Chapter 1.
Los Angeles
Drove from san diego..mom and dad and the beach house. The best most familiar comfort zone. I stayed with them for two nights (one actually because Tyler kidnapped me and took me to Imperial Beach the second night after bar hopping)
And it was not nearly enough. I absolutely love being at the beach with my family. Sad to leave, but found out that I could get a street musicians permit in two days if I left for L.A. my second day in San Diego. Packed up, said bye to the last little bit of a comfort zone that I could be sure of and drove to the city.
Got lost because I entered the wrong place into my GPS. The cut-off to get a pass is 5 p.m. on weekdays and it was coming quick. Bigger cities and all their sub divisions. LA to me is LA. No mar vista, Venice, santa monica, it's all the same damn city right?
Finally found city hall, paid and applied for my permit and left to find Paul's Van in Venice Beach and take a little nap in my car. Got woken up as he returned "home" and went down to the stronghold to eat a salad. Big photo shoot going on there. Very fancy, professional. Real models and photographers. They wanted me to play my guitar, so what the hell. Why not. Nice acoustics in that big empty old room.
Abbot's Habbit coffee shop. Nicest barista ever. Looked like Will Ferrell. Honestly one of the nicest people I've ever met. I remember just hoping and praying that every single person is as sweet and nice to him as he is to everyone else. Even complete strangers. The jerks that come up and act like babies because their order took too long etc.
No free internet there but a piano that random people would come in and start to play. Some better than others. An older man playing and singing. A couple odd covers, but not bad. Hoping to make some change, but had no luck. I wished I didn't covet the last 55 cents in my pocket for a coffee refill (barista gave it to me for free in the end for waiting so long in line) oh will.
Sleep in Paul's van…had yet to hear from Shannon. Loud street. Had to find places to pee frequently throughout the night…in L.A. it's not easy for a gal. People everywhere..even in the dead of night. Clambering over Paul as he slept to wedge my way out the only working door and wander around to find a corner, bush, something…
Woke up the next morning to steal wi-fi from an unsuspecting neighbor, and then to City Hall to get my permit. The permit process was easier than I thought. Kept looking at the guy behind the glass like "that's it?" not necessarily disappointed, but half expecting some formal stack of papers explaining the layout of the promenade, rules, guidelines etc..how funny that I seek that out. Have I been so brainwashed to not trust the process unless I'm offered a rulebook?
Went to the Venice Beach boardwalk to try that out. Played for a few hours. Sold some cd's, and made some tips. Nice people both vending and passers by. The weathy and the poor all existing together in a super surreal scene. Also the poets, artists, young revolutionary types, looneys, the drunks, the dazed..folks trying to make it their own way, All mashed up together. I liked the boardwalk for that. So many differences, all seeking the same experience. The vendors all had this nice camaraderie with one another. I found myself buying their crafts, and they in turn bought my CD's. The boardwalk vending is a strange system. It seems that you are technically not supposed to sell your crafts, but can accept donations for your work, meaning if asked how much a CD is, I am supposed to say that I am operating on a donation basis, and to pay what you think it might be worth. Had to take down my CD's for sale sign. The system didn't really matter in the end. People understood and often were right on the mark.
Left for a meal on the open hatch of my car. The first of many cans of lentil soup. Some chips, water…so nice and simple..realized I don't really need to much of anything at all.
Off to the Promenade. A whole different world. Guess Jeans, Forever 21! Fancy Restaurants, and every chain restaurant you can list off the top of your head. Tourism central. I felt like a statistic by being there. Drove and parked as close as I could manage, loaded all of my gear onto the dolly, guitar on my back, mic stand in my hand and made the four block trek to see what all of the fuss was about.
