Rode my bike down to Venice Beach today
The usual freak show
It's boring once you have seen it once
Then rode up to Santa Monica
where my new apartment would be
Seemed nice and quiet
A hell of hill to ride up though
Rode back to Mar Vista
On the way stopped at a gas station for water
Outside I noticed a young girl asking for a dollar
from a stranger for gas
He gave her a dollar
Inside she cut in the checkout line in front of me
And said to the guy in front
"This is probably a bad time, but can I get a dollar for gas to get home?
Somebody stole my wallet."
This guy did not spare any change
I felt bad for her
What if it was my kid out there
with no money
trying to get home
I put a $5 on the counter and told the clerk to give her a dollar from my change
She looked surprised and thanked me
I took my change and left the small change too, all $1.80 or so
She thanked me again and again
As I turned my bike around and rolled away
I saw her walking to a new black Mercedes
An addict looking guy on a cell phone got out and started to pump gas
she glanced at me and grinned, or was it a smile
No matter
She didn't seem like she was going home
I wanted to shout out at her and say
"Never tell of this to anyone!"
On the account of an old Persian fable that came to me:
A horseman came upon a tired walking man
The man begged to be let to ride the horse for a bit
To rest a bit
The horseman pitied him and allowed him to ride
Soon as he was upon the horse
He whipped the horse and galloped away
The horseman shouted out
"Never tell of this to anyone!"
"Why?" asked the thief
"No rider will pity a walker again"
So, tell no one of this!
What if my kid was trying to get home
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Labor Day
And befittingly I spent Saturday working and laboring away. I did take today off and got my surfing gear and headed out to Malibu. Alas this was the worst surfing day ever. The ocean was as flat as a misty northern Michigan lake. No surfers out today.
I did spot a couple of dolphins in the mist and snapped a few shots though.
What to do next? My bikes tires are flat. Need to get a pump and go for a ride.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Sky Sailing: More Random Lyrics & Music
Find the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsJl6XROdJc
Sailboats
Sailboats wish that they were stars,
Floating softly in the sky,
Among our dreams that bid goodbye,
Moving thru transparent space,
Drifting thru the stratosphere,
And onwards 'til they disappear,
These continents from overhead,
Look like tiny paper shapes,
Intricately set in place,
Below the misty mountain clouds,
There's a lovely silver bay,
Where sunset sailors often hide away,
Scuba-diver in the loch,
Speed-boat driver on the dock,
Sailboat pilot in the blue, take me up there with you,
The world looks brighter from this high altitude,
I was walking thru the trees,
And I was swimming thru the seas,
I was falling thru the air,
When it hit me right there,
My eyes are tired and I don't even care,
An airplane carried me to bed,
Where I slept above the coast,
And dreamt I had become a ghost,
I sailed above the frozen peaks,
Deep in cold cathedral caves,
Across the hills and far beyond the waves,
Take the car on the run,
And fly the jet to the sun,
And bring the spacecraft in soon,
While I play chess with the moon,
I feel like sleeping thru this cold afternoon,
Once in 1964, an actress ran on the shore,
And though you'll never return,
I love you Audrey Hepburn,
Sometimes I can see your face in the crowd,
There are sailboats throughout this brilliant sky,
But you cannot pick them out if you can't fly,
I'm glad the Earth doesn't care if I go up there,
If you want to just ask me and I'll take you along.
Sailboats
Sailboats wish that they were stars,
Floating softly in the sky,
Among our dreams that bid goodbye,
Moving thru transparent space,
Drifting thru the stratosphere,
And onwards 'til they disappear,
These continents from overhead,
Look like tiny paper shapes,
Intricately set in place,
Below the misty mountain clouds,
There's a lovely silver bay,
Where sunset sailors often hide away,
Scuba-diver in the loch,
Speed-boat driver on the dock,
Sailboat pilot in the blue, take me up there with you,
The world looks brighter from this high altitude,
I was walking thru the trees,
And I was swimming thru the seas,
I was falling thru the air,
When it hit me right there,
My eyes are tired and I don't even care,
An airplane carried me to bed,
Where I slept above the coast,
And dreamt I had become a ghost,
I sailed above the frozen peaks,
Deep in cold cathedral caves,
Across the hills and far beyond the waves,
Take the car on the run,
And fly the jet to the sun,
And bring the spacecraft in soon,
While I play chess with the moon,
I feel like sleeping thru this cold afternoon,
Once in 1964, an actress ran on the shore,
And though you'll never return,
I love you Audrey Hepburn,
Sometimes I can see your face in the crowd,
There are sailboats throughout this brilliant sky,
But you cannot pick them out if you can't fly,
I'm glad the Earth doesn't care if I go up there,
If you want to just ask me and I'll take you along.
Sad Yeats
So hopful to be met in Byzantium by an unageing intellect.
I am home alone in long while, in hopes of sleeping in ahead of a long weekend, staying up and catching up on some poetry.
Sailing to Byzantium
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
WB Yeats
I am home alone in long while, in hopes of sleeping in ahead of a long weekend, staying up and catching up on some poetry.
Sailing to Byzantium
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
WB Yeats
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