California Tipping in the Ocean

There is nothing like the sea. Bodysurfing off the coast of Ventura on Wednesday evening, the ocean carrying me from surf to shore, was truly a treat for body and soul. The Pacific and her awesome vastness will never cease to amaze me, whether I encounter her in Oregon, San Diego or Baja California. When I walk on those shores and look out at the endlessness … oh, mother. I fancy myself a mermaid in a previous existence. Fish to water, or something to that effect. Of course, the allergies are back upon landing in New Orleans.

Coastal California. My eyes wander into the distance and I can only think of Thomas Dolby’s Screen Kiss:

Miller time at the bar where all the English meet
She used to drink in the hills,
only now she drinks in the valley.
Where every road has a name like Beachwood Avenue or so it seems,
a Croydon girl could really hope to find a home.
With a thousand miles of real estate to choose from,
you begin to see the value of your freedom.

The moon is bright in the haze above old Hollywood
and deer look down from the hills
And it’s three o’clock in the morning
Pill in hand you can hear his golden surfer voice
crying out, mummy won’t come out of the bathroom
And you’d hoped he’d say he’s sorry if he hit you
but he’s buried in the screenplay of his feature

Screen kiss, one screen kiss
Straight from a film I forget who was in
Screen kiss, one screen kiss
Blue filter lens, a pool of vaseline

But all the rushes look the same
Only there’s a movie I wouldn’t pay to see again
if it’s the one with him in

You and I could be a mile above the earth tremors
Hold to me and we’ll climb
You could sneak out while he’s sleeping
Suicide in the hills above old Hollywood
is never gonna change the world.
Change the world overnight
Any more than the invention of the six-gun, child
Any more than the discovery of Radium,
or California tipping in the ocean