Santa Monica is a pretty special place. It’s a town that is always a thrill and a pleasure to be able to visit on occasion.
Any time I’ve been in Santa Monica I had a great time, even if all I do is wander the beaches, pier, Promenade or wander around the buildings with their interesting architecture. Anyone visiting Los Angeles would do well to make Santa Monica a short-term base-of-operations for the northern Los Angeles area attractions. You are right between Venice and Malibu (my two other most favorite Los Angeles places). You’re right on the 110 and the 405 for quick jumps to other parts of the Los Angeles basin, Hollywood, and ‘The Valley’.
The Promenade in Santa Monica is a few blocks closed off to traffic.. it has nice statuary and fountains, a wide avenue for sightseeing, seeing and being seen (promenade in Spanish)…. you’ll see all kinds of people of every stripe in this little few blocks. You might hear a dozen languages being spoken…. and it’s a pretty easy, open and low-crime area…. friendly people…. there’s a free parking building at one end, park there for free for a few hours and avail yourself of the lovely beach just a few blocks away.
The pier is thrilling…. it caters to tourists… but that’s half the fun is seeing all the people from all over. Some mornings when it’s just sunup there are jogging tours…. dozens of joggers led by trim tour-guides take a quick look-over of the attractions before the place becomes crowded with tourists. There are homeless you’ll often find coming out early… one morning a few of them offered me a beer, perhaps seeing my ragged appearance and thinking I was homeless. But don’t worry, the Police know most of these folks… they’re just panhandlers, not dangers in the large.
The cannon at the Santa Monica Pier
The cannon at the Santa Monica Pier
The Sauropod at the Santa Monica Promenade
The Sauropod smokes at the Santa Monica Promenade
The Dimetrodon at the Santa Monica Promenade
Flowers for sale at the Santa Monica Promenade Farmer’s Market
Potatos for sale at the Santa Monica Promenade Farmer’s Market
Berries grown by our neighbors for sale at the Santa Monica Promenade Farmer’s Market
Freeway Mural in Santa Monica
Parking lot Mural in Santa Monica
Santa Monica Pier
Santa Monica Pier attractions
Santa Monica Pier attractions
Trailer that blew out its tires and travelled tooo long on the rim in Santa Monica
It will scan your photo you send it using bio-metrics. It will then compare your facial features to it’s database of over 3,500 well known people to isolate people with the similar features. I found it to be a very interesting exercise in evaluation of features.
John most resembled:
Edward Elgar English Composer
It says I have a 68% resemblance to him.
Bobby Charlton the British Soccer hero
software credits me with a 65% resemblance.
Maxim Gorky the Soviet Writer (Pinko) accused of a 60% resemblance.
Vickie most closely resembled:
Jacqueline Bisset British stunning actress/model
It says she has a 65% resemblance to her.
Sonia Gandhi Italian-Indian politician.
Married to a Head-of-State 54% resemblance.
Brigitte Bardot Super-Hot French actress/model ‘you know those Frenchies’ 52% resemblance.
(A younger-look pic would have been nice, but I’m usin’ what they gave us)
Now, the observing person might well notice something about this, namely that Vickie’s photo was picked out to match some of the Major-League ‘Hot Babes’ of all time. While John is said to more closely resemble…well… Well, let’s just say….John is no Brad Pitt.
I had a dream last night I was cast into Hell by a jealous God
The Devil walked up and said “You don’t need no lightning rod.
It hardly ever rains down here, I can’t recall the last storm.
You aint gonna need that leather jacket, it gets kinda warm.
There’s one way in, there’s no way out, looks like you’re to stay.
The place is a mess, it’s overcrowded, more are coming in everyday”
I said, “ah man, wait a minute there’s gotta be something wrong,
I aint a bad guy, I just write these little songs.
I always pay my union dues, I don’t stay in the passing lane.”
And he said, “what about all that whiskey and cocaine?”
I said, “Well yeah, but that’s no reason to throw me in Hell,
Cause I didn’t use the cocaine to get high, I just liked the way it smelled.”
