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Confidence and determination, which I have been desperately trying to collect little by little these last two months (because in my heart and gut I somehow felt that it was time), have finally formed the solid foundation under my imaginary legs, I can finally step up and leave

For a bunch of people, it all probably matters a lot, the goal, the meaning, the sense, the aim; it never really did to me, which had kept me staggering for quite a while, not to say my whole life. But then again half of my life I had lived almost unconsciously, on inertia, which is something I canapos;t really forgive myself for, those usually few seconds of regret, amazement and shame, before I realize that it wasnapos;t really me at the time, and The Past doesnapos;t have a lot to do with The Present in this case, Todayapos;s Me is not Tomorrowapos;s Me, and I am not really Yesterdayapos;s Me.
Anyway, I donapos;t have a Goal, but I sure have the Path, which, I have finally come to realize, is more than enough for me. The path and the process are far more interesting than the possible outcome Iapos;d end up with if I concentrated on the Prize. Iapos;m really glad I figured this whole thing out for myself

My desires and wishes, stay hazy and changing as they have always been, they never really had my full attention, which is good and bad at the same time, for I know that one must live his life based only on his wishes; no time for rules, laws, ethics, duties, and such. But I must be more attentive to them from now on, because..

Something will have to work out.

Goodbye, halcyon days
Hello, darkness

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L.A., for those of us who grew up far from it, far from California, is surreal. Hyper-real, maybe. Its sprawling ugliness�is the template for every suburban outdoor shopping mall in the nation, its empty downtown the model for every failed Main Street. Its streets and hills and mansions and slums have been imprinted on all our minds from decades of Hollywoodapos;s infatuation with itself.

I found it boring. It felt too much like Indiana, like Nebraska, like Ohio, like Missouri. It is a giant, dying cliche that has failed to reinvent itself.

I did enjoy seeing Kermit the Frogapos;s star on the Walk of Fame, and the tiny prints of Mary Pickfordapos;s feet outside the Chinese Theatre. I found several tiny mechanical monkeys in a toy store on the Third Street Promenade. Banana? I could feel the self-importance of the guests clogging the air vents of the hotel but enjoyed staying within view of a giant billboard for Bette Midlerapos;s Vegas show.

Mulholland Drive and Laurel Canyon Road made me sad for all the middle and low-upper class people in the world who are incapable of enjoying what they have because they are too busy comparing their lives to the uber-rich. Meanwhile, the uber-rich have a view of smog and�long ago�ran out of interesting drugs to try. Itapos;s all so empty. Iapos;m beginning to romanticize the poor. (Just in time for the economic pit we have fallen into, yeah?)

The Getty was an oasis of beauty, order, and culture in an otherwise�overstimulating-with-annoyances place. The design of the grounds and buildings was so perfect it recalled to me my first religious experience as an adult; namely, standing inside Frank Lloyd Wrightapos;s Taliesin, feeling the amazing physical and mental calm that comes from�manmade beauty--more interesting than natureapos;s beauty because the mind is engaged in figuring out how another human mind was able to access the divine resource and build�perfection.

As for Superdate, heapos;s wonderful. Generous, loving, sweet, kind, romantic...and as always that makes me feel like running away and never looking back.
�

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