Some sad singers
They just play tragic” —Lover I Don’t Have To Love (via fuckyeahbrighteyes)
this week hates me.
About to go to a job interview for this bakery/cafe. I just really need another job because the one I have is deciding to replace me. Cool. Yeah I’m pissed because it depends on my grade for work experience. Wish me luck!
I swear every day this week something shitty happens to me. This week/month has been horrible.
As you head north up the coast toward Leucadia, slummy mellow Pacific Beach and its rundown breakfast restaurants and health food stores becomes La Jolla which has clean, well-maintained streets and new age cliff-side art galleries full of neon whales with mystical light and color erupting from them. Somewhere near the border of Pacific Beach and La Jolla is the P.B. Point, a rocky peninsula jutting out of a shallow sandstone cliff-lined cove with houses perched its edge. To get down to the Point you take a cement staircase, which runs in staggered flights along the cliff, graffitied and piss-stained and unprotected from the sea. The Point is where burnt-out surfers, adrift without their childhood, smoke weed and sit on the rocks and watch the swell. It’s where kids in high school go to lay Mexican blankets on the bigger, flatter rocks and make out or drink 40s. Every few years someone finds a body face down in the kelp and tide-pools, white and bloated and chewed on by fish. Sometimes it’s an overdose. Sometimes just a mystery.
Aaron came to the Point at night when he needed black sky and roaring surf to drown out his thoughts. At midnight he would park his Jeep in the neighborhood, take the stairs, and find a spot on the rocks to sit and think and be away from his life.
On clear nights he could see the lights of Crystal Pier and, further south, Point Loma twinkling against inky black nothing.
On the last night in October he came to the Point because he couldn’t stop thinking about Lauren, about what she and her boyfriend were doing. He had ideas; his mind ran wild with them until he couldn’t think straight, so he sat on the rocks and listened to the white noise of the sea and the wind and watched the waves under the moonlight, their crests glowing supernatural-white as they broke against the black rocks and water.
There, he told his troubles to the sea and asked for absolution for Lauren and mercy for himself and balance for Tyler.
For Lauren’s boyfriend, he asked for nothing.
He closed his eyes and sat cross-legged on the rocks and prayed to the sea for help, for a lifesaver tossed from the ship’s bow.
Growing up on the coast Aaron learned a kind of paganistic respect for the ocean. Life flows from the sea in a slow-building evolutionary bleed and it takes life in sudden hacking, cleaving jolts. Living on the coast you see the tides change and you see the beaches lose their shape and then come back together again. The sand is washed off and carried away during the high tides and big north swells in January and brought back during the warmer placid months of summer. Cliffs erode and fossils appear, half concealed in sandy rock, a message from 10,000 years past. A push and pull. The conversation of history and the slow convulsions of movement and time.
Aaron offered up his concerns and listened hard for answers back, and in the blackness he heard nothing.
You see Ive been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
cause there aint no one for to give you no pain
After nine days I let the horse run free
cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with its life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love
Not a really great day today. I got lost and drove around for an hour and a half. Then later at work I was told that I am not going to be scheduled for a while since they are cutting back, so that means I need to find a new job like tomorrow because I don’t want to fail work experience. We need at least ten hours a week and one hundred eighty per semester. Going job hunting tomorrow. It’s that, or drop the class.
This weekend was so busy I just want to sleep for the next week.
I changed my url last night if you noticed. I’ve had meggles ever since I made this tumblr, but I decided I needed a change. I got the idea from watching the movie I talked about yesterday, Koyaanisquatsi. It means crazy life or life out of balance.