He said “Come on over here son, let me show you around,
Over there’s where we put the preachers, I never liked those clowns.
They’re always blaming me for everything wrong under the sun;
It aint hard to do what’s right… it’s just maybe not as much fun.
Then they walk around thinking they’re better than me and you,
Then they get caught in a motel room, doing what they said not to do.
Now the murderers and the rapists they go in this fiery lake,
As well as most of the politicians and the cops on the take.
And all the mothers that wait to get to K-Mart to spank their kids,
Instead of showing them to do what’s right, they just hit ‘em for what they did.
And all the daddies who run off and abandon their daughters and sons,
Oh, anybody that hurts a child is gonna burn until it’s done.”
“If everybody is down here” I said “who’s up in Heaven with God and the Son?”
“Oh some saints and mystics and students of metaphysics 101,
People who care and share and love and try to do what’s right,
Beautiful old souls who read little stories to their babies at night.
What you won’t find up in Heaven are Christian Coalition Right Wing Conservatives,
Country program directors and Nashville record executives.”
Now I said “I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m not as bad as those guys,
How can God do this to me or can’t he sympathize?”
He said “You’re wrong about God being cruel and mean,
Oh God is the most loving thing that’s ever been seen.”
I said “Hotshot tell me this; which religion is the truest?”
He said “They’re all about the same, Budha was not a Christian,
but Jesus woulda made a good budhist.”
Well I thought about my future, I didn’t seem to have much of one,
I looked around to leave but there was no place to run.
I said “I don’t suppose I could go back and try living again?
You know, like reincarnation. I hear that’s the way it’s always been.”
“I can’t answer that”, he said “You’re gonna have to wait for that response,
But it’s not any more unusual to be born twice than it is to be born once.
Well it looked like I was gonna be stuck here as far as I could tell,
I thought I might as well suck-up, you know, ‘what the hell’.
I said “You know that song that Charlie Daniels did?
About how you went down to Georgia and played fiddle against that kid?”
He said “Yeah it broke my heart, but you know, what’cha gonna do?”
I said “To tell you the truth, I thought your solo was the better of the two.”
Well then I woke up and I was lying in my bed,
I went upstairs and kissed my little boy on his sleeping head.
I took this dream as a sign from God so I thought I’d better pray,
I said don’t ever speak to me directly and thanks anyway.
Now so much has changed about me besides me just giving up red meat,
Some get spiritual cause they see the light, and some cause they feel the heat.
We’ve been fans of the HBO show True Blood since its first episode three seasons ago.
It’s a captivating show that keeps getting more and more bizarre… yet even though it gets deeper into myths… the old suspension of disbelief kicks in every episode…and the first season we were transported to a modern world with Vampires newly come ‘out of the casket’, a lady who hears people’s inner thoughts, and a Shape-shifter…. the second season introduced us to packs of Werewolves, and a several millennia-old Maenad. This season more Shape-shifters, a Shaman, a Witch and even Fairies joined the cast.
The show True Blood also has a very interesting and captivating intro.
I love the song ‘Bad Things’ sung by Jace Everett
And the swiftly-moving images bring little snapshots to life
‘Bad Things’
Jace Everett
When you came in the air went out.
And every shadow filled up with doubt.
I don’t know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I’m the kind to sit up in his room.
Heart sick an’ eyes filled up with blue.
I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.
When you came in the air went out.
And all those shadows there filled up with doubt.
I don’t know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.
I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer’s day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.
Like the strangers that you’ve met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
Perhaps they never will…
Fine Art black and white cactus images by French photographer Philippe Perrin. Taken in Mexican deserts. As part of the book ‘La memoria inmòvil’ that will be soon published in Mexico
info. email: photoandfashionstudio@gmail.com
The modern Pismo Beach has been built up over several generations, with successive groups of folks moving in from other places. As the town has grown, and the small amount of easily accessible and usable land already used for building… it was inevitable that building would progress higher up the hills. These newer homes tend to be more individual in character. These steep sites with engineered slopes and retainer walls lend themselves to custom planning for the habitation itself.
