Californian Sensibilities
Welcome to a bunch of phrases I failed to string together.
Field notes around Southern California.
Anyhow, listen to Pet Sounds cover to cover if you know what is good for you!
“Suntanned bodies and waves of sunshine
The California girls and a beautiful coastline
Warmed up weather let's get together
And do it again”
The sun was out. I was bikini clad peeling an orange next to a pool. Some things are undeniably intrinsic, and this felt painfully Californian. I started to feel sorry for those who would never get it, but caught myself before I fell into being sorry for sunshine, citrus, and a Southern Californian spring.
I drove down that morning leaving San Francisco, yet again. Realizing my specialty is getting out of dodge. Especially, when it comes to a southbound flee towards a desert landscape that abuts the Pacific. For almost seven hours, I was slapped in the face by California. The state that almost swallows the west coast whole–760 miles long has to stand for something.
I drove the 5. The straight shot through Fresno and Bakersfield felt like the backbone of California. The grapevine was dusted with snow. People were enjoying the reservoir that is Pyramid Lake. Los Angeles was clogged and that was familiar. The sun was out, shining, and all was right in the world (of Southern California).
***
I woke up washed in sunlight
Had a Palm Tree Pacific Ocean view and thought sheepishly,
how could you actually leave such a place?
***
Driving up or down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway),
listening to music in Pacific Standard Time is a postcard in motion.
(Especially if the sunroof is open with the windows rolled down and that sun is out).
Carly Simon sings about clouds in her coffee,
And The Beach Boys, in unison, are telling you Don’t Worry Baby or Wouldn’t It Be Nice if we were older or about Good Vibrations.
***
Freckles resurface and the outline of a bikini stains your (my) chest and hips and you (I) feel like yourself (myself) again.
***
Citrus blossoms and star jasmine only overlap for a period of time and it is really nice when it happens.
(because it smells quite lovely)
***
A dive bar named the SandPiper Lounge, but it is actually called the Dirty Bird.
And then there is the Royal Hawaiian which serves Mai Tais Frannie Halcyon would approve of.
***
Sand and sea salt.
Crushed shells and rocks and minerals.
The edge of California and a horizon with an island (Catalina) plus tangerine sunsets.
Also waves and tides and swells that rise and fall.
…it is a rip current not a rip tide(those do not exist; also why do some people say undertow?)
***
This time of year is an annoying summer tease.
It looks like it should be warmer, but in some ways it is warmer than other places
(like San Francisco)
–but it would be nicer not to have to go to the desert to break a comfortable sweat.
Except today, Lulu called and declared “it is hot on the bluff and there are dolphins.”
So an ocean dip happened.
So did birds via binoculars.
Wet salty hair dried out and sandy feet touched asphalt after the fact.
***
Something about a garage being full of surfboards that haven’t touched the water in years, because years ago they were hardly ever dry.
Waterlogged and occasional career ending dings and dongs.
It reminds me of having a sandy bed from June until September (sometimes until October) regardless of washed sheets.
I used to be so tan.
Summer used to mean something else.
God Only Knows what I’d be without it.
