Aimee and Whiskey Kelly's House, LA, January 31st, 2012

Hi Guys.

Last Monday our stuff got stolen.

Everything else is a complication of that main idea, but the main theme on that Monday night was, somebody saw what belonged to us, and had a reason to take it, and took it.

So, that's an interesting idea to deal with.

There's also grief at the loss of something cared for, well used, etc. The things in this case were Amelie's camera, that she used to document her trip, and my accordion, well appreciated every day.

There's also the addition of more work and more days to the quest, when something is stolen and must be replaced. In this case it's Amelie's passport, her ID, etc, and the rest of her purse.

That about sums it up.

As for feelings, on my part they are not crushing. I put work into recovering the objects. I don't know if they will come back automatically, but I have faith. And that work I put in is therapeutic in helping settle my relationship to the accordion. It's something that I had, and now I lost, I may not see it again. I will try to, and the trying may not come to anything, and I'm satisfied with that. I could not think of a better relationship to have with something stolen.

--

the curve of our trip, in any case, took us from Ojai to, as you can see plainly, Whiskey Kelly and Aimee's house, in the hills of Silver Lake, Los Angeles. It's good coming back to the city when I have in my head the intention of carrying onwards from these days into the splendour and long-work of nature and farming. I can walk around Sunset Boulevard and hold that image in my head for contrast when I am leaning on a pitchfork in the garlic patch, the garlic patch that I love so well. I have some fantasies stemming from this. Taking a goat on a leash around the city. Selling my fruits from a basket on the corner of Hollywood and Vine. Perhaps they're just stemming from that idea that I wish the two- farm patch and city sidewalk - were not so far apart. It's like living in BC and never eating an orange because Those Come From Far Away.

I hope you liked reading that cause I can't elaborate it any more.

Next post will include some recipes from the van life. Our staples - what we eat every day- and our treats, -what we eat for special times-.

At times I do feel like our van is the beginning of a homestead.

I will leave you with a "yo hippie" joke, which is kind of like a "yo mamma" joke, except you say "yo hippie sooo dirty that" instead of "yo mamma so fat."

It goes,

Yo hippie so dirty,

when he wash his hands he jam da sink!

I hope you enjoyed.