The stark geometric lines of the house below are natural extensions of the retainer walls of which the structure is well integrated with.
clean crisp lines in Pismo Beach
Steep drops in Pismo Beach
Many of these homes are four levels high on the downhill side, yet the top floor is street level on the uphill side. Such requires massive pilings several meters deep into the underlying rock. The price of the lot is just the beginning of the costs…. but my.. what massive stunning and sweeping views of the coastline from those windows!
This coastline is something of a Riviera area…. the weather is mild… and the population seems to swell in the summer… in the winter it is a sleepy little town on the beach.
Iberian style architecture in Pismo Beach
The first Europeans in the area were the Spanish. But they used the area only for ranching, the nearby port was a handy place to load the stacks of cowhides that were this areas major export.
Close on the heels of the Spanish were a good number of Portuguese families who became known for fishing these local waters. They left their mark with the architecture, some local dishes, and names in the phone book.
This home is reminiscent of some of the homes in Portugal.
Steep hillsides in Pismo Beach
Strong retaining walls are required in these hills. You can take a steep hillside and convert it to a series of terraces…. sometimes each with one level of a home…. There are some nice examples of steep hillside dwellings in Pismo Beach.
“For that which is boundless in you
abides in the mansion of the sky,
whose door is the morning mist,
and whose windows
are the songs and the silences of night”
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness
ere you build a house within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight,
so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night;
and it is not dreamless.
Does not your house dream?
and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hill-top?
Would that I could gather your houses into my hand,
and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.
Would the valleys were your streets,
and the green paths your alleys,
that you might seek one another through vineyards,
and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together.
And that fear shall endure a little longer.
A little longer shall your city walls
separate your hearths from your fields.
And tell me, people of Orphalese,
what have you in these houses?
And what is it you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace,
the quiet urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances,
the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty,
that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these in your houses?
Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort,
that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest,
and then becomes a host and then a master?
Ay, and it becomes a tamer,
and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.
Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed
and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.
It makes mock of your sound senses,
and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul,
and then walks grinning in the funeral.
But you, children of space, you restless in rest,
you shall not be trapped nor tamed.
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound,
but an eyelid that guards the eye.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors,
nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling,
nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.
And though of magnificence and splendour,
your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky,
whose door is the morning mist,
and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night
There are many arts. Some tug at emotions, some tug at reason and intellect. Some manipulate both.
When prose and music wed to film… and when the philosopher directs the tone… what changes can happen in others?
One can watch a spider work hard and find inspiration. A surfer carving glassy waters, a gymnast or a chess master can inspire.
To do is the goal. don’t sit… do. At the end you’re more sorry about the things you didn’t try, than the things you did that didn’t work out well. Just live. And life isn’t crawling into a hole. If you can, get out and live.If you’re spinning your tires into a rut…. ease off the gas…. and get out of the car! And if your life is in the ruts… get outside if you can. Just do something.One of the most inspirational music videos I know is ‘Right Now’ by Van Halen
‘Right Now’
~Van Halen~
Don’t wanna wait ’till tomorrow,
Why put it off another day?
One by one, little problems,
Build up, and stand in our way.
One step ahead, one step behind it,
Now ya gotta run to get even.
Make future plans, I’ll dream about yesterday.
Come on turn, turn this thing around
Right now… Hey! It’s your tomorrow
Right now… Come on, it’s everything
Right now… Catch your magic moment
Do it right here and now
It means everythingMiss a beat, you lose the rhythm
An nothin’ falls into place.
Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace.
The more things you get, the more you want,
Just trade in one for another.
Workin’ so hard to make it easy.
Whoa, got to turn. Come on, turn this thing around
Right now… Hey, it’s your tomorrow
Right now… Come on, it’s everything
Right now… catch that magic moment
Do it right here and now
It means everythingTell me, what are ya waitin’ for?
