Story Already Written in San Diego, CA

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DECEMBER 12, 2012

“Here by the sea and sand,
nothing ever goes as planned.

I just couldn't face going home
it was just a drag on my own.
They finally threw me out.
My mom got drunk on stout.
My dad couldn't stand on two feet,
as he lectured about morality.
Now I guess the family's complete,
with me hanging round on the street
Or here on the beach.

The girl I love
is a perfect dresser,
Wears every fashion.
Gets it to the tee.
Heavens above,
I got to match her.
She knows just how
she wants her man to be.
Leave it to me.

My jacket's gonna be cut slim and checked.
Maybe a touch of seersucker with an open neck.
I ride a G.S. scooter with my hair cut neat.
I wear my wartime coat in the wind and sleet.

I see her dance
across the ballroom.
UV light making starshine
of her smile.
I am the face.
She has to know me,
I'm dressed up better than anyone
within a mile.

So how come the other tickets look much better?
Without a penny to spend they dress to the letter.
How come the girls come on oh so cool,
yet when you meet 'em, every one's a fool?

Come sleep on the beach.
Keep within my reach.
I just want to die with you near.
I'm feeling so high with you here.
I'm wet and I'm cold.
But thank God I ain't old.
Why didn't I ever say what I mean?
I should have split home at fifteen.
There's a story that the grass is so green,
What did I see?
Where have I been?

Nothing is planned, by the sea and the sand.”

- Peter Townsend, Sea and Sand

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Bags packed.  Got it down to an 18-pound book bag this time.  Car is in storage.  In La Jolla of all places. 

Reading. Reflecting, Writing.  Trying to process all that has happened these last few weeks on the road.  Looking for closure that most certainly will not come by the short passage of time and accumulation of frequent flyer miles I’ll get from this flight to Michigan I’m on right now.  In only two weeks I’ll be off to Sri Lanka and beyond. 

Can’t slow down.