The Hazel Project

Hello everyone,

I’ve fixed the links in the “music” category in the sidebar. So they work now. I’ve even tested it. Later I’ll have the whole CD in it’s own category with the playing order I’ve intended.
For now though

I’m uploading a long piece that I mixed today for headphones (because that’s what I have to mix on right now).

To get to it click on the “music” category in the sidebar. I’ve written an explanation of the piece and the link is at the bottom.

So the mix will sound different in the car or on a stereo but I wanted to put it out there to see what you guys thought.

It Borrows heavily from Lyle Mays (Pat Metheny Group), Tony Banks (Genesis), Russell Ferrante, and Jimmy Haslip (both from Yellowjackets) to be sure. I really mean to pay homage to these superlative musicians and composers. It has contained within it a Lyle Mays melody called “close to home”- at the end of the synth solo.
Give it time. It’s a long one, but there’s a lot of ear candy going on and expands aurally.
Thanks for listening… with headphones.
Stephen A. Thomas

Yesterday after a very moving service at Agape, Tim suggested hanging out in Venice for a bit.
Tim had info about a street fair there and Hoopnotica (explained later) was going to be there. It only took an hour to find a place to park, and another 40 mintes to walk to the street fair. or is it fare? Seemed a lot of people had the same idea.

Venice was the place to be…on a bicycle.

The typical stuff was there. Magnets, Post Cards Art, Glass Works, Jewlery. The smoky aroma of grilled food permeated the street, kielbasa mostly. Maybe it was veggie.

Pubs lining the streets had their doors open to attract the drinkers.

We passed one place that had a sea of people drinking, loudly.

My pace slowed to absorb this vibe.

I observed through the open door a table that had four males who looked exactly the same; all in the same standing posture; the same smile. This Sunday flier ad for muscle T’s showed the males hawking over one sitting female; basking in all the attention. This struck me in a way that made me laugh.

Biology.

Why are we so trapped in biology? I think to myself, realizing I participated in the same behavior three weeks ago at the beach.

The street was divided in two by a mile long row of tents. That’s only a slight exaggeration. It was an amazing amount of people that shuffled along. And tiny tiny dogs which I found interesting. chihuahuas everywhere. You could tell they scared out of their tiny minds. Even though the crowd was enormous they were very accomodating.

It was a good vibe. a slower pace looking in all the artisan tents.

Tim and I were actually seeking out the Hoopnotica performers who we saw at Bleepfest 2006. Hoopnotica are fire dancers but use hoops (as in hula) for their main prop. And they dress like they’re in a Dr. Seuss parade.

Hoopnotica were toward the end of the fair but we had a chance to talk with our favorite Hoopist, Keaton Talmadge, (they have a really cool website by the way) even though she was in civilian clothes she demonstrated her talent for a small but enthusiatic crowd. Next door to Hoopnotica was the Percussion tent. I was in heaven. Shakers, singing bowls, and djembe’s all over the place. I become taken with a small basket shaker like the one I used to play at Jillians. I’m testing it out and watching Hoopnotica, thinking,

“she’s cute. and needs a live percussionist.”

We leave the shaking and hoopness and find the end of the fair.

A brass band starts warming up.

I notice a small park with a large banner over the entrance.

The banner read “Fun Zone”. You know, for kids. but the band sounded way better than the music they had for adults on the other stages. This was a band of at least 10 people on stage and 3 percussionists wandering around the crowd. They were all dressed up like super heros. Most looked like they had to raid their Grandmother’s closet to find that much polyester.
The music sounds really really good and fun. The adults are going crazy, dancing and clapping along.

The kids are standing around eating popcorn.

The leader was an alto sax player that looked like a former co-worker at GC in Raleigh.
He was tall with a lot of red hair. His name was Captain Broke Bank. And had the best costume. Blue spandex unitard with a B safety pinned to the chest. He had a picnic table cloth for a cape. My other favorite performer was “Captain Bubble Drum” who had rigged a marching drum harness with a snare drum and tom tom. Except he wrapped the drums in bubble wrap. He also had a copper pipe coming from behind him arching over his head with a cymbal mounted on it. He too looked like he could be in a Dr. Seuss parade.

