Day 1b

Ahh, the landmark boobs. I've saw these things many times while commuting to San Diego with my ex and her daughter. Tijuana brought back plenty memories, the good times mostly. I'm not an astological kind of guy, but it was a house of three scorpios. Just sayin... Lot's of drama, basically a tar baby.

Wet toes, soaked cuffs. As I write this in a Starbucks ($4 for wifi, dejected pirate "Arrr") my cuffs are cold and wet. I do not fear for my ankles to getting the flu, but should probably change them away.

Laguna Beach. There were dozens of wake boarders. 12 year olds to a couple mid thirties scruffy guys in lazy goatee and all watching the waves with perfect relaxed zen lasers beaming fiercly from their 6th chakras. I wandered through the wave beach interface up past a few clusters of photographers and shiny white families all dressed in white. Walked up to a rocky area with tide pools and didn't trust my feet to the sharp and slippery. The people are familar, not as individuals but the spread of the phenome. I fear I shall always ache for the true multiculture stew of the megalopolis London. The guy sitting next to me at the starbucks has a russian accent and that makes me happy.

Crystal Cove and the sun is setting. 2 hours and two blog posts in the previously mentioned bucks of stars. Upper class and white, I gotta keep going. Going to head up to Mom, Step Dad, Sisters in Altadina tonight. More friends tomorrow and then outta this crazy place. I am not looking forward to the thick rush hour craptastic traffic.

Laguna Beach, United States