And so it goes

there’s something beautiful on a day like today, where i have no comments and i have no opinions and things just roll around in my  head….that’s what happens when i get out of my chair, move about the cabin, get over here to my favorite little coffeehouse where i can get new air, new sounds, new perspective to just utter the words that wander into my mind.  i was craving everything and getting nothing so i left the house and rode past the places that reminded me, yet settled me all at the same time.  i think about all of the past i could write about but i don’t want to.  there could be some interesting stories to tell you about love and life and death and drama and such but i don’t feel like twisting.  i know that to twist can mean to wring yourself, to squeeze out te emotions in order to let more in, but today it is sunshiny and fall and that’s all i want to see.  no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow just the though of the sun as it hits the side of the building and the voices that all start to blend together as i type aimlessly.  there are visions of fresh pasta in my head if i ride one direction and there are thoughts of my grandmothers roses if i go another way.  i could ride upwards into the northeastern hipster slash yuppiedom that is much of concordia or i could ride over to piedmont where several friends have the family life or i could stay in woodlawn where i am home, where things are still growing, evolving, developing.  a little old, a little young, a little hip, a little nerdy, a little working class, a little of everything in my own little radius that i’ve fallen in love with.

this thanksgiving will mark five years since i moved back to my hometown.  i left santa barbara in cutoffs, a tank top and flip flops, sunglasses on and racing up highway 101 with the pacific blue, the dolphins, the warm rays in november, and wondering what the hell i was doing.  but i knew i had to get out of that habit, buy a little piece of sanctuary, start over.  santa barbara was about my life with him, and i know when i go back to visit, it won’t be anymore.  it will be the other beautiful things about those three and a half years, like the good tomato sauce on rusty’s pizza, and chinese food with my friend and colleague there, and riding from state street down to the beach and around the pond to see a giraffe’s head from the zoo peeking out then curving up past the cemetery and over to butterfly beach in montecito.  it will be the place where i adopted my girl daisy, another good thanksgiving memory – found her picture on cable access, visited her, brought her home for thanksgiving weekend to ‘try her out’ and immediately (of course) fell in love.  she was an energetic girl back then, dragging us down state street to three dog bakery for doggie sundaes – she’d leap up onto the counters (yes, i have a rottweiler) and eat whatever they fed her.  her best friend murphy (as you can guess a much smaller dog) protected her fiercely.  she ran after seagulls and learned to go into the water and life, for one small moment, was beautiful.  she got skunked several times, she ate a bag of tortillas, and she ralphed up scallops, she got hit by a car at 30mph chasing a cat and had only a bruised bum and morphine patch to treat her tough exterior.  we left santa barbara just she & i and spent thanksgiving in an attic, and the next six months as i looked for a job and found my house.  and i did, and it is hers, and we are happy.  we have seen a lot these past seven years (she’s twelve-ish, i’d guess) and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

journal journal, thank you for the online journal.  coffee is gone, time to ride.


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