Just back from a few days in Santa Cruz.
I did a lot of walking along the beach, checking out the coffee houses, and reading.
The weather was sunny and at that almost-Fall point one feels next to the sea.
It made me wonder how I ever wound up here in the desert, after growing up on the ocean.
Although the Boardwalk was closed for the season it was still ghostly fun to walk the length, look up and up to the roller coaster, imagine the smell of corn dogs, funnel cakes and ice cream while envisioning the entire swath of oceanfront crowded with laughing sunburned people.
The ocean smelled divine and the waves on the rocks and beaches were comforting.
I rode a motorcycle up to Davenport one afternoon and sat at the Roadhouse enjoying a cup of espresso, watching the sun start it’s slide down for the day.
An escape from the morass of undead life here in Reno, if only for a few days.
Now I’m home surrounded by boxes and boxes of faded belongings and over-sized antique furniture.
Most of it has to go. Hell if I know how.
It was sunny and breezy and clear and so fine in Santa Cruz. I was lonely there but it seemed to enhance the beauty,
It’s cold and cloudy and infused with sadness and memories here in Reno. I am still lonely. No beauty to be seen.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
The Essential Yo-Yo Ma