June 23, 2018 — It’s kind of a crazy time. Work is crazy. Everything is crazy. And in the crazy times, writing isn’t really something I want to do. I’ve watched a ton of YouTube videos though, and hopefully, when I come out of this crazy-time , I’ll have some things to write about. In the meantime, I really want a happy place.

The really crazy thing is that sometimes to get to a happy place, I need some sad songs. Weird, right? Or perhaps people do that, I don’t know.

You all know my last concert was … you know that big pop star who used to be a country star? You know her name. It’s almost impossible to find full-song videos of her concert because if you tag a video with her name, the video won’t last. And it’s not so much a song of hers I wanted, but a video of a “poem” (a monologue really, and very Lana Del Rey-esque of said pop star) about making oneself go on, the concert version. I loved the visuals of that piece at the concert. The Jaguar. The desert. It’s me right now. A depiction of me. A depiction of my Home. At least in some way.  That piece was my favorite experience at that concert; it was so personal to me.

On the drive back from Texas recently, I thought of that video — the words, the visuals. It makes me think of this place, of all that goes into it for me. When I arrived this last time, when I saw the glow of my city from afar, I talked to it. Home. And for so many reasons, I really, really going to make it so now.

So my sad poem-piece, or as much of it as I can find (this one missing the first few lines, the good one was removed because it said her name), is my first song for my happy place.

And my second, my second is simple. It’s the smile on Robert Plant’s face when he sees this little girl playing Led Zeppelin. It doesn’t get better than that.

The cover photo I took of a box that are commonplace and that someone, I don’t know who, decorates with inspirational things, sayings, paintings, a combination. That particular box is in the view of the park that leads to the Los Angeles City Hall building in the background. Our parks are looking really nice, even in downtown. And I think that box was talking to me. Home, it said. You are Home. Indeed, it could be that my city — the one I talked to when I drove in from my last trip — was actually answering me back. Put both feet firmly in, it was saying.

I know….

This story doesn’t make much sense, but some things really are just for me.