Hollywood Surrealism

There's something quite surreal about biking through Hollywood, late on a Wednesday night...or rather early on a Thursday morning after a few glasses of wine at THE Dinner Party. It's early February, so the air is crisp and refreshing...a nice antidote to divergent conversation and entwining music making with friends who know how to knit together melodies and harmonies that makes your head whirl...

Of course the ride is not in anyway a basis for reality....a random man in a cowboy hat, strolling and strumming the guitar in front of the all night pharmacy (chemist)...pockets of party kids leaving the clubs punctuate the night, but mostly a quietness so often absent and a feeling of anticipation or possibilities arises... 

I sense a state of being that feels like how I was ten years ago, in Ireland, wandering home through urban landscapes, feeling and knowing anything was possible...and while the feeling is still there, some of the potential is lost, would I really take hold of an adventurous night time story, follow a line and lose the plot or would my ten-years-older head keep me from following the lead of possibility...? Reality sets in when I turn up the hill on Beachwood. I miss the wild recklessness of ago, but think that life may have devoured or compressed it out of existence...maybe I will surprise myself yet, and lose the plot only to find another...