Sunday, September 30, 2007

alright, laying low these past couple of weeks. as i type the windows are open and there is a lovely breeze: cool, comforting: autumn. in spite of the incipient blues when the weather is so mild and cool, when the light in california transforms from burnt yellow in high summer to a smudged umber of early fall, one - me i suppose - can't help but fall in love.

silly sounding granted but just the same all the more real for it. we had dinner over b.'s and s.'s house yesterday. their little guy and our little guy are best friends but play is always punctuated by cries over who hit who or what toy the other won't share. even so, b. and i drove around on the crowded folsom, california [famous for it's prison, the one johnny cash sang about] downtown streets in his vintage 1970s era monte carlo for a quick stop at the supermarket on the way to the mexican restaurant where we had ordered takeout. and lemme tell you that blasting along the streets at warp speed is a thrill. folsom was once a pretty hilltop enclave of early to mid 20th century homes. now it is a bustling ex-burb, but large swaths are still charming. the hilly roads and night-time lights made me feel at moments like i was sulu on the bridge of the enterprise, as i was pinned to my seat, and where the city lights that seemed to be always over the ridge. the views were spectacular.

at the end of the evening b. and i were in his garage. he was burning a cd for me: the misfits, '80s era roxy music, spandau ballet, iggy pop and the stooges and david lee roth era van halen as we bullshitted over the hood of his car. i know nothing about vintage muscle cars. can only admire them from a distance, even if i was standing right over one. then tonight as i was puttering around on a couple of errands i listened to the cd. the array of music collected on the one disc surprised me for a moment. its eclecticism is i suppose something i wish to emulate in my writing and life. too much of everything and yet i want it all. too much to ask? sure. but life in writing and in ordinary living is a muchness of extreme fullness. i hope so at any rate. life's too short for anything less.

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