Servants' Entrance
Today I went to the Marine Beach, since the other is not allowed. It was wonderful weather, mostly quiet. Except for the high school kids yapping about god knows what. There also seemed to be the Khaki Cartel, which was composed of about three or four high school aged boys who wore nothing but khaki pants and sat under the trees. Ah, youth.
Anyway, I eventually had to leave, and decided to leave by the back entrance. I couldn't find it when I arrived, so now was my chance. I stepped up the two and a half foot step of the concrete and proceeded into the past. When I first moved to SoCal, my very first visit to the beach was with a woman named Kim and her daughter and neice in a silver Mercedes. I barely knew the woman. She was friends with my then landlord, and made a point to show me where the landlord lived before we went to see the sun and sand. She took me to this foreign place and told me "it's a very private beach, but it's open to the public."
I loved it.
And as it turns out, it would come to mean lots of things besides being the very first beach I visited here. Who knew? So now, the task is to reclaim the beach as what it was back then: a beautiful beach that was exactly the kind of beach I wanted to visit. A beach that will never be forbidden because I own it with my entire heart and soul that has nothing to do with anything or anyone else.
So today, the clock struck the time I needed to go. And I went. I went and found the entrance of the first beach I ever saw. Vista de la Playa de la Something. My memory is so terrible these days. So I packed up, climbed up the enourmous step, and found my car by following the street signs. I became winded.
I went on with my day. Had to avoid traffic. Found a new way to the hippie chiro. Found a new way to school. It went through the ghetto. So as it turns out, today was a day of finding new ways. New entrances. New exits. Because the old ways are not allowed anymore.
I am a servant. Not good enough for the front door. I am now forced to take the back door. The servants' entrance. Sneaking in and out in such a way that no one will ever notice. Interesting exercise. But at least now I know it can be done. Before, I always thought that one must make an entrance that everyone would notice. But I have been proven wrong. I am too plain and common for the front door. I am a servant, and must use that door.
Anyway, I eventually had to leave, and decided to leave by the back entrance. I couldn't find it when I arrived, so now was my chance. I stepped up the two and a half foot step of the concrete and proceeded into the past. When I first moved to SoCal, my very first visit to the beach was with a woman named Kim and her daughter and neice in a silver Mercedes. I barely knew the woman. She was friends with my then landlord, and made a point to show me where the landlord lived before we went to see the sun and sand. She took me to this foreign place and told me "it's a very private beach, but it's open to the public."
I loved it.
And as it turns out, it would come to mean lots of things besides being the very first beach I visited here. Who knew? So now, the task is to reclaim the beach as what it was back then: a beautiful beach that was exactly the kind of beach I wanted to visit. A beach that will never be forbidden because I own it with my entire heart and soul that has nothing to do with anything or anyone else.
So today, the clock struck the time I needed to go. And I went. I went and found the entrance of the first beach I ever saw. Vista de la Playa de la Something. My memory is so terrible these days. So I packed up, climbed up the enourmous step, and found my car by following the street signs. I became winded.
I went on with my day. Had to avoid traffic. Found a new way to the hippie chiro. Found a new way to school. It went through the ghetto. So as it turns out, today was a day of finding new ways. New entrances. New exits. Because the old ways are not allowed anymore.
I am a servant. Not good enough for the front door. I am now forced to take the back door. The servants' entrance. Sneaking in and out in such a way that no one will ever notice. Interesting exercise. But at least now I know it can be done. Before, I always thought that one must make an entrance that everyone would notice. But I have been proven wrong. I am too plain and common for the front door. I am a servant, and must use that door.
posted by Ocean | 12:03 AM
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