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“Sometimes you feel that you’re part of the scen-e-ry, ohhhh, the green-e-ry.” This morning on my way to a hike through the Armstrong Woods, Supertramp on “The River” boldly proclaimed the theme of the day. It’s just beautiful up here, classic rock and all. Forget the plan to mope under the dripping redwoods, the sun is shining and the outdoors calling. Green everywhere, that delicate bright early-Spring green. The redwoods are magnificent, as always, everything below covered in green moss, and me all by my Chrissy. The Russian River outside the deck of my room is swollen and brown, rushing past the pussy- and weeping- willows, tiny green leaves almost glowing. My middle of the week weekend began as planned with a visit to Pierre, who kindly offered me a nice deco bar on wheels at an attractive price, but I think I’m going to pass it up, who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind tomorrow. I’m so like Jack, of and-the-beanstalk Jack, selling my cow for a few beans. I really should be buying things I need right now, shouldn’t I? A bed? Kitchen table? A deco bar? Anyway, last night I watched Platinum Blonde on my laptop, which was probably the worst film of the era. Why don’t they release the good films from the 30s on DVD?
This morning after my hike, I had coffee with Steve, my cute neighbor in Guerneville, and former lover of Denny, former lover of Bob, former lover of me… Shouldn’t we be boyfriends by some mathematic principle? Steve and I excitedly discussed novel ideas about preventing standing water due to redwood-needle-clogged downspouts on our flat roofs, and photography.
Since when did they start pronouncing Diane Arbus “Dee-ohhn?” Antiquing on the Gravenstein Highway, lunch at the Pine Cone in Sebastopol, and back to the Rio Villa for Ichi the Killer, compliments of the young and charming Davide. It was violent and disgusting and I TOTALLY LOVED IT, the violence tempered by dark humor, horror-inspired fakery, and thrilling editing. Again, I would have preferred less plot, but I’m willing to let go, plus they threw in a slightly perplexing ending which made up for the over-reliance on narrative. For something completely different, I made my way over to the Rio Theater, conveniently about 50 paces west from here, to see Mona Lisa Smile, which wasn’t really that bad, a cut-and-paste chick flick. Did anyone else see The Rapture? It’s such an interesting film about the end of the world, faith, and human nature. I don’t know why I thought of that just now, perhaps it’s being the only vacationer in Monte Rio. I’m totally alone up here, except for the cricket in my room, whose chirp is joined by the tick tick tick of the clock and the occasional WHOOSH of the toilet. It’s very David Lynch, with frilly pink window treatments.
Next day. Sigh. Vacation over, enough time to myself, time to get back to work.
