Adios USA

Thanks to my brother Mike for putting up with me for a month, more than enough for anyone. I witnessed a funeral the other day, a faintly bizarre mix of Anglo solemnity and Latino dance music. In an odd way it may have been a sign that it was time for me to move on, end of the Anglo portion of my journey and the beginning of Latino romantic craziness.
Los Angeles is an intriquing city that spreads itself outwards and upwards in an eclectic mix of styles. An opportunistic doorway to everywhere and nowhere. My last visit on this tour is to a feature I consider to be a friend - LAX.
I came, I saw, I left. I will be back.

Surf 66

"Hey man! you're sposed ta drive route66, not walk it!
One hour pavement pounding for this middle-age middle-class suburban rebel.
The now Historic Route 66 ends it's 2448 mile cross country meander in the Engle influenced town of Santa Monica, marked by a 2'x 3' memorial dedicated to Will Rogers, so officially becoming the "Will Rogers Highway". Some people have walked, run and cycled the route, others have created groups and museums dedicated to it's remembrance. Here is one link to get you started.
In the passing of time doth come change, as it should: with man this happens quickly, not so with nature (well usually anyway). Buildings come and go as have the numerous seas of happy xmas shoppers, who now know this part of the route simply as 'Santa Monica Boulevard'. But journey's end is as it always has been and will be for ages to come - Pacific Ocean Surf before a Setting Sun.
I love to trance into the hypnotic sight and sound of rhythmic breaking waves. On this occasion, to the cheering of onlookers, being deluged by a 6' swell of sea and sand. Enjoy my favourites of some difficult photography, the camera might just survive the experience.

Lines Across the Landscape

I have been walking about this city ruled by the automobile, getting a worms eye view of the architecture, eventually to stand in the Dark Star of Bladerunner, the Bradbury Building, with it's construction in 1893 fittingly influenced by the 1878 Utopian book "Looking Backward".
Vertical lines, horizontal lines, glass lines, reflected lines, coloured lines. At night, so light, so bright.

In counterpoint to this linear wonderland of construction, I watched a glorious animated short film by Japanese artist Chiho Aoshima - "City Glow". Watch this when you can!

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Oh my straining neck too vertigo,
straight and tall the towers grow,
vanity doth scrape the sky so,
to stand above in awe of those below.

Apostle of California

There are those who say to not voice one's thoughts and emotions on the Internet, I say those are the words of Fear and Paranoia.
Do what thou wilt, for Love is the Law.
Yesterday did not start well; a two mile walk to take a lot of rubbish photos from which the best is "bedtime for Schoolbuses" and I had nothing to contribute to an otherwise interesting evening of conversation among friends.
Then at midnight I noticed the light glistening on the statue of Fray Junipero Serra who watches over the 8 grade school opposite the apartment, the Apostle of California reputedly walked more than 24,000 miles in his lifetime!
Pattern becomes fixed in the morning ritual; beginning with the clear away of bedding followed by breakfast of watermelon to clear the mouth, toast and marmalade to bulk the stomach with sugars and carbohydrates, finishing with the tools of thought while standing on the balcony: strong creamy coffee and tobacco.
Life, as with travel, is about the journey, not the destination. I became bored with the journey of family, no longer new or fulfilling, having lost interest in the repeating pattern of daily chore I had nothing more to offer the dynamic of mother and children, work and home. The routines became my own perceived prison of the soul, from which no techniques of relaxed awareness and understanding could escape me. I quote the Mexican philosopher Octavio Paz: "Whoever builds a house for future happiness builds a prison for the present".

LA Watering Hole

Cadillac cruisin the canals of Venice Beach through the dancing drama of Downtown towers and twistin the trail of Mulholland Drive reveals the eclectic cocktail of architectural style and colour from under the spell of opportunity cast by the ubiquitous Hollywood sign.
Hidden amongst the tinsel town display of fame and fortune can be found anomalies of polity pandering to the desires of cultural angst, tucked discretely in the foothills of Griffith Park at the rear of Mount Sinai Memorial fields cemetery, close to the Hall of Liberty, is a display of concrete recreations dedicated to Meso-American history. We have a similar scenario in the small English town of Brighton, a memorial dedicated to the Gurkhas of WWII, hidden in the hills of the Sussex Downs.
Out of this craziness come two good events; a couple of fun photos including the unexpected refraction of sunlight on the head of a Mayan king statue, but more importantly the meeting of new compadres, namely, one Darren Trenchard, an artist painting his way through the urban sprawl and now into your homes via the virtual link newly added to my list of sites to surf.