Good little local (Las Osos) reggae band, Oso Sol, was playing outdoors Saturday night in San Luis Obispo. They were at a large restaurant/bar that had a patio alongside a creek. Nice harmony. Good vibes. https://shltr.net/ososolslo

What a trip! I love being on the road, the serendipity of it all. Except:

1. I miss home.

2. I run across so much stuff (shoot so many pics, make so many notes) that it’s frustrating not being able to communicate it all. Fragments:

    I’m back home from a doozy of a trip. Left San Luis Obispo around 11 AM Saturday sunny morning, north on Hwy. 1. By the time I got to Cayucos, it was foggy. Ahh! Northern Californian consciousness kicks in. I like the fog (grew up in San Francisco).

My body adores Southern California.

My mind revels in NorCal.

Sirius music was on a roll. Just 2 examples:

-Jimmie Rodgers, Blue Yodel #3: https://grooveshark.com/#!/s/Blue+Yodel+No+3/3WMJfN?src=5

-Muddy Waters backed by the Rolling Stones, Mannish Boy: https://grooveshark.com/#!/search/song?q=rolling+stones+muddy+mannish+boy Oh yeah!

Got to my house (built it in late ’60s). near Esalen. Ehren, the caretaker was there, said I could spend the night. (He lives in a tuned-in tiny home on the road above.

   Ehren is a stone mason, in his 30s, surfer, fisherman, gardener, hunter, explorer. He keeps the house and grounds beautifully. He’s like an extension of and extrapolation on all the things I did or wanted to do when I lived in Big Sur. Cross-generational soul mates.

   We went for a swim in the pool (creek-fed water, no chlorine). Later that afternoon I had a beer at Nepenthe. That night I had dinner at Deetjen’s, by far my favorite inn in all the world, the ambience of the dining room with candles and chamber music as soulful as it was 50 years ago. That night I invoked former-resident executive privilege and got into the hot springs at Esalen. Mmm.

   I’m goin’ home…home, bom bom bom bom bom-bom… 

Above protest scene at Malibu yesterday.

I never travel around California in the summer, so I was surprised and bummed by the tourist/zoo vibe in Pismo Beach. No thanks! (It can be deserted and restful in the winter, plus there are those cinnamon rolls). So onward, and the beach was everywhere overloaded, it being a warm gorgeous blue-sky California day. Knew I had to get inland.

   In all these years, I’ve never been into the actual town of San Luis Obispo, since Hwy 101 skirts it. It was a relief. No tourist madness. It’s a lovely town, a bit of Ojai, a bit of Santa Barbara, a bit of Santa Cruz. Cal Poly has always been my favorite of the state colleges. A tradition of hands-on. Architectural students have to learn how to draw (by hand).

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I like this place. (Yes I do.) Gutsy architecture. Wonder what it’s like inside. I’ve shot pictures of it a few times before.

I’m about to head north, maybe to Pismo Beach tonight.

Yesterday was one of the most extraordinary days of my life. I had agreed (after some reluctance) to give a talk at the funeral of my college buddy Richard Zanuck in front of 500 mostly Hollywood people in a Beverly Hills Episcopalian church. I got there early and got a program. There were a total of 5 speakers and they were, in this order:

Dean Zanuck

Tim Burton

Sherry Lansing

Clint Eastwood

Lloyd Kahn

Holy shit! I started to hyperventilate. Vision immediately popped into my mind of a singer going to his gig and upon arrival learning that Otis Redding is the opening act.

Well, a fuck of a lot happened yesterday, every bit of it good. In a nutshell: the family told me to tell the real stories, and I let it rip. True tales of 2 punk pranksters in the ’50s pedal-to-medal in pursuit of pure fun. Trips to Baja and Mexico, surfing, our exploding car at Malibu Colony, fights, practical jokes of fiendish intensity, the pure F-U-N of it all. Once I started with the stories, they were with me. Channeling fer shure.  They loved hearing about this side of him. This was a much-loved guy. It was a sweet spot in time.

More later. I’ve got to digest it all. What a day!

I am so loving Southern California.

*Title of George Greenough in-the-curl surf film