He was rallying the kids…and I fell for it.

“Hello, I am Captain Broke Bank and we are here to fight the Evil Anti-Groove!”

“Can you say Anti-Groove”

“blarrghe’ comes the sound from the crowd.

“Alright Kids, everyone scream, ANTI GROOVE GO HOME!”

‘AN i grub oho’- the crowd is warming up a bit

We get three more tries to scream the Anti-groove away. And then he says

“We are here to fight the anti-groove, and loosen the sphincter of the world!”

and they break into a really fun swampy new orleans style song that the adults sing, dance and clap to while pudgy kids stand around and eat popcorn.

Thanks for checking in, the comments, and the phone conversations,

Stephen A. Thomas

Dave takes me through a ‘thoroughly modern kitchen’. I notice a cereal bowl next to a box of banana nut flakes resting on the stove.

It had the vibe of cereal being a great idea until Dave found out there was no milk in the house. Then he got pissed off that breakfast wasn’t working out so he just left the cereal out in protest; and as
a reminder that he’d have to drive the Sentra to pick up some milk.

I notice a bad smell. Its a trash can that managed to breed fruit flies. Looked like fruit had been in there rotting for 3 weeks. All I could see were black banana peels.

He opens his back door to a tiny porch with a black PVC pipe railing.
The little porch overlooked His back yard, & overlooked the most amazing view of L.A. I’ve seen from Echo Park. To his right he had full view of Griffith park and the Hollywood sign. He could see Studio City and Century City, and to his left, all the way beyond Santa Monica to the Pacific. His house just happens to be on a very high hill that overlooks everything without obstruction. Breathtaking.

He finally remembers meeting me and exclaims,

“OHHHHH you’re the guy with VW and the broken locks!”

“That’s me.” was all I could get out because the view really left me speechless.

I pull a chair out and decide to ask Dave some questions about his
own story, since we’ve already covered the Sentra and his Real Estate adventures.

I finally think of a good question and ask Dave about some of the pictures I saw in his house of him in uniform. I ask, “What war were you in Dave, Viet Nam, Korea?”

He laughs and said,

“Spanish American.”

And that was that. He mumbles about the current adminsitration in protest and anger. I respond to mostly let him get a few drinks through his drilled out cork.

This seems to cool him off a bit and he offers me a proposition.

“I know a guy that’s a locksmith and he’s a good friend, I bet he’ll fix your lock for $25.”

“In return for hooking you up with my friend, you know it’s like a service, all I want are some Bagels.”

“Bagels?” I ask. “What kind of Bagels, Dave. Plain, everything, cinnomon raisin?”

“One of each” he says.

I laugh and repeat out loud, “bagels”, shaking my head in disbelief.

The doorbell rings.

Dave begins to politely cuss. It’s someone he’s expecting, but he was just begining to have some thoughts that made sense to himself.
He’s frustrated for a few seconds and is waiting for an answer from me about the bagels.

We make our way back through his house and Dave tells me to write my name down on a sheet of paper. Dave doesn’t have any blank paper. I’m doing good to find a pen & write my name and number on the DVD instructions on top of the TV. Dave opens the door and it’s Ron, the handy man/ Dave’s friend I ease out door between the two of them into the sunlight.

Dave immediately goes into a story that left Ron hanging last time.

“They kicked me out of the VA.” Dave says, with a lot more cussing than I wrote here.

“Dave, they can kick you out of the program to quit smoking, but they can’t kick you out of the VA.” Ron explains with a lot more cussing than I wrote here.

Dave staggers outside to listen more intently but Ron’s explanation is lost on him.

Turns out Dave doesn’t really want a good explanation or reason he just wants a cigarette.

