like it where I’m at right now” he says ..and I tell him: “It sounds like a good place, my friend”