Meeting my random Latvian sorta cousin Andris in Newport Beach at 8pm
gotta kill an hour, why not go to the Getty, heard it's good
that's all I heard, but I had no idea
I would take a train winding up a hillside
see Los Angeles spread before me
turn around
and see a sunset so beautiful
only a city polluted as L.A. could concoct it.
White stone at dusk.
Red orange purple shining behind
free admission, but $10 for parking.
Screw it, you're here now.
"You know it's about to close," I offer him my bill.
He waves it away,
"here, you have 20 minutes."
There's an urgency near closing time
still open but not
speeding around the darkening dusk, so beautiful.
Newport Beach, this place really loves Christmas.
The GPS is leading me to...a ferry. A ferry? Fuck that.
But then I give up
and take the $2 3 car boat from one manmade island to another.
The trashy but divey and genuine beach bars
a shot for a girl who hates shots
I blame it all on the shots.
The guy insists G.D. and I are together
G.D. slaps that girl's ass and her boyfriend almost fights her and Andri
"Let's just walk home."
wouldn't it be nice to just lie down in the sand? so I do.
it's a nice walk until it starts raining
all three of us in a double bed, G.D., me and Andris.
So much for getting up early and exploring
hangover biscuits and fried chicken are the only possible cure.
Thank god for podcasts to ward away the darkness we drive in.
Cozy lovely happy hostel in Tucson.
The sign, we went back for the sign--
Pueblo Hotel and Apartments, rusty swimmer.
The hill covered in the big cacti, the ones with the arms I've been looking for
for years.
The speed trap.
And G.D.'s pulled over oh no!
For what?
Tailgating
haha.
In Marfa, the hippest motel on the planet,
cowhide rug
the Malin & Goetz mini toiletries: Peppermint Shampooo, Bergamint Body Wash, Cilantro Conditioner
the T-shirt, hippie snacks, and American Spirits in the minibar
the stationery, the pencil I write with
the pool, the blue neon Thunderbird Motel
and the next morning.
The Brown Recluse, I can never say it,
is closed
so we go to the sketchy side of Marfa
for some unappealing eggs
sad I can't get Big Bend coffee
but we find a grocery, a very Marfa grocery, called The Get Go
and get some of the coffee and Marfa-made hand salve.
Chinati tour, beautiful peaceful inspiring again
the landscape is as much a part of the art as the art
hot not cold this time.
Route 90 to Houston, not I-10.
Marathon, TX is lovely, I want to stay but we drive through.
I love this West Texas.
Forgot about the border inspectors.
No big deal
but I forgot they'd have a dog, too...
my heart stopped some
but we passed by, smiling American citizens, without a murmur,
despite G.D.'s dredlocks
and the barking German Shepherd.
Driving along the border
so empty
the desert hills stretched around us
like the surface of the moon, like some Sci-Fi planet, alien
and indifferent.
Found out later it was there No Country For Old Men was filmed.
Made it to Houston
in a cloud of fog
it's good to be home.
I go straight to Valhalla
have my fill of Real Ale on tap
and surprise Tim
and talk with Joel
and eat Tim's leftover Thai food
and stay 'til 2.
I show G.D. the town I love, filling in the scenery for all the stories she's heard.
Tacos-a-go-go, the woman remembered, after all this time, that I got a side of sour cream, even when I forgot.
Finally make it to Adkin's,
a key and a small fortune of photos and cards, how about just $20.
Spec's, how I love thee. Again I have no self-control, 5 six packs and some Southern Stars I have to try.
Chocolate Bar cake for the bridesmaid dinner.
Rothko Chapel at dusk, the details obscured
but still true.
Jenny's butternut squash and pancetta risotto as good as always.
I demand to go to Catbird's.
Cameron is not there but Heather is
run into Wells while walking to Poison Girl
Merrill is there and Clory
promised Joel I'd smoke with him,
we do and go to the Menil,
after salt-toasted tofu with Jenny and her little sister at Mai's.
Tim tells me he found a 50s dress
he thinks is meant for me
I try it on and I walk out of time, it's lovely.
And now I sit at Antidote outside
writing by Christmas light
I have smoked my last cigarette
and finished my soy latte
and I'll meet again with Joel
for a Spanish tortilla
and Joel is a gourmand of tortillas:
the original, one with spinach, one with zucchini.
And I meet up with Mara and Jeff, they are busy I know
but they make time to go with me to the places I demand to go
like Onion Creek, where I have Avi's Real Ale porter
for all that Mara has not done
this she does do
and I see it for the sign of love it is.
Then we go to Brasil
another haunt
and it is haunted by these ghosts of my old life
gathered to hear Clory singing and she sings beautifully
and then I leave Houston before dawn.
With Jenny for these next two days
we make it to Louisiana in time for the Abita tour
and in time to not be locked out by the newly installed security gate.
The Abita brewery is heaven in a pint glass
I pull the taps myself, I never have before
it is a strange new power.
Covington and Abita Springs, these cute little Cajun towns I didn't expect
like an episode of True Blood.
Then we go to Jenny's farm
and are greeted by two formerly-white dogs that are as big as ponies
there are some actual ponies too
and a deranged, ancient Pomeranian,
more cat than dog.
Jenny's Rogue couldn't be happier.
Jenny and I watch HBO and shell pecans for hours
somehow I cannot stop my hands from working.
In the cold morning I make pancakes from White Lily flour
and Jenny makes scrambled eggs
from the eggs of the yard chickens
their yolks are so rich
our food is nearly orange.
And I leave that cold cold morning
the 30s are such a different animal of cold
from even just the 40s.
And I am home to Florida soon after nightfall.
I pass the mayhaw jelly stand on the way
pass by in indecision
but turn back
go in
and come out with my brown-bagged jar.
I am home now
to the old home of my childhood and my youth.
Now it's just a place to lay my head a while,
a place to pause the world.
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