L.A.

LOS ANGELES IS LIVING UNDER THE DUST OF BROKEN DREAMS.

art of migration

make writing a bigger part of your life.

keep exploring and taking chances on things.

be more aware of these new opportunities.

cook more at home.

stay positive.

make conscious efforts.

DO MORE GOOD.

art. art. art. art. art.

save some coin.

surf.

her

she wears me down

moonlight. sea. dream.

watching the moon hang over the sea. dark midnight blue. dusty ocean mist. warm. watching the moon hang over the sea.

same, same, different, same, different...

it's all pretty much the same here. same traffic. same kinda girls. same kinda guys. same kinda blown out windy surf. same burritos. same bums. same kinda rich folks. same kinda overcast. same kinda sunsets and pretty much same california. but i must say these eyes are less likely to judge these days and more likely to accept. i might not feel as if i relate to all the madness down here but i do believe in my own little world down here, i'm learning to create my own new beginnings one single instant at a time. and when the evening comes and that sun dips into the sea, with my eyes blazing westward, my body and soul bobbing in the great pacific, waiting for large ripples of water to carry me shore-bound like a drifting pelican across the water. i end my day with near perfection. it's all pretty much the same here. but this time all is well in my world.

living in the wind

homeless. humbled. honored. happy.

lost again. lost again. lost again.

it's been pretty heavy out here these days.