love, i will take a better picture of the old man for there he is. you mistake his smile for his bulbous nose, and further below his lips are mostly hidden by a great flowing beard and jutting moustache. and the gnarled tree is a magical stand out from the garden of the worlds- its actually a very vigorous wysteria vine and they seem to tolerate it misplacing the lamp. to me it seems wizened and ancient and obviously it talks. so...
next up- buddhists. i don't know. i was like, why are buddhists drinking starbucks. it seemed odd. i suppose they have every right but i don't know. it was like an exotic bird wandering into the street.
what else... oh yes, camping shmamping. i don't even remember it happening. but i'll try to recap it for you.
it all started out on a tuesday, or was it monday? danica and i went into the hills of los feliz. and lo' there was a burning in my lungs i could not place. there was a dim haze over the land and yet, it shouldn't have impaired so readily. it was not smog. allergies perhaps? the next day i went walking around silverlake resevoir with martel, feeling now the onset of rasp and snarf. i valiantly traversed with gingerpill, zicam, hearthealth emergen-c to no avail. it seemed improbable that in a matter of a day i would be camping but i was in denial of the collision of events.
by friday alas i woke up weary, tried to rally and seemed more prepared to go then my mom except she was busy packing all the food. my downfall was to not bring any dayquil or drugging apparrel and of course not insisting we come fully firewood stocked... but the way i packed the car seemed to indicate space...issues. well anyway nevermind. so i make it as far as in'out and we go to wendys instead and then i make mom drive which is always a bad sign. i seemed clear to nod off toward ventura and though there was a tension headache spreading from the base of my skull and radiating up into the flesh of my head i persisted with no drugs once we got there too tired to stop anywhere, and just laid on the beach with the sun warming me and i in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. knowing it was getting worse but only able to complain about the stops to trader joes seemed too much and that getting wood seemed arduous. having got one bundle already and no more--- we set to put up the tent only to find all the cords had rotted and snapped. i threatened to make a scene and set fire to the tent for warmth and the chill on me was descending made me feel cold even in my -35 down jacket. meanwhile the nextdoor campers in their RV's which i loathe, because on clipped the generator and on clicked the porch light- casting us in an ugly pallor against a lamp that would not work despite batteries and a meager fire which is worse than nothing-- all set to trollope me. their ugg boots and chipper talk, their continual drawing from a giant bin of firewood while we sat as death warmed over me and the drip in my nasals and my raw throat drew nigh. i fell to sleep by 9 and merciful grace the lights went off and so did the generator.
mom would want me to obsess over the racoons that stole over all our stuff, but they were unsuccessful thieves and unwitnessed. i did like the little groundsquirrils who almost made off with moms nuts and chewed the iceplants- their chief hunters the ugg boot wearing girls from next door who saw no qualms of wandering into our camp and throwing rocks down the holes of the poor rodents with no thought to squashing, maiming or in general being brats. mom finally did yell at them. then finally of course i got breakfast, i got drugs, friends came up. ellie who wins the prize brought up gluten free bread and made us paninis over the now well stocked fire. thank the God(s).
because after searching hi/low/roundabout to the locals one guy in vons started us off on this quest that there was a guy who had cheap firewood somewhere around these parts. we were determined but i had no strength. mom happened to ask the janitors and they said oh yes, the firewood guy, well he's kind of crazy but you cant miss down the road yonder with a sign past the church down the alley way. he'll be there. and mom came back like a saint with stacks of wood and not too poor in pocket. all hail firewood guy!
meanwhile maryann and kerry whom i love for coming, seemed out of their depth, tired and mostly cranky- i felt bad because i had no verve to delight them to the good qualities of camping. i think i left them unconvinced. they left toward dinner which left ellie, myself and mom to enjoy soup, wine, carne asada, corn, and quinoa salad by ourselves next to the blaze. and the campers on the otherside of us lent us a mag light. camping life i will note... you are the observed. you are the observer. a great amount of critique and assessment goes into each camper at your boarder- will they survive, are they stupid, incompentent, have they been before, what sort of decisions are they making, what is their life like- such a microscope. but anyway, this is all moot because i was never there- i didn't see the sun rise, or the rain come shortly after 8am on a sunday morning and the murders of crows crossing the sky or the various birds bathing. or the lack of seaweed mom had promised more, or the breeze and now wet sticking sand, or the delicious jalepeno/cilantro/feta scramble i enjoyed as i hung my head and squeezed my aching eyes, fingering the orange pills on my lap.
i did not wash it all down with a frapachino and promises to pay mom back for the outlet shirts and underwear i bought or the in/out fries... or the week it took to unpack or the dismal check i got from edd- making certain of my deadweight burdened and financially tapped self. but anyhow where ever i was it was somewhere and the place i imagined was glorious, with the soft sounds of trains in the distance, the jutting mountains at my back and the pounding ocean to my west. mom assured me it was a good time. i will have to trust her judgment.
m.
this is the west range. . . 
