If I could do it all over again, or at least this part of it, and by that I mean the time that I went to California and rented a car and drove from Los Angeles to Ojai. I thought that I would move there, meaning out West, and start fresh and it would all be better in that bit of paradise that slumbered under clear blue skies occasionally dotted by puffy white clouds drifting lazily towards the green curves of low hills which at times appeared almost to spill forward into a hazy infinity. On the drive back to LAX where I planned to catch the earliest flight back East, I erroneously exited onto a unmarked road which quickly turned from paved asphalt to rock and shake, to a dusty dirt road, unlit and unmarked. On the side of the road crouched a young Hispanic girl, partially wrapped in a shawl, who stuck up her thumb at my approach, undoubtedly hoping for a ride. I did not stop to give her a lift, perhaps out of fear, or a selfish desire to not get involved, maybe an unwillingness on my part to break from the script I had already envisioned which included my less than triumphant return to DC. I prefer not to dwell on regrets, to instead focus on the things that I can change, yet this image, and the memory of the incident, continues to play against my conscience when I least expect it. And I thought that perhaps it was time to share this, maybe in the hope of moving beyond one of the moments when I lost sight of my more noble self. I am sure that you will all understand, or at least give me the space to get it off my chest (since we are all now involved in the process of editing and creating a simpler life). Thanks...
Have a great weekend.
Today's soundtrack is THE DINING ROOM's M. DUPONT (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhhBxgZFu6M)