On the Promenade you get to have your chosen spot for two hours before having to move. The turn around is on even hours, and I found my best time slot to be 6-8. Competitive out there, each musician fighting for his or her spot, their chance to be heard. I found out quickly that if you really want a certain spot, you have to arrive often more than an hour early and wait for the existing musician to play their set, and then take over when they are done. Sometimes someone would come up at the last minute claiming to have been waiting for the spot also, and so it begins…it's more of a fight out there. All around.. to sell your art, to be heard, to even get a spot. Three weeks of that process and I formally stepped down from the job. Fighting is only good when you are putting passion behind it to fuel a higher purpose. Not worth it to pound some songs out in front of the mc donalds for pennies and cigarette butts.
On the other side let me realize how lucky I've been and recognize what about this experience I am thankful for. Thanks to the folks that bought my CD's after hearing only 15 seconds of a song. Thanks for the folks that came up and talked to me, for that connection. Traveling alone is wonderful, expansive and exciting, but I still constantly crave the opportunity to connect with others…some friendly folks to relate with, laugh with or exchange stories, even if only briefly. Thanks for helping me to not feel invisible, and for sending me sweet messages. They dug me out of the ground when I really let the masses get to me.
Thanks to the sweet musicians that were so kind to me…for being there and for taking the time to talk to me. We were all out there pushing for the same thing, and even through our self serving goals, we were able to support one another. Right on.
I was offered the opportunity to stay in Shannon's home, and after offering her some wine and 40 bucks, I was offered back a key for the remaining three weeks of my stay. After sleeping in a van, and then my tiny car, it's amazing how my eyes turned a tiny purple couch shaped like a jelly bean into a king sized feather bed. Got used to the shape of the couch after a while, and really enjoyed having a place to hide away after being enveloped in a sea of people all day long.
And thanks to Pitah, for being there to talk to when I returned to the house. For the late night conversations and t.v. shows…for the tiny turtle around my neck.
You were right.

Chapter 2
Burning man
To bed at 3:00 a.m. is no surprise if you know me. I was anxious and nervous…but mostly excited. Up at 7:00 a.m. Loaded the car…Paul strapping bikes to the roof, and off to begin the 12 hour drive. So many lakes in Nevada, who knew? I always thought the entire expanse of Nevada to be completely barren, ugly…but I found myself marking the places as we passed them…come back here someday, go back there someday…another lake, a green field, horses, cows, more water. Where are we??
Drove all day. Got to black rock city late. 10:00 p.m. The gate keeper found out it was our first time out there and made me roll in the dust. Thought it would take some convincing but not so. Dusty everywhere. Powder soft, and spreading slowly, the assault over every single thing I own and have brought with me on this trip.
The art installations out there are bizarre and awe inspiring. Huge. The whole city is massive. I could hear explosions, laughter, bike wheels spinning out in the dust, music as I scrambled to put up my tent in the dark. Got the tent secure and went to see the action for myself. If I tried, I could barely skim the surface of that place with my words. What I didn't expect was that it was hugely diverse there. People from all walks of life, out there letting go. That one chance that we cannot afford in daily life offered through a huge dusty, barren playa. It makes sense now…the extreme isolation, the heat, dust, binding us all together. I'm realizing now all of the things that I need to let go of in my life how in so many ways I'm open, and the ways that I would love to open up even more. I can thank this experience for helping me to realize this and be gentle about the process of really opening up again. Expansion.
Three days of trekking around the playa. More cans of soup…beers with the neighbors..bike rides, dancing, a rollerskating rink and spinning rides. Tiny bars everywhere. My favorite one, the cowboy bar. They gave out giant pickles and some of the best porter I have ever had.
Climbed up to the top of the man structure. A bird's eye view of the entire city coming alive at dusk. On the way, walking alongside the lantern lighting procession…silent and beautiful against the sunset. Reminded me of home.
Saturday, the last day there, a huge white out dust storm. On went the goggles and face mask. The handkerchief around my neck, no longer ornamental. Couldn't see even five feet away. Sat under the neighbor's parachute and drank tequila, tecate, and ate JoAnn's delicious guacamole for the entire four hours of the storm.
