29 Nov
Stopped in a small town and wrote away. Near Oxnard or Santa Barbara. I was still sick from the ailing remnants of the previous day's illustrious escapades. I needed some redemption. It came, slowly, but it came.
Driving back, as the sinking sun made way for the moon's grandeur, it's fullness reflecting on the water, there was a quiet silence as the para-surfers retreated and the wind bellowed. One rarely finds themselves at the right place at the right time. somehow i had arrived there. for a few minutes. it was a Lou Reed lyric personifying itself. time bent, just for me, it bent and sang.
