a diner. lulu’s café. unknown redding locale. 730am. oh yes, I’m the only one in the diner. dark purple leather bound boothes. and, yes, the ‘older’ waitress is talking my ear off about this and that. even though I’m a bit bleary-eyed, the glinting-windowed sun and the shitty diner coffee are making it all perfect in the only way that it can be. oh yeah, and I’m having greasy-good corned-beef hash and eggs. yum.
how funny families are. with their twists and turns and dark corner pockets.
I call my cousin denise up three weeks ago, who I haven’t seen in ten years, and ask her if I can crash at her place for the night on my way up north. we exchange pleasantries for a minute. realizing our lives are nothing alike, the silence is nice but awkward. she says, ‘I have two kids now’. I knew this, but with both of us at 25, it’s strange.
yet, the ‘family factor’, warmed us up from the get go, and we talked like old friends. who live different lives. who’ve never known each other as adults. (but you get the idea). the boys are three and one. a handful. their dad’s in prison, and his brother, who was helping, is now also in prison. let’s just say that they really discriminate against the Indians up here in norcal (that’s feather, not dot.)
so, I fell into stride, believe it or not, playing mr mom/cousin/babysitter. she doesn’t cook (what?), so I suggested we go to the store and get some grub. flash-forward. I’m holding the little one in my left arm, keeping the fridge closed with my foot, so the older one won’t the candy bar that’s inside, and frying up chicken and corn in a skillet in my right. I think I laughed out loud.
we tipped back a few brews and talked family. how strange it is, how it binds us together but how lucky we are to have it. whether it’s for a last minute baby sitter, or just for someone who somehow feels closer than a friend.
next stop, Oregon. I kinda wish I was riding a horse…
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
oh, Lagunitas...
i am unable to come back to my childhood stomping ground without seeing one of my beloved friends from childhood, Galen Woodruff. anybody that has spent more than ten minutes with me has probably heard a story about Galen, and the crazy situations we've gotten ourselves into over the years. The log ride down the swollen river, constructing and flying our own hang glider, stealing and sailing boats. (ahh the memories!)
in late '05 he bought a house (and by house, i mean shack that was covered in garbage and a bane to the neighbors and county) in the woodsy and magical Lagunitas. Only Galen could go from living in a garage/shack (where he also built his guitars) that was situated 10ft from the cliff in Bolinas, overlooking the ocean and edge of our fair continent, to living in a hundred year old house overhanging a creek/river in the redwoods of NorCal.
i think that God has kept us spirit connnected through all these years, and every time i retreat to Lagunitas to 'recharge', i thank God for this friendship.
i was napping yesterday afternoon, yet finding no peace. i awoke from troubling dream with a weary spirit. i jumped in the car and headed out the backroads to go see him. the sun. the roling brown grass hills. the way the redwoods obscure the sun, the light and shadows dancing on my windshield as i pass under their majestic branches.
i arrived to a bear hug from my old friend. as i sat on his cabin porch (this is the little cabin that he built in 3 weeks that he lives in while he's rebuilding his beautiful house, and it's gorgeous), and sipped some exotic beer, with the familiar sound of the creek babbling not more than a couple feet down the embankment. The warm sun and the damp air makes it all so dream like. I look around and see the latrene that we built, the stairs that I built, and the nearly-done wood floor in the main house that I helped put in. it's so good to feel like you've contributed to somthing that is solid. we've had so many laughs (and beers) as we worked in the times (sadly few and far between) when I'm 'up north'.
we ate BBQed ribs and made a fire. as the darkness fell, his girlfriend and I prompted him to break out his guitar (that he built) and play for us. how right it felt for the music to rise up amongst the trees. we sat and he played. and the world felt right for a few minutes.
i left late last night, as i always eventually do, for some unknown adventure. whether on to SB or the open road, i know that I can always go back and find some notes of peace.
Lord, never let me stray too far that i cannot return to Lagunitas.
in late '05 he bought a house (and by house, i mean shack that was covered in garbage and a bane to the neighbors and county) in the woodsy and magical Lagunitas. Only Galen could go from living in a garage/shack (where he also built his guitars) that was situated 10ft from the cliff in Bolinas, overlooking the ocean and edge of our fair continent, to living in a hundred year old house overhanging a creek/river in the redwoods of NorCal.
i think that God has kept us spirit connnected through all these years, and every time i retreat to Lagunitas to 'recharge', i thank God for this friendship.
i was napping yesterday afternoon, yet finding no peace. i awoke from troubling dream with a weary spirit. i jumped in the car and headed out the backroads to go see him. the sun. the roling brown grass hills. the way the redwoods obscure the sun, the light and shadows dancing on my windshield as i pass under their majestic branches.