Saturday night, midnight, broke camp and started the slow drive back to L.A. The hungry monster calling, never ceasing.
Drove from midnight until 2:00 p.m. the next day. Only stops for gas and the one stop at the view point above mono lake to see the sunrise. Pink clouds on the glassy smooth water. Listening to sad folk songs. Occasionally Paul would wake up for a moment, only to say that he was tired before falling back asleep. I didn't mind driving the entire distance…happy for some solitude and road to pound out the cumulus clouds in my head. To give the longing in my heart a chance before ruling it out completely. Easier surely is the latter, but I've already made it this far. Can't operate on fear no longer people!
L.A. again finally. Showing up at Shannon's house still covered in dust. Piles of garbage in my back seat. Best-shower-ever.
Sleep.





Chapter 3
North
Left the 5th of September to play a show at Brainwash in San-Francisco. Shan hopping on a leg of the tour for the ride up to Oregon to meet with her family up there. Stopped in Oakland to see Dennis, and then off to the city. The brainwash experience was o.k. Played until the kitchen closed and missed my dinner. Thanks to Paul Wild, Dennis and Baran, my wonderful friends for your company and for the late night meal…and for letting me play that beautiful Goodall..what a treat…
Fun back in Oakland later playing guitars and talking with Dennis. Another 3:00 a.m. bedtime…should go without saying at this point.
Morning coffee at Mama Buzz. Would've played there on the first tour if it hadn't been for my stomach flu. Nice to be back.
Goodbye to SF..made a note in my mind to come back through on my way down if my funds afford it…I love this city.
Headed to Sebastopol. Ace in the Hole Cider Pub is on the top of my list of favorites. Nicest people ever, a really fun show, and the lucky opportunity to connect with an old friend. Thank you Sebastopol, for allowing me to feel like I can breathe again.
Wine and talking the night away with Michelle. Again, thankful for the sweet hospitality and company. How did I get to be such a lucky girl?
Sunday morning, coffee, planning a trip to the coast..so happy to be a passenger in the car for the first time in quite a while. Grabbed beers in Bodega, Michelle bought some corn from a sweet woman who informed us that she used to teach, but quit her day job to become a farmer..I told her I used to teach, but quit my day job to be a musician and hi fives were had by all, and yep, I'm still a silly fool. Kicking around like a kid, fumbling, bad jokes and all, rock paper scissors and thumb wars, it's all still there.
The coast was cloudy and beautiful. Water smashing over huge rocks in the sea. We found a nice rock formation to climb up and watch the show. Thanks to Michelle for sharing about thermal energy. Super amazing to get a glimpse of what this place is about behind the scenes. If we only knew…
Left to drive to Ruch Oregon. A nine hour drive. Arrived in the dark to a huge house in the woods with a giant comfy porch. Red wine and a cup o' noodles, the moon the deepest darkest red that I have ever seen. Slept on the porch and awoke to find myself in the middle of a valley in the lush green forest. This wins so far this trip for best first thing to see when I open my eyes in the morning.
Packed up and drove out towards the applegate dam. Along the way a little campground empty but for one other car. Cleanest bathrooms and campsites that I have ever seen! Paid the 10 dollar fee and pitched my tent 20 feet from the Rogue River. In the woods for the night. Nice and quiet. A little spooky, but alas no boogey men, no bears, just river and trees, my little tent and guitar. Another can of soup…warm sierra Nevada and a short trip to the dam for a swim. Dark by 8:15. Reading and recording with the tiny Zoom thanks to Paul.
The drive to Portland was both nostalgic and beautiful. Singing in the car.... I've gotten beyond the point of weeping at each little thing but it still comes in waves. I'm makin it up to Seattle with a tiny fire burning. I'm almost home…my home away from home.
I can't see too far past tomorrow, but I know that my true home is calling everyday. Gently pulling me, reminding me how in love I am with every damn thing. People too…endless chapters upon chapters to live and re-visit…