I've chosen tonight to experiment with wines from elsewhere in the region, mostly from base ignorance of geography. I'm always afraid we'll have some European, probably British, visitors that will arrive on holiday and know this region and its charms far better than I, and better than most.
Being on this last frontier, this illogical erection of the western empire, almost makes me want to challenge somebody to a duel, but all of the Hamilton's and Burr's are long gone, first one, then the other.
"I'm in a duel to the death with this newspaper.... and one of us hast to hemp."
You can't blame them, really, the Brits, they did try to claim this land as their own. Were it not for the courageous Lewis and Clark expedition the "American" pacific coastline might look very different. Well, it would look just the same from England's space program, though I guess it might not look the same to "us"....
What an incredible stroke of fortitude that landed us here, and the Canadians up there. I've listened for too much of my life to filthy stinkin' after-party Canucks bitching about the weakness of the Canadian dollar in relation to the good 'ol U.S. BUCK... about them having to buy things... then there was a smug smidgen of years when their "dollar" was valued higher.... Ha!
Now all we hear are silent and desperate prayers, the prayers of repentant drunks and reformed pornographers, transmitted publicly through NORAD communications, not northwards to any strange Nunavut wife-sharing gods and natives, but way down south, all the way to Congress, where the only brides getting shared are the congregation and the church of christ.
Christ, almighty, my wife went to church yesterday..... She's pregnant.
What does an atheist say to this? I gently chuckle at your connection to the universe inside your belly...
Nope.
Mike Myers, where are you when your nation needs you the most...?
Neil Young, after the gold rust....
I think Sonoma is a well-planned rural speed trap.
I don't mean cops with radar guns. I mean speed, and traps.
I'm feeling a little bit obscure today, perhaps I'm a hipster without a home.
There are no authentic hips in Marin, there exists within there something far worse, a breed of peoplesters who think that the mutually tired and impotent music they listen to is perhaps what the hipsters are listening to elsewhere, or should be.
It's as if they're too out of touch to be hipsters and too stupid to cure themselves of the desire to be so...
It is fun for a while, to witness... being a witness is always fun, until you're summoned.
Wouldn't a savvy team of witnesses be the perfect antidote to hipsterism?
For you, all my love's unseen:
Moving like the fog on the Petaluma River....
Let it Ride....
(Please listen to this link if you've ever felt, or suede,
or even wished us away with us, for a ride, or suadade)
"I wanna see you tonight
Dancing in the endless moonlight
In the parking lot in the headlights of cars
Someplace on the moon
Where they moved the drive-in theater
Where I left the car that I can't find but I still got the keys to
Let it ride…."
-Ryam Adams, Let It Ride
(Firefly Ridge, mox in, ex post facto)
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