Another artist I found while in Ojai
Storypeople by Brian Andreas (www.storypeople.com)
“When I first met him, I knew in a moment I would have to spend the next few days re-arranging my mind so there’d be room for him to stay.”
So sweet!! Leaves me fuzzy..
My first time in Ojai and it’s becoming one of my favorite places. It’s a quaint little valley town 1.5 hours northwest of LA. It’s supposedly another “energy vortex” center like Sedona (Arizona).
Lots of biking, being in nature, taking naps, browsing thrift stores, lounging around the house and swimming… such perfect days!
Bart’s Books – outdoor bookstore!
the Krishnamurti Library – the house he lived in
amazing stone ring I found
“A woman is a beast. She is as lovely as she is repulsive. She is one part demon and one part goddess, one part slave and one part muse, one part child and one part mother. These contradictions are what make a woman so intoxicating.” -Unknown
Still am working on first draft of novel but conceived a new idea for another book.. will be sultry and full of erotic drawings.. Lewd. That’s a fun word.
Hmm.. I’m curious to know what you think is the sexiest part of a woman. The dive at the waist, a little peek of the wet inner mouth, the way her hair curls around her ear… ?
The key to the house. I love keys like this! I wish all of mine were like this.
- Mallorca, Spain; 18:30
Went to the beach today and realized something… in amidst to my love affair of the beaches in South America, having been to a few beaches in Europe now, I much prefer the latter… people leave you alone more or less. In most of South America, you’re lucky if you can walk in silence for two minutes (the annoying Ssss, ssss, I do not miss).
Catching up on my reading and have finished Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go which is a definite must-read. The story gave me a strange, heavy feeling; full and empty at the same time. It’s really good. Started John Steinbeck’s To A God Unknown and am hooked already. The way he writes is so… swift. I never get bored or start drifting off the page (I experience this habitually with other books and have to force myself to stay on the page) as he just carries the story so well. I read the Introduction in the beginning and found it interesting. This book was the hardest he had labored and took him 5 years to write. I can’t imagine writing 5 days a week (which is what he did) for 5 years and receiving one rejection after another; he had to rewrite the book many times. He never considered himself one of the greats. I suppose all writers experience insecurity and fury, no matter how good they are..
The laboring is what makes one great, I guess. But then, that scares me.
- London, 22:00
on the look out for some inspiration..
Solitude seems to be a misjudged notion, at times a concept misinterpreted, ignored, shunned. I get in spaces which demand me of my own silence and revery (more frequently than others, it seems — though possibly a faulty assumption). Surrounded by too much “stuff” — people, events, noises, time — my mind becomes weary and I resort inwards like a doughy hermit to its shell. It doesn’t take one long to deem, Introvert, Introvert; the green and yellow bulbs flashing and flickering away.
I used to, in my younger years, think it was a characteristic of the “odd,” the loners, the strange ones but only in result of the satisfaction of others (it takes awhile to get to the point where you can give one big “Fuck it” to what others think, doesn’t it?). Even to this day, I get curious comments such as “Why are you traveling by yourself?” “A girl like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone.” Obviously they mean no harm or judgement, though I still wonder why this is.
I relish the time I do have alone — it is the only time I have to center myself, to feel the warmth of the universe in my own veins, to remember such things I couldn’t otherwise. And I am fortunate to have people around me who understand, who give me those silent parenthesis of infinity. So, now I am reminded to center myself when I can and solemnly breathe in.. out.. in.. out..
Not all those who wander are lost. –JRR Tolkien
My napkin turned into a monk.
We live on the edge of life
We don’t even compromise
We rush because we’re out of time
Forgive us for what we have done
Cause we’re young
I make mistakes that I learn from
Don’t worry ’bout what I’ll become
It’s just fun, it’s just fun
I scream at the top of my lungs
It’s just fun, it’s just fun
[Tulisa - Young]
“All the pathos and irony of leaving one’s youth behind is thus implicit in every joyous moment of travel: one knows that the first joy can never be recovered, and the wise traveler learns not to repeat successes but tries new places all the time.” –Paul Fussell