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Kelly and I visited the Tijuana Estuary in Imperial Beach. Mellow and sublime.
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T-Street. Met a fellow handplaning bodysurfer this morning. So blessed. Whatever that word means to you. It’s good though.
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WILTERN / HARRISON / BELEW (remain-in-light)
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“Bro I *know* you’re cold!” says the shaggy blonde surfer to me. “That’s right!” I reply, surprised. Chance of wetsuit next sesh.
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Expatriate kid. Manila. My grandma had sewn that shirt. She let me pick the fabric. A red and white gingham from a fabric store on Balboa Avenue.
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Costuming. High school. From stylish devil (Red sweat pants, horns removed from a cap I had, red sport coat I got at a thrift store in Pacific Beach); to Hare Krishna (I bought that orange fabric myself and the same fabric is now one side of the quilt on my bed; bald cap; and the blonde hair belonging to my aunt, said hair was removed when her head was shaved of her blonde hair to treat her surfing injury; plus of course carnations and a walking stick). I would not wear the Krishna costume now, far too insensitive; but I was earnest at the time about playing the role. Also at the time i knew at least one or two guys I knew in HS would have meals at the Krishna center in PB and only said kind things about the adherents. 1980s. Yes, a new photo scanning job came back.
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