Ron obliges with a Marlboro Red and they spend no less than thirty seconds lighting it because the sunlight is brighter than the lighter flame.

I excuse myself and head down the street for my computer reuse treasure.

Dave and Ron begin to discuss a project about a lemon tree in the backyard.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Stephen A. Thomas

Two new pieces.

First, is an edited version called ‘Look Up edit’
It’s the last drone piece I wanted to post that seemed to round out
‘1 pearl ear ring,’ & ‘Sapphire facet #3′.

It’s an old piece Davak & I wrote at his house. I stripped it down after having a 14 minute version. It flows easier now. Almost through composed.

Secondly,

A piece called ‘orlando’ written shortly after I visited my Brother in FL.
It’s a first generation improv piece. I liked the liquidy e. piano sound, the piece seemed to write itself based on the sound.

Thanks for listening.

Stephen A. Thomas

A few days ago I found myself taking a walk down the hill to retrieve a 17″ Macintosh monitor someone had put out for reuse. This happens a lot in Echo Park; mostly with couches and bed mattresses.

I passed this guy with wiry white hair and trucker’s cap working on a Nissan Sentra mostly blue but with grey primer on many random spots on the car as if he was covering dings and dents only he could see.

His name is Dave.

He’s told me the same 2 stories over and over before, but he’s nice and has lived in the same house on the top of this hill for over thirty years.

I try to be the friendly neighbor and ask Dave about his car again, knowing he doesn’t remember who I am since I moved one street over.

He says, “yeah, let me tell you something about this car. This is my wifes car right? Well it was having problems so I had a new engine put in it right? So it was brand new, brand new car. Well some bastards stole it and took it for joy ride right. So they start taking out the radio and stealing parts out of the dash as if they fixing up another Sentra.”

I didn’t ask he knew this and let him continue because if I asked too many questions Dave would lose his place and have to start over.

I wish I was making that up.

He says, “What those assholes should’ve done is swap the liscense plates and take off because this car had the brand new engine. That way I could’ve gotten insurance for a new car!”

I think this story is a few years old because he tells it the same each time. And when he gets to this part he says it the same way with a certain bitterness and acceptance.

Dave smokes a lot and was surprised this day to see him without a cigarette. He says, “you got a minute I want to show you something, what were you doing out here anyway.”

I say, “Sure, I have minute. Well yaknow your neighbor has put a computer monitor outside and I need one so I was coming out to pick it up.”

“OHHH yeah, that’s a good one. It still works, that guy is an Electrical Engineer.”

I say “yeah I hope it works, he cut the VGA cable off for some reason.”

He opens the gate to his porch. There’s a bunch of broken furniture in the yard that looks like it came from a mid seventies disco.

He invites me in to his house to show me why he’s stayed here so long. He told me that when he moved onto the street he had a bid to buy the house at auction for $12,000. Then another guy who bid on property up the street raised the bid on his house as well. This really gets Dave agitated, still to this day. He said,

“So, I ended up having to pay $22,000 for this house. Almost double!”

I begin to wonder if he realizes how valuable his property actually is.

He invites me inside and its dark and smells like stale smoke and alcohol. Thirty years of it. There’s old stuff everywhere and no attempt to integrate anything new. DVD player instructions sit on top of a TV that reminds me of the one I use to watch MTV on in High School. You know the console kind that had a veneer on it that was scratch resistant but still had to be dusted.

He sees a fifth of brown liquor on the floor. He picks it up and shows it proudly, “The cork wouldn’t come out so I drilled a hole in it.” Dave says with a big grin.

With that, he tilts the bottle perpindicular to the ceiling and throws his head back to suck the alcohol through the tiny drilled out hole. I was wondering what it was, whiskey, tequila, I couldn’t tell. Whatever it was there was a lot of it. I saw a price mark $1.99 in big red letters on the side.

I hear that sound liquor makes in a fifth bottle being sloshed around. I guess because the bottle’s shaped like a square it sounds like there’s coins in it.

He wipes his mouth on his t shirt and says. “There’s a bunch of saw dust floating around down in there.”

It’s 10:30 in the morning.

Thanks for checking in. I’m trying to break these down into shorter experiences.

Stephen A. Thomas

The vibe is this:

Driving down sunset blvd. after a fresh haircut. I need a fuse for my Sirius radio adaptor. I pull into the parking lot for the local Radio Shack. Los Angeles has lots of strip malls but they are more dense than in Raleigh. This means that there are 8 or 10 stores with maybe 15 places to park, and the entrances are easy to miss depending on what side of the road you’re on. I really wanted to spare everybody this but driving logistics are a major part of living here. Consider it a sign from heaven to turn left across traffic and straight into 1 of 3 spaces reserved for Radio Shack!

I guess at the right type of fuse I need. I’m being rung up by a person that had the social skills of a frustrated teenager. I counted my change just to make sure he wasn’t randomly guessing at it and made my way out the door.

“HEY VW” someone yells in a mixed accent of Indian and New Jersey.
I’m twisting my head all over trying to see where the sound came from. I look like a tourist. My car still had NC plates on it at this time.
I hear it again, this time with heavy breathing.

“Are you the guy who owns this Volkswagen?” He asks saundering across the parking lot.
His name was Steve of Indian and Greek ancestary (sp) He was large (as in rotund), and had a very dark complexion. He was sweating as if he’d been logging pine trees in the Mississippi humidity but it was only 79 degrees. He had a lingering accent but I could tell New Jersey overtook most of it.

I had no where to be, and I thought of everyone who needed a good story about L.A.

THE STORY:

Steve lights into me with the fastest sales pitch I’ve ever heard.

“I’ll tell you what I do for you ok, ok, I’ll pop that dent out the door, and put the strips back on the side, you still have the strips, yes yes I’ll put them right back on for you I’ll screw them on to the holes if you still have the strips, and the big dent in the door were you in a wreck yes yes I’ll pull it right out, I’m a mechanic you see I’m off today but have all the tools right in my car over there (points to sunset blvd backing up with rush hour traffic) right over there, he reiterates; and I’ll do it for, I’ll do it, hm for $115, ok take 30 minutes make it look new in 30 minutes you know what I’ll do for you you know what I’ll do save you $500 dollars and do it for $115 whaddyou think of that whaddya think good deal right very good right.
whats your name? he asks.

I smile and say Stephen. in my slow Southern accent. Yes, here I’m considered to have a Southern accent. He lights in again.

“You know Stephen you know what I’ll do for you is pull that dent right out I have the tools in my car I’m borrowing them from the shop and return tomorrow.”

Where’s your shop? I ask

“It’s right down there right down there (And he points down the road, a street lined with houses and no shops of any kind much less auto body repair.) he goes on without missing a beat.

“I’m just trying make a little money on the side for my family you know I have a lot of kids.” I wanna buy new shoes for my kids. I have a niece getting married I have a niece getting married so whaddya think weddings are expensive.

“How about tomorrow,” I say slowly. $115 is too much.

“OK you know what I do for you stephen you know what I do, how much would you pay me to do it right now bottom price make it look real nice for like at the body shop save you $500.”

I stand there looking at the dent in my door. I’m thinking of whether to go with the flow of this unfolding experience or go home for a run.

“fifty bucks” I say,

He’s off to get his tools still talking,

“Pull your car around the corner in front of the UPS truck around the corner from this liquor store right here,”
“It’s marked yellow” I interrupt,”it’s ok, it’s ok I do it all the time and no 1 gets ticket no one does stephen yes yes pull right around my friend right around the corner.

I pull in front of the UPS truck and get the side moulding strips out of my trunk, really excited about how he’s going to backpedal his way out putting them on.

He shows up with not a tool box but a BOX box. A cardboard box full of flammable solvents rags and other inhalents that had better street value than what I was going to pay him to use properly.

He begins to tell me about his family. I sit down and engage him while he takes out a tool that looks like something my Grandfather would use to do wood working. He jams it into my car door huffing, sweating and really trying to get hold of something with enough leverage to pull the 2 year old dent out. It doesn’t work. So he holds his breath and jabs it in my car door 4 more times. Now my dent is not only uglier but dangerous because it has a bunch of metal burrs sticking up where he made holes.

He tells me he’s from back East and wants to know why on earth I moved to L.A. from North Carolina. I begin a retrofitted explanation as he manages to pull the dent out a little. He explains in his culture women get married earlier than “my people” and how family life is so important.

He rips off part of the solvent box and opens up a can of putty. He catches himself and says ooo ooo “I have to get sandpaper its in the car. Stay right here stay right here.” He comes back with several sheets of different grade sand paper and explains in careful detail about how important it is to use the right grade.

Apparently the right grade was 1 below “asphalt” and started to sand the metal burrs down scarring the door 10 times worse than it was.

Flakes of paint, rust and metal are hitting the curb as he’s telling me about how he hates it in L.A. That it’s changed too much, and the middle class is gone. He finally runs out of things to say and he smears the putty all over my door.

The street is now a huffer’s paradise from all the putty. He lets it dry for 90 seconds fanning it with another piece of “tool box” with one hand and starts shaking up a can of black spray paint in the other.
He keeps talking about his 12 kids or something while he sprays short bursts of paint all over my car door. It’s running down the side, but it looked better than rust. By this time it was right at 30 minutes and I remind him of the mouldings. These side mouldings were held on by two adhesive strips that melted off in any heat about 65 degrees.
There are no screw holes. I’ve seen some VW’s with missing moulding where it looked like they tried to put them back on with tar.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t have any tar.

“ohhhhhh I cant put those on look look those are done see see the sticky parts done and they’re all warped you can throw them away my friend throw them away they’re done. I can’t, those are finished my friend yes yes throw them away.

By this time I’m ready to leave, disappointed he didn’t try harder to put on the side mouldings, I say.

“Okay $35 for the dent in the door since you can’t put on the side mouldings.”

“Listen you know what I do, you know what I do for you is hammer out these wheel well dents, How did this happen?”

Before I could ask “what dents?”

He has retrieved his only other tool, besides inhalents and the wrong looking dent puller, which was a ball-pien hammer knocking the hell out of my wheel wells.

“You gotta fix these you gotta fix these they’ll puncture your tire they will you’re lucky I saw them yes?”

I said again “$35, for the dent in the door”

and he walks up to me with hammer in hand and looks at my face and says,” look I’m just an honest guy trying to feed my kids, and get a present for nieces wedding. Ok Ok I saved you $500 look at it look at it at how much I saved you”

I look at the shiny mismatched black paint running down the side of my door getting high from the smell of putty and paint, and say slowly,

“Will you take a North Carolina check?”

Knowing the answer but thought I’d try it.

“no no no I can’t take checks can’t take em ATM in the liqour store only charges fifty cents ATM right in there ok, you go and get the cash and I wait for you don’t worry I’ll wait. I gotta put the tools away.”

How kind he was to wait for me to pay to get money.

I WILL NOT PAY AN ATM FEE!

I think so loudly I must’ve yelled it.

By the way,
This liquor store was like the one in Raleigh on Peace st. that says in the marqui,

“Large enough to serve you, Small enough to know you.”

Except this liquor store was called “Bert’s”

Anyway, I try to cobble together some items to get cash back. I see a sign DEBIT $10 or more. So I get a L.A. Times, gum and a bottle of Pinot Noir.

Another Indian at the counter whose accent was so entact I could barely tell he was speaking English says, “is this al ?l”

I say “cash back please”

“No cash back no cash back must use ATM fifty cent fee.”

waving his hand over to a kiosk by the door.

After juggling cards and trying to remember a pin number that might work. I get cash buy the paper and gum and hand Steve fifty bucks who is patiently waiting by the door looking out in the parking lot for the next hustle opportunity.

I walk back to my car, and notice that Steve left the piece of cardboard box with putty smeared all over it for a huffer to enjoy later.

“Everything is one.” I think to myself and drive my newly ‘repaired’ VW home glad to experience a slice of L.A. hustle for only $50.

Thanks for checking in everyone.

Stephen A. Thomas

The orange worked. I felt great. I had written down my info for our hiking friend and I ask if she has any sunscreen. She came prepared, with not only sunscreen but nose screen as well!

I was impressed with the SPF variety she kept in her trunk.
Then she pulled a beach bag out.
A large weave type bag with a blanket, flaxseed crackers and blueberries. Tim had extra water and a bag of trail mix in his Suburu. I had 2 clif bars left (of course) in the backpack.

We decided to walk to the Pacific Ocean about a 1/2 mile away.

The whole day just presented itself this way. In my mind it was already as good as it could get. See the sidebar if you want to know why.

sidebar:
I say this because the few days before were particularly tough. I was informed my training as a music editor had ended. It turns out they needed someone with more experience and more attuned to the ‘data entry’ side of the gig. I’m euphemising to save face of course. Did I even use that word right? Friday night of labor day weekend, I was still in shock and honestly angry. Tim and a composer colleague were going to see a lecture by an Indian guru in town. I thought I’d go too.
I liked him because he talked slow. Plus he had a job actually using his ability to speak deliberately. He kept saying over and over,
“stop trying to follow the meaning behind words and thoughts.
Trace the words back to the source of which they came.”
Have you ever tried to stop thinking? I had an incredible amount of chatter and random thoughts in my brain all in reaction to my situation. I actually found the guru’s words helpful; At least in diffusing my embarassment a bit.
So by the time Monday rolled around I was very ready to be out in nature. To my best observance, nature is happy with itself just as it is. It does it’s thing whether in Raleigh, NC; Jackson, MS; or Malibu, CA. It doesn’t pay rent, or judge a person’s ability regarding data entry. So I loved it and found myself very present in an Eckhart Tolle “Power of Now” sort of way.

BACK TO THE STORY:
We play frogger with the traffic on highway 1 with all of our supplies and talking about Steve Erwin and the stingray that killed him the night before. We were all really sad about that. We were also talking about the salamander we saw at the falls and this prompted me to relate a dream about a salamander/eel/leech type of animal I had recently. Too much Napolean Dynamite I guess. All I know is that in the dream I didn’t want the thing on me. We walk past long rows of beach front property with enough cars to stock a Lexus/Audi dealership.

When we arrive at the beach entrance we find Joe and Pamon waving their hand towards us getting our attention right away.
We set up the blanket and start eating the organic blueberries right away. After liberal applications of SPF30 to my nice farmer’s tan, we all head out to the ocean. I remember at Joe mentioning something about rocks twenty feet in. I nod like Stimpy I guess to acknowledge that I heard some sort of words being spoken.

We all run to the waves as if in a soda commercial. Joe reminds us again. Watch out for the rocks! At that moment my right toe jammed in a crevice and the ball of my foot hit something very pointy. Luckily I was in salt water so it burned like hell. The burning subsided into a nice endorphine numbness. You the kind that makes you wonder if you broke a toe? Then you look at your foot and think. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a broken toe it just matters if it’s still attached.”

The other 3find a place to stand and tread water. This is my first time in a long time to be in the Pacific water and decide to float.
I float pretty far out to where I can’t touch bottom. So far out only Tim comes out there to ask if I relalize I’m drifting.

I realize he’s right, and it occurs to me, if a stingray or other animal could take Steve Erwin at any time the same could happen to me. And at that moment I made a certain peace with myself. The deep respect I had for my oceanic environment helped a lot. I continued to float unafraid for some reason, I was already in the process of “brack toe” and settled into my body being cold, numb, and gently adrift all at once.

Drifting towards the inner ripples of thought source and further from words themselves, I hear,

“Are You Meditating?”

Apparently Tim & our hiking friend were through talking & putting on shoes. Waiting for me to get ready & venture forth.

I say, “not anymore” which made Tim laugh.

Tim is quite the adventurer and before I knew it, we were navigating steeper drop-offs; staying off the hillside trails and sliding down sloping rocks on our butts. I was hoping my shoes were good enough to catch these spots. So far so good. Some kids were playing in a smaller pool. Some people were haveing a picnic. We got to a point where we could climb a rail out of the stream and on to the main trail.

There was a house that some people had built there in 50’s. I was amazed they were able to get the building materials up there. It burned down in 1982. I know this because there was a sign post saying so.

Apparently, Mom Dad, Jack & Jim lived there. I know this becauseone of those cement blocks was mounted where you put your hands and write your name. There were at least two fire places and a wood burning stove, a kitchen area and bathtub left. Transplanted palm trees still growing where the slab ended. It was a mini-Hearst Castle. Ok not a castle but a very nice remnant of a home. I thought about what it must have been like to grow up there, next to a stream on the side of a mountain, so close to the ocean. It seemed idylic.(sp)

We were getting a little more tired now, the conversation about the weather in Hungary, how we all chose to be at Solstice Canyon that day; hiking excursions to the Grand Canyon, and bike riding were tapering off a bit. I was hungry & ready to eat something along the lines of a lobster or steak.

Anything other than another Clif bar.

We were walking downhill, faster now, getting closer to the starting point where cars were parked. We are stopped by an Englishman and his european friends. They want to know if it’s safe to drink the water. We give a unanimous NO. The European recognizes our hiking friend’s accent and they talk about origin and filtered water a few moments.
He thought it was like Perrier.
He learns our hiking friend is Hungarian. He’s shocked, totally thrown off because her mother is Italian.

He acted sad as if he’d lost a bet at one of those State Fair games.

Guess your Birthday

Guess your Gender
&
Guess your Country of Origin

Win this “Felix The Cat-bobble head-snow globe!”

The Englishman comes back to retrieve his friend and says,

“Forgive him he doesn’t like to hike and I’m making him come out here. He just wants to talk to you to get out of going any further.”

As they walk off his friend is still talking; but about his camera.

About this time, the 2 svelte guys pass again. We end up walking 5 or 6 steps behind them. They catch our conversation about what just happened and one turns around to tell his own story about being in Buda-Pest (sp) Hungary. So before we know it, we’ve have made friends with 2 more hikers. The svelte, well travelled, Joe and Pamon.

The conversation swirls way out of my realm to places I haven’t been or seen, or be able to find on a map. I think of the shower curtain I use to have with a big Map of the World on it. I could probably find stuff on there. It’s probably best I threw it away when I moved though, due to cleanliness.

Not too long ago I would try to enter a conversation like this by being humoursly self depricating. Instead I keep these thoughts to myself and choose to listen, get a sense of the vibe, and think about food.

I must be getting older.

We get back to the parking lot and Joe & Pamon make plans to venture down to the beach. I ask if they have a frisbee and they realized that’d be a good idea but didn’t bring one. They grabbed some different stuff from their very shiny Bavarian automobile, and headed off.

So then there is that part of the day when things are winding down and energy and sun dip to a lower energy, a lower amplitude. I find an orange and hope that will be a nice vitamin C jolt.
I love the smell of citrus but it makes my hands and face sticky. I don’t care at this point and devour 1/2 of it in one bite. As a formality, I offer the other mangled sticky 1/2 to my friends, which they refuse to my delight, and I finish the thing in about 10 seconds.

Tim and our hiking friend exchange information for the pictures.

I think she took most of the pictures posted below.

Thanks for checking in.

Stephen A. Thomas

Here are the pictures from the brack toe series of posts.

Click the thumbnails to view the full size pictures.