Been Back and Some Pictures

I returned to the East Coast a week ago and didn't even visit my own site. I've visited very little, opting instead for the peaceful of my apartment. And it's been nice. The two-week break from everything, only to come back to a two and a half day work week was very perfectly timed. But the trip was hard. There are a lot of judgmental folks out there who mask their bullshit behind well-meaning facades. The first comment I can actually remember came this summer. Whatever, right? So going "home" to California and hearing certain things from certain mouths either first or second hand is just something I lack any sort of patience for. And it showed.

Some called it a little inner New York. I'm not so sure it has to do with this state, although it's a pretty cool one. It's just the bullshit and the not wanting to put up with it anymore. New York? Nah. I'm not long for this state anyway, which is something I'm looking forward to. But for the time being, I'll keep whatever it is that's coming out close to home and may the folks with the bullshit stay really far away. If they don't? Well, I've got something for that.

So this trip. This trek out West that I never really wanted to take ended up being an emotionally draining, adult-issue-facing type thing. It also became chapter one of this book that I'm on page 82 of. Drives along the Pacific Coast Highway, mad-texting a world away for home, knowing it was all for something are some of the small things that kept me intact. As were the friends I saw, the good ones who made the time to laugh. The same good ones who know much about the last decade of my life. All of it, actually. The same good ones who can just look at the facade and know it's all right.

But there wasn't much time for them to come out. I was tired. Yes, I do get tired. Most know that I can stay up all hours of the night for days in a row (something I'm doing this weekend and quite looking forward to). But in California, during the six days I spent in Los Angeles, I was spent. The days before L.A. I was spent in thinking of the next days. And in the few days after L.A. I was spent trying to recover, barely having enough energy to lift pints to my mouth. Though I managed just fine.

Los Angeles. My mom. Home health care workers who need to be pounded into walls. Social workers with great temperaments in the face of demanding jobs. Friends who bring food but do nothing with it. Friends who smile big and fill the room with music. Holy rollers with big mouths who I never met but still managed to play a big role in what I took from my time there. Impatience on my part. PT Cruisers to rent. High school friends to see. Alumni high school basketball to play in front of Sinbad (seriously). A friend's long-lost uncle with whom I have little in common but who managed to see past my New York. Tri-tip. Fucking luscious tri-tip (brilliant, Sonny!). And a malleable view of my flawed self. It's just learning. How wonderful it would be if everyone could partake in this most necessary, yet oft-overlooked aspect of life. To learn. To admit faults. To face them and then to move on to the next day and smile just a little bit.

And to write. It's my first chapter, which I'm slowly in the midst of composing right now. Taking my time with my first-draft attempt with the support of a select few who will read my first-draft words. And after that? It's the rest of the story. What came before. And during it all I will try not to think of my second book. That one's gonna be fun....

Some pictures were snapped while I was there. Below are a few. And when I can get off my ass to post the rest to Flickr, I will. Or will I use my Google Picasa Web Album? Google is like some freak tech candy shop with a stock price that is out of control.

But first, some might remember I recently had a bit of a gathering at my place. I took some pictures of that, too. A couple are below. The people who were there enjoyed them a little salsa and merengue much to my enjoyment. I will never miss an opportunity to shake my booty, even though I don't really look like I know what I'm doing.

But I sure tried to learn (poor Nevin):

And when all else fails, just move along to the beats:

Now for Sacramento. Day 1 in California was at Shayna's house for some fantastic food, old friends with big mouths, and everyone else. Now about this first picture. I blink. Incessantly. A flash goes off, my eyes close. I do believe it is the fault of my camera and its lack of that "I'm about to take a picture that requires a flash so in order to prevent you from blinking I will give you a pre-flash, which is when you're supposed to blink" feature.

By now, with poor Alia enduring my photographic flaw, I'm just done:

That was all for the house shots. I was over it. I think Dave took about 27 shots and then he threw the camera in the trash. After that a few others hit a bar for more booze, or, rather, Sierra Nevada because one of them is never far from me.

This would be a little post-tri-tip frontin' with my new sunglasses (Sonny again!) before my second or third pint:

Dave on the left and Shane on the right. My boys:

Sonny's girl and my friend-editor who insists I need more in my words (I know, Shayna):

Now in L.A. It just so happened that an old friend from a lifetime ago was having a birthday gathering at the strangest, most sublime restaurant dance thing in Marina Del Ray. I can't even describe the kinds of people who showed up much to our amusement, but I had words running through my head every time someone new walked through the door. And one of the people I went to high school with didn't recognize me until after we shook hands (what the fuck, Jill?) and I stood up. She was, as they say, taken aback. I'm thinking I should be flattered, and I was, but then I started to lament on how bad I actually looked in high school. I took a few shots that night but this one is of me and Yani. We've known each other since the second grade. She knows much, too:

And now for some basketball. Not much to say, except I think I actually suck at it. I can run, dribble, shoot and all that good stuff. But you know what? I'd just prefer to have the ball come to me. All that pickin' and rollin' and running after loose balls and blocking out? Forget it. But I did show up. My favorite part? The attitudes of the people on the team and some of the people who showed up to play. Seriously. You're 23. Get over yourself.

So, me running:

Me dribbling:

'Tis it for the photos. I am happy to be back into a semblance of swing. California's a big state. A lot of stuff goes on there. A lot of stuff to remember. And to forget. And to learn from. And to say goodbye to. Home is here. For now....