The 1
Big Sur
I'm going to California. Bought my plane ticket today. Soon enough I will be balls deep in vacation, cruising down the 1 with my beautiful friend, smoking cigs with Martha, and watching the sunset on the ocean, Red Stripe in hand on Pescadero Road. 4 months have passed since I've been to the Bay Area and I can't take it any longer. I need late night wrestling, bottles of wine, movies til I fall asleep, long hair, the scent of soap, redwoods, road trips, Pescadero burritos, The black beast, bare feet, morning greetings, coffee and cocoa puffs with the kitchen crew, APPLE JACKS (see below), did I mention redwoods, cleaning parties, Coyote Hill, Santa Cruz, and BIG FREAKING SUR! Hopefully I'll be able to fit all of this in 5 days.
Upon my arrival I can be sure of one thing, there will be Red Stripe waiting for me right out of the gate. When the time comes to leave I can be sure of one thing, I will try my hardest not to cry and probably fail miserably. Leaving La Honda has proven to be, emotionally, one of the hardest experiences I've had for awhile for several reasons... 1. I'm never quite sure of when I will be back (it's been averaging every 4 months or so)2. I wonder if my efforts are made in vain. and 3. I know that I probably won't be kissing anyone like that for a very very long time (I consider 4 months a very very long time).
So you may be asking yourself, "what the hell hammerhead? why so vague when referencing your romantic life?" In response I can only say that it has been a very very long road of dissapointments and I would hate to taint this one precious bit of amorous sanity that I have, some how, magically retained with this one person. Whether he knows it or not, I miss the shit out of him every day and can only hope that some time in the future, fate would have our paths cross again (for longer than 4 months out of the year). Until then..........
"We will lie under different stars I am where i am and you're where you are"- Trespassers William
Nostalgia struck me hard today, rolled in like clouds and rained on my parade. Sitting on a hardwood floor thumbing through artwork, I was taken back to Big Sur. For those who know this place, know ecstasy. I am back on my mountain with all of my friends watching the sunset where the west coast comes to an end. On top of the world above the cloudline, feeling your soul sink into the sublime. I miss this home, I miss the dirt that cakes onto your hands, sleeping bag, and your shirt. That is, if you're wearing one...because most often than not you'll be throwing off clothes once you get to the top. I can still smell the whiskey on our breath, feel the wind in my dreads from riding on the top of the beast, and the stab of hitch hikers in my bare feet. Goddess parties, topless in the trees, crying, laughing, drunk on eachother's company. Dancing on the roof, Red Stripes and cigars for breakfast, beer showers, and sunburns. It's all there. It's just me that's not. When I die, throw me off a cliff in Big Sur to rot.