i arrived to a bear hug from my old friend. as i sat on his cabin porch (this is the little cabin that he built in 3 weeks that he lives in while he's rebuilding his beautiful house, and it's gorgeous), and sipped some exotic beer, with the familiar sound of the creek babbling not more than a couple feet down the embankment. The warm sun and the damp air makes it all so dream like. I look around and see the latrene that we built, the stairs that I built, and the nearly-done wood floor in the main house that I helped put in. it's so good to feel like you've contributed to somthing that is solid. we've had so many laughs (and beers) as we worked in the times (sadly few and far between) when I'm 'up north'.
we ate BBQed ribs and made a fire. as the darkness fell, his girlfriend and I prompted him to break out his guitar (that he built) and play for us. how right it felt for the music to rise up amongst the trees. we sat and he played. and the world felt right for a few minutes.
i left late last night, as i always eventually do, for some unknown adventure. whether on to SB or the open road, i know that I can always go back and find some notes of peace.
Lord, never let me stray too far that i cannot return to Lagunitas.
Monday, May 28, 2007
and so we begin, again...
it took me till 2007 to get on board with this blogging thing. we'll see how long it lasts.
i left today. left my life in sunny (actually, gloomy) Santa Barbara. feel like i've done this before. got a different car this time. (moment of silence for my beloved White Car)
been telling everyone for a year that, hell or high water, I was going back on the road. been counting down the days. hell, there hasn't been a single day that has gone by that I have not thought about Montana, Red Feather, and being 'on the road'. and in a flash, here I am. I gotta say i'm still a bit disoriented. worked myself dizzy these last three weeks trying to make some last dough so i could justify this trip in my head. feel like i left in such a hurry. i swear, no matter how many lists i make and subsequently cross off, i never feel prepared. but maybe that un-prepared feeling is the point. too much control and we lose that 'real life' aspect.
i arrived at my parents this eve. will be here for a couple of days gathering self and relaxing the tightly wound spirit. don't think i feel like i'm quite on the actual road trip yet. i think it's because i've driven that damn stretch of the 101 so many times that it's actually familiar or commonplace or something. i think when i hit the open road north of here, heading into the California high country, i'll start to 'feel more at home'. cause i say, damn, nothing calms me down more than a drive. a simple arm-out-the-window/wind-in-the-face/vast-freedom-ahead kinda thing.
third in three years. i'm wondering how many more of these i'm going to need to take to calm this wanderlust. maybe next year, just one more: Alaska.
i'm sick. i haven't even really started this trip and i'm already planning the next one. and i never think that far ahead. i guess with the exception of these trips. i guess i'm always thinking about the next one. and...i just realized, that's how i survive in SB. not job to job. not show to show. but from one trip to another. is that wrong. one of these days i'm going to have to sit down (or take a drive) and figure out something else besides road trips to define my life with.
maybe later. or maybe in the woods.
i love this blog thing. i can think outloud and have a bit of a creative outlet. whoever thought of these things...
stay tuned for the further adventures of Michael Conrad II
i left today. left my life in sunny (actually, gloomy) Santa Barbara. feel like i've done this before. got a different car this time. (moment of silence for my beloved White Car)
been telling everyone for a year that, hell or high water, I was going back on the road. been counting down the days. hell, there hasn't been a single day that has gone by that I have not thought about Montana, Red Feather, and being 'on the road'. and in a flash, here I am. I gotta say i'm still a bit disoriented. worked myself dizzy these last three weeks trying to make some last dough so i could justify this trip in my head. feel like i left in such a hurry. i swear, no matter how many lists i make and subsequently cross off, i never feel prepared. but maybe that un-prepared feeling is the point. too much control and we lose that 'real life' aspect.
i arrived at my parents this eve. will be here for a couple of days gathering self and relaxing the tightly wound spirit. don't think i feel like i'm quite on the actual road trip yet. i think it's because i've driven that damn stretch of the 101 so many times that it's actually familiar or commonplace or something. i think when i hit the open road north of here, heading into the California high country, i'll start to 'feel more at home'. cause i say, damn, nothing calms me down more than a drive. a simple arm-out-the-window/wind-in-the-face/vast-freedom-ahead kinda thing.
third in three years. i'm wondering how many more of these i'm going to need to take to calm this wanderlust. maybe next year, just one more: Alaska.
i'm sick. i haven't even really started this trip and i'm already planning the next one. and i never think that far ahead. i guess with the exception of these trips. i guess i'm always thinking about the next one. and...i just realized, that's how i survive in SB. not job to job. not show to show. but from one trip to another. is that wrong. one of these days i'm going to have to sit down (or take a drive) and figure out something else besides road trips to define my life with.
maybe later. or maybe in the woods.
i love this blog thing. i can think outloud and have a bit of a creative outlet. whoever thought of these things...
stay tuned for the further adventures of Michael Conrad II
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