I looked to the direction of where I lived, then up and around me, at the lighted bushes and somber sand colored concrete, to the distant fast food attendant and my radio. The music was playing. I looked down at my steering wheel like I'd lost a son a long time ago. A song came on that talked about opportunity. I sighed, turned the keys and drove away from home.

Streets flipped by as I inched along the pacific coast. I could feel sand between my toes intermingled with old shoe leather. A delusion told me to turn left onto Redondo Beach after 20 blocks somewhere. I didn't bother at first and pushed forward, cresting over hill humps in the road, dodging left to backstreets of oaks and homes hand-crafted for the rocks there. Eventually I swung out and around, going back to where I could turn right onto Redondo Beach. My car swished along two lane streets, curving around an elegant 'u' way while parking signs marked "7 dollars" and tired black men glanced at me. I parked two blocks away next to a home from a fairy-tale; it even had a cat guarding it later on.

The first time I looked out over the ocean and saw the Redondo Beach boardwalk was calming. The wind had been up all day and I was dress in black, no coat. I pushed a hand into one pocket and strolled along a railed walkway above the beach and rollerblade sidewalk, passing groups of quiet people, laughing people, some just getting out of cars, some casually rubbing one another.

I was just up to the boardwalk's back entrance when I looked to the left. The upper left part of the docks jutted out, fluorescent lights dipping into clear emerald green and jade layers of water. I passed by a club dedicated to fat women and lovers of fat women. There were plush restaurants and clubs with people set in colors like America in the 1930's. Paths intersected, shops dropped off to beach and beach levelled into irridescent whipsering water. The wind had picked up and gotten much colder near the ocean, and I kept thinking if anyone reasonably cute asked if I was cold/nuts I could say 'yes, chilled like champagne but not frozen like dinner'. I need to stop thinking movie scripts can happen.

As I passed through the central hubs of gatherings, the path extended out like teeth along the right side of the boardwalk. I stood in the right corner (molar?) for a long time listening to the waves crash against rocks. For a second when I looked at the rail, I thought how complete it'd be to jump into the water and have it end at that.

I wish I could have shown it all to you; I must have thought that way 40 or 50 times, trying to mentally set up the angle when I saw something spell-binding. What amazed me most were the fisherpeople, nearly a hundred of them just huddled next to each other, or standing and talking as their polls just sat on their arses.

It was all surreal, mystical actually. I walked around as if it were a dream. The best music that comes to mind is in "Dark City" whenever the protagonist runs across a 'Shell Beach' advertisement. Somehow I was there, not bent by any plan, peson or real goal. It felt like life without any of the attachments, as if the boardwalk were the known universe surrounded by dark matter.

When I made it back to the car, I looked at that fairy-tale house again. I had a strong compulsion to move closer, but then I reasoned I could just come back. I can go back there any time I want to, right? I guess I'm still getting used to independence; at least driving isn't a pain anymore.

The rest of the weekend faded into writing story snippets for an online group and a fog of other things. All that mattered was that I went out somewhere on friday.

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