Mikie's Sweester Travels

At Heather's request, here's the blog I wrote at her computer:

Prologue.

At my sister's computer again, writing..again.
I kinda like this spot, it is of the Great Corners of Creativity
movies and photos, blogs and behemoths.
And so, two days later. but days can be months 'r seconds.
This time, they were days. maybe upwards of a week.
First of all, and I think we all know about this
one of the first great pleasures about visiting
home - is nothing less than the sheer luxurious plenty
of FOOD.

Oh glory be the days! Sprouted wheat tortillas, beans beans
hummus salsa chips and mushrooms, cheese cheese
diet coke spraying from the garden hoses,
mountains of delicious
healthy vegetarian foods!

If I were to make a list of the pleasures that ensue a visit home
it might be very boring. but we all know this list
it's about recooperation, recalibrating, rediscovering our
plainest pleasiest sources for love and happiness.
And so two days have passed. except more like a week
at least in terms of the quantity of delicious foods that have
entered and been burnt into my body.

Beginning.



I was baptised today. Because I had a breakthrough
and immersed myself in the frozen currents of
the American River off Lotus Park shores.
In the three days that I have been gone from LA
I knew I needed to explore. the countryside and the depths
of my riddle-ridden recent psyche.
and wow, it hasn't been that difficult of a pursuit
first, arriving in Santa Cruz! Nothing is more refreshing
than having all your beliefs and judgments
shattered by a truth: Santa Cruz is a very magical place
a land of miracles and love, TONS of colors!
and people. Slow, dwelling, strange and happy people.
So I surfaced in Santa Cruz after my 9 hours of Greyhound.
Candice as my copilot, we headed off into the midnight East
to gods knew where since I was at the mercies of every element
filling my senses except the one most powerful monster, myself.
By the wee hours of night we arrived in Sacramento, where
a gracious Dad waited (snoozed) patiently at my 96 year old
grandmother's house. Candice left back to cowtown, and we drove
home. up the hill, into the hills, deeper and taller the trees
become, finally curving the steep driveway, finally nestled
at Pops's place. So began my journey, when I found my Red Book.

But it wasn't the Red Book that really did it. It was a shift
in myself that shook and clunked. It was weird. but I went
with it. As I always try to do. impulses are our most important
enemies. fight them, read them, then let them win. the battles
will only get more interesting. Anyway
Last night we gathered up in the freezing lofts of
Pollock Pines to celebrate a birthday and ring in the
new Easter. Doniella's birthday. And it sang into the
night!

Heavens and mojitos kept us warm and red and
fiery, not to mention the flaming cake I drunkenly carried
to Doniella's feet.

It was magic. Like Santa Cruz is magic.

you see the change yet?
night glimmered at my eyes and ears, and finally weighed
its blankets on my chest for sleep.
and sleep we did - joey was dead and heather checked his pulse
but he grunted and Stan wanted to "get the fuck outta here"
in the purple dawn. but we slept again, and
11 finally rolled around to get us up.
Conversations between beatty's don't really happen.
at least not in the conventional
conversational way. it's more like skirmishes, many of them
little battles, small wins, many losses, few casualties and the
occasional "can't we all just TALK LESS?!!?" (Joey)
and so the car ride back from Pollock Pines was
more or less a feat in human communication.
Back at the homestead, Mom, Heather, Myself, Adie, Art, Joey
and Dad gathered foods, baskets and goodies for a picnic
at Henningsen (Lotus) Park. Matt you were missed.

Somewhere in there, I decided to publicly
take off all my clothing and jump alone into
the freezing river. It was cleansing. i was
alive! pictures were taken, and my dong was exposed.

so we hung the boxers on mom's antenna
piled into her curvy blue Honda
and zoomed away at a snail's pace!
to the rusty old sights of Coloma, Ca.

Where am I going with this. I could spend another
page or two recounting to you the rock-skipping
episodes, where joey nailed a 10-skip throw
and Adie almost nailed joey with one terrible throw
and dad asked a stranger where he got his hat
I could toil over how to describe
Adie and Arts's cynical happy wondrosity
she clings to habits but loves the new
Art's nonchalance betraying either sheer hatred
or incredulous Joy for the Beatty nutgang
I could write about Dad and me
talking away about picture and people and living

or mom and me like true mother and son
just two happy people who love living way
more than we ought to. Or Joey, man
and how rad his newest situation has become
how his adventures never cease. how he realizes
it, and how he sticks to himself like a fortified
army of creativity. It rocks. But this
wasn't meant to be a big fat poem or something
about sap. it's about discovery -
and Traveling.

I decided a long time ago that I was going to Travel
but then never actually left.

Because we never leave only live and love
closer and closer to truths that surround us.
To travel is to meet, every moment
a new impulse takes us from the outside. you cannot
plan a day of incredible things. you cannot plan anything
you can hardly even plan your own ideas, let alone
to include others. all you can do is go and pursue
thoughts and freedom, we must live carelessly
because the discovery will happen as nature goes
you cannot force something you don't know how to follow
it must follow you skipping rocks
painting pictures, eating food, making friends
driving smelling smiling singing flinging
bringing joy to your own heart - the changes will find you.