The Weekend Review

So it was a difficult weekend, I had a lot of work to do and too many people around to do it right.  I won’t get into too many details, as they are irrelevant.

Actual footage taken from my phones camera of the theater screen during Transformers:RotF

Actual footage taken from my phone's camera of the theater screen during Transformers:RotF

I took my father to see Transformers: Rise of the Fallen on saturday afternoon.  The glaring and giant plot holes in that script were generating a gravitational pull of their own and I felt myself being pulled into that inky black abyss of Michael Bay’s brain.  I even fought the urge to run for the hills halfway through, but I gritted my teeth, tied myself down to the arm-rests of my chair via the semi-long laces of my boots and looked hell in the face long enough to finish the damn thing.  Not my favorite movie this year.

I almost didn’t make any of the BBQ’s I had intended on visitting.  Come 10 PM I was still slaving away at work that I felt needed to be done.  But enough was enough, and marched my ass out to the car and headed to the home of a colleague of mine from ‘Deadliest Warrior’, who was having a BBQ on into the evening.  So glad I did too.  Somewhere around the 11PM hour someone shifted the great gears in the sky and I found myself in what appeared to be a party scene from ‘Entourage’.  Incredibly strange, but a great time nonetheless.

Sunday I traveled out to Zuma for a few hours to hang on the beach with some folks from school I hadn’t seen much of recently.  After the late start and traffic I really only spent an hour and half at the beach, but it was a beautiful day and the beach was perfect so even that small window was plenty.  On the way home, driving out Malibu Canyon back into the Valley I was stuck in what can only be called the mountain equivalent of the “Everybody Hurts’ video.

Some albums are perfect for where I live, this is definitely one of them.

Some albums exemplify Los Angeles and life here, this album, very appropriately named, is one.

After sitting in the heat a bit, I pulled the U-Turn, fought my way across the PCH traffic and into Topanga Canyon.  As I turned on to the beginning of that winding snake of a back road, the local rock radio station announced it was starting The Doors  classic “LA Woman” record, my absolute favorite of theirs.  If you haven’t heard it in awhile, find someplace quiet and do yourself a huge favor and listen again, your mind will be blown.  So dark and bittersweet, you can feel the heat blowing in through a small apartment window, the slight buzz of neon signs outside on a summer night as Morrison barks and inches and oozes  his way across every track.  If you smelled the original recordings, I would put money that they smell like wet asphault after a rare August storm.

Sorry, lost in the tangent for a moment.

So I spent the last worthwhile time of my weekend driving slowly through the canyon and relaxing a bit.  It’s been terribly stressful lately and I could use a few more moments like those.

And now we’re at monday.  The end.

The only music for the day is, well you knew:

The Doors – L. A. Woman (the whole thing)

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