Friday, November 16, 2007

Dead Again

I was driving home from the airport today along Pacific Coast Highway, watching as the winter sun cast an orange glow on the water, beach and mountains of good old L.A. -- white contrails snaking off toward the North — and iPod playing the soundtrack: Coldplay and Matisyahu and Patty Griffin.

And then the Grateful Dead’s “He’s Gone” from Europe ‘72 came on and the scene was perfect.

And the it brought me back 24 years, to Ventura California — the Ventura County Fairgrounds to be exact, and a guy named Marc Hirschfield, the son of a hollywood businessman. Marc loved the Dead as much as I did, and he walked amonst the tripping and hippie Deadheads who milled like stoned sheep kicking up dust. It may have been 1983, but I think that’s the closest I got to the 60’s.

I googled Hirschfield recently. Found out that he moved to Wyoming. It seems pretty perfect for him, as was the memory.

Monday, November 12, 2007

On Approach to Bermuda

Passing over storm fronts and blue, blue ocean, listening to Bright Eyes' "At The Bottom of Everything."

Now that's fun....