Archive for November, 2006

Moving experiences

Monday, November 27th, 2006

…info about the music

Something with a sonic vista, from a little film I scored over a decade ago.

My life is a-flutter with about a zillion (round number) preparations that are involved in moving people, cats, and assorted physical stuff a thousand miles north. This exercise is not for the faint of heart. But it’s great fun. Just to keep things interesting, we’re juggling multiple escrows at once: sailboat and slip in Santa Barbara, sailboat up north. Malibu house, island house. Not to mention movers, inspectors, RV and house rentals… I’ve organized countless large-scale events over the years without batting an eye, but I admit that this move is making my brain ache.

So what to do for an aching brain? Well, my answer is to either play music or play in the sand. There’ll be plenty of opportunity this coming year for me to share the beauty of the San Juan Islands on this blog, so I’ll refrain from posting too many recent photos from up there for the time being. Instead, here’s a great place to play in the sand, just north of Malibu’s city limits: the Great Dune. Not too long ago, Charles and I decided to climb the damn thing, and for all our huffing and puffing we were greeted at the top by a gorgeous expanse of ocean and coastline.

Moving, in whatever form, offers great rewards.

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Thursday, November 23rd, 2006

…info about the music

The Prelude from my “Evensong Suite,” in a gesture of thanks.

This gull has much to be thankful for, since Americans chose a different, if equally common, iconic gourmet avian for the annual holiday. As a pescaterian (vegetarian, but regrettably for the finned ones, fish are still involved), birds are safe around me no matter what the occasion.

T-Day was spent in quiet beauty on the sand at our cozy Paradise Cove Beach Cafe, with the waves pulling out to a revealing low tide. This fellow, among about 50 of his closest personal friends, loomed on the umbrella above our heads hoping we’d turn away from our plates just long enough for a sneak attack dive bomb. No such luck here; we know the game too well. Surprised shrieks from new visitors at nearby tables, however, raised his hopes for snagging a calamari or two.

Welcome to Thanksgiving in Malibu.

There’s a fantastically long list of realities in my life for which I’m thankful. I’m keenly aware that the list can become shorter in an instant. Cherish everything, now.

I have cherished this place for many years and it’s been a privilege to be able to live here. It’s an amazing and rare thing to be able to choose to leave one paradise, in order to live in yet another. Perhaps one or two percent of the residents of this planet can say that their lives are filled with utter happiness. I give thanks, constantly. This is my favorite holiday.

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Guilty with an explanation

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006

…info about the music

The title of this movement says it all: “Act.”

A week and a half without a blog posting? How irresponsible of me. But life is not quite normal right now, and in a newly chaotic swirl of changing seas, a few strands of kelp passed by without a report. They float along just the same, regardless of my musings. I float along less enriched without them.

The news: I’m moving to new kelp, in different waters. In less than three weeks.

Charles and I decided months ago that despite our great love for the immediate environments in which we live, Malibu and Santa Barbara, our temperments were no longer suited for life in the larger world of southern California. There are a myriad of reasons why, but to avoid a pedantic, whining tirade I’ll be brief and simply say that the area has reached yet another tipping point. Too many people in too small a space with too few resources. Sociologically, this does not always bring out the best in people. If one more driver honks at me while I wait for a pedestrian to cross the street rather than mow them down in the crosswalk, I will get out of my car and scream. Or worse. There are healthier ways to live. And we’re choosing one of them.

This, above, is the ride I’ll be trading for Los Angeles’ congested streets and freeways: The Washington State Ferry, headed back to the mainland yesterday, as Charles and I returned from what will be our new home on San Juan Island. It was exceedingly windy and exhilarating. And whether one sits snugly inside with a book or laptop, or braces against the gusts in awe of the view, there is a general sense of peace and calmness that floats like kelp among the people here. I already feel like I’m home.


Sunday, November 12th, 2006

…info about the music

This weekend would have been my father’s 78th birthday. I miss him more as each year passes. As chronology fills my life with increasing happiness, music rises and moons orbit that I would have loved to have shared with him.

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever, it seems.

––––Arthur O’Shaughnessy; the initial lines of the “Ode” from his 1874 book, “Music and Moonlight.”


Thursday, November 9th, 2006

…info about the music

“Nunc Dimittis” is a movement from my “Evensong Suite,” and the term literally translates to, “now you are sending away.” Fitting for the fleeting light that creates space for the moon’s lovely glow.

A November twilight for you from southern California. I don’t need to write anything more today.

Living on the edge

Tuesday, November 7th, 2006

…info about the music

“Unhinged,” for a scene which is that and more.

It’s impossible for the drama of this scene to translate to you in a 400-pixel wide snapshot. So just imagine: a 90-foot high bluff, chunks of which the size of a drive-thru Dairy Queen recently fell thundering to the sand (was anyone standing there at the time? Ooh, listen carefully for muffled screams…). Those huge, crumpled boulders used to be the polite back yard of the once-comfortable home now perched at the extreme edge, its broken plumbing and irrigation dangling sadly in the breeze for all to see.

The indignity of over-exposure. Something once beautiful now cruelly stripped, bared and vulnerable. Perhaps the house belongs to a celebrity who’s all too used to experiencing such insults. I’ve kept tabs on this particular theater of entropy over many walks, but there was something different today; as with many sudden demolitions, one can’t quite recall what had been there just a week before. And I am again reminded of the impermanence of so much I attempt to grasp. The concept of absolute possession, both beauty and material, is utter illusion.10p text ringtonesnokia 2260 free ringtone logocomposer free 3315 ringtone nokiaringtone online 3410 free nokia composerringtone 6010 voice nokiafree 6100 ringtone vx lgringtones thousand miles aallowed girl ringtone Mapa ha ringtonescountry ringtones 0free motorola ringtones 100ringtone 18 wallpaper2 ringtones step100 mobile virgin ringtone freeringtone down door 3ringtone cent 50 site Mapswinger homemade moviesmovie cake layernude celebs moviesmovie privatemovies online xxxblockbuster rental moviemovies daily sapphicdildo sex movies free Map

Objects are closer than they a pier

Friday, November 3rd, 2006

…info about the music

“Rip,” from “Current Events,” for the events of these currents.

Paradise Cove’s pier is an icon of its history. Over decades of fishing boats, strolling lovers, angry storms, determined rebuilds and fat seagulls, it’s remained a landmark for this latitude of coastline. It used to be about twice as long, until nature decided otherwise one dramatic winter back in the early 80’s.

For years I’ve stepped lightly across these planks as I did today. One’s nose is immediately greeted with that distinctive Eau de Pier scent: moldy-salty-smoky creosote marinated in the collective sun-baked guano of sea birds… no wonder hot dates can’t keep their hands off each other when they get here. My oddest pier-specific memory is of one New Years Day walking with a few friends. Upon reaching the tip, a girlfriend who worked at Paramount Studios suddenly removed her left sneaker and flung it far out to the sea. When quizzed on this, she replied, “tradition!”. Perhaps she wasn’t the first in her family to be in shoe business.

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