Sunday, September 21, 2014

Some Words Inspired by the Getty Villa



Enjoyed a pleasurable visit to the Getty Villa in Malibu this weekend.  While there, reclined peacefully on a Tuscan-like, sun-baked second-level balcony, I was inspired to jot some words to help capture the moment. 

It was a plentiful California sun that gently warmed a resting body. 

Limbs stretched and relaxed, the mind settled to a nurturing state of calm.  The wonderful process of revitalization invigorated sore muscles. 

Transported in time and location, the many lascivious traps of Los Angeles became instantly distant. 

The perfect location was found to secure sacred balance. The mind was intrigued by the fascinating relics of antiquity.  Yet, the body was able to embrace tranquility. At once, the moment reminded of the bountiful satisfaction life offers us all. 

And, here are some pictures from the visit: 





(My Mom, Artemis, Greek god of childbirth!)


 (Herakles, my second favorite character from antiquity.  The first being Alexander of Macedonia.  Remarkable statue.)
















This first visit to the Getty Villa was certainly memorable.  I look forward to returning!

(PS: I'll be working to update/fix the template and background issues on the site in the coming weeks.  I hope!)




Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Life's a Beach



Having just returned from a near perfect break spent entirely with family, it's easy to discover a fringe benefit of such a great vacation: the refreshing opportunity to adjust one's perspective.  

Relaxing on this sunny beach, writing, gentle waves crashing in the background, it naturally becomes evident that vacation is not just a segment of life.  No, all of life is a vacation.  

At least, it can be. 

That, however, is a matter of perspective.  And, given the wonderful balance I currently find in mine, all of life seems a big holiday to me.  



Friday, March 7, 2014

Untitled, part 1



It's almost as if the kid had washed ashore in Los Angeles - so quickly he was battered and bruised upon arrival.

The kid?  Maybe only in terms of his naivete'.  At this point, he was was 30.

But he had some things going for himself.  Primarily, a job.  Sufficient in both stability and promise, one could accurately describe it as a career.  And his health.  Always strong from a lifelong dedication to fitness.  

Already scarred by war, disappointments, and life, he was allowing L.A. to flush all he had positive away.

But, boy, was he having fun.

Long a devotee of the Jim Morrison cult, he worked fast to establish his own drunken reputation on the Sunset Strip.

Known to the Doors then as The London Fog, the bar now Rock and Reilly's quickly became his go-to hang-out. Opening at 11:30 a.m., he had a beer in hand by 11:31.  He had also been the final patron out upon closing. During the same visit.   

The "Whiskey", next door, conjured special allure.  Steeped in history, he partied there with angry and frenetic energy. An effort, no doubt, to develop a particular legacy of his own. His wallet, lost forever, was a victim of the Whiskey.  Ultimately, so was he. 

He once stumbled out.  The type of stumbling that produces blood, and leaves scars. That particular evening ended, thankfully for him, in his own bed.  He arrived there via taxi cab.  A taxi cab that he was placed in by gracious police officers.  The following morning, the return ride was a 100 dollar fare; exactly as it had been the night before.  

Only a handful days past arrival, he took a quick liking to a local strip club. A habitual visitor, he beat a worn path from ATM to the private dance room.  Fueled by beer and whiskey shots, his expenditures there could have financed an exotic car.   

A preferred Irish bar was just a few short miles from his apartment; an easy right-left-right. Driving home after a long night of libations, he once got lost. 

Plenty of money and time was spent in pursuit of the perfect hedonistic L.A. lifestyle.  But, none of it, he thought, wasted.  Besides, he was being responsible, never drinking on nights prior to workdays.  

Unbeknownst to him, it was coming.  A wake-up call, though not the first of his life, but the most recent.  And, perhaps, the most important.  

More to follow during the next entry....





Just something I am working on.  Toying with the title, "Burnt Out by the City of Lights"...