Between official appointments, we ate seafood at a restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean near Topanga Canyon, which sounds exotic to a cheesehead, except that the sea was whipped with wind and rain on this day, and we could have been in Duluth when Lake Superior was grumpy.
We used to take shelter from the rain at the Getty Villa Museum, where a quick overview of Greco-Roman funerals confirmed that no matter how ostentatious we did, we were engaged forever, and we would do the right thing if we took ourselves and everything in our power. assertive statements are less serious because one way or another it will all end up with dirt, dust, or knickknacks in the gift shop.
On our one sunny day, we walked and looked at the Santa Monica waterfront and Venice Beach. The glory and madness of the human cavalcade is an elixir for a solitary loner like me, shaking his little snow globe and making me look at the world through unfamiliar fractals.
I include the darker things we’ve seen. But walking through it, rather than flipping through it, has a meaning in this world.
I like to poke fun at the townspeople, but I stopped laughing at them a long time ago, mainly because in the midst of a diverse scene, you remember how harsh and anxious I can anticipate something that I have never met. Or fought with.
I hope I also learned that sometimes when you are a tourist you should act like a tourist, so on the last sunny evening we borrowed camping chairs and walked on the tarmac until we got to the beach, settled down with a book apiece and decided to embrace the Santa Monica sea breeze and the sunset, only for our resolve to fade in the teeth of that breeze that did not match the sight, and so we walked around again, watching the sun move out of sight.