The World Is a Piece of Fruit, You Are a Seed. Let’s Have a Picnic.

I was going to start off with a snappy line about how not much has changed since I last posted when I looked around and realized, holy shit… it’s a whole different world now.

It’s been about a week.

Google Street View has finally put entire cities into a little box.

Scooter Libby is going to jail for a couple of years.

And the Cleveland Cavaliers are in the Finals!

Okay, so maybe the world is pretty much the same; but in a small way this week illustrates how fast technology is evolving, how the Neocons are really just a bunch of crooks, and how Lebron is fucking amazing.

The world might not have changed much for us, but ponder the man in Poland that recently woke up from a coma he had been in since communism ruled his country.

What’s amazing to Grzebski, I’m sure, is that he looks around and sees that so much in his country has gotten better, has improved over the years, yet the inner life of his fellow man seems to have suffered.

According to his wife.

“He was so amazed to see the colorful streets, the goods,” she said. “He says the world is prettier now” than it was 19 years ago, when Poland was still under communist rule.

Listen to his observations about modern life and take heed.

“What amazes me today is all these people who walk around with their mobile phones and never stop moaning. I’ve got nothing to complain about,” said Grzebski.

He must really wonder why everyone is acting so skittish. So hectic. And so beat.

I wouldn’t know what to tell him. All I can say is the world is a piece of fruit, you are a seed, let’s have a picnic.


I went on a great hike this Sunday.

Cold Creek Preserve. Up in the Santa Monica Mountains. In Malibu.

It was a curvalicious, meandering trek down a mountain side and along a ridge, that started through shady, twiggy trees that bent overhead forming a canopy. They reminded me of a scene from Sleepy Hollow. Except for the blazing heat and all.

About a mile and a half down the road we ran across an abandoned Dodge truck from what looked like the 19th Century. It was rusted and hollowed out, filled with animals. The hike down the mountain is way too steep to drive so it really makes you wonder what the heck it was doing down here.

What’s the story behind it.

A small amble away the trail bottoms out next to a little babbling creek. The creek is fed year-round by the sandstone cliffs that absorb water in the winter and then bleed it out.

This year the creek ran dismally thin, a mere puddle or two, one measly ripple connecting them.

This is me staring at it like a dork.

Still, the hike was beautiful. Quiet. Peaceful.

We passed only one other pair of hikers. Let me repeat that.

Smack dab in the middle of 2 million people, there were only 2 other hikers on this gem of a trail!

There’s even a little waterfall. You can kinda see it here. I was standing on top of it looking down.

I bet the Westfield Fashion Center was jam packed though.


Only problem with the trail was once you got to the bottom you had to hike back up to the top.

No Pain No Gain, they say. Those sado-masochist.

It did give us a chance to check out the rock house some more.

A dude in the 1890’s lived there for awhile in a blasted-out boulder. Not bad digs. Right next to the creek with a view of the canyon. Supposedly he lived there in between wives.

It shows.

It could use a woman’s touch.

Hiking back up to the top also afforded us the opportunity to gaze out at the view again, take in the natural wonder of Southern California, and ponder the fact that we’re surrounded by a sea of seven million people.

Yet, up there we were all alone.

I can’t wait for next Sunday.


Is it just me, or has Los Angeles seemed a touch more kind and intelligent since Paris Hilton has been locked up?

At least, that was the case until Victoria Beckham moved in.


The world…
it go round, go round
Everybody know now, know now
You sell your soul…
You going down, going down
— Nanoo Nanuck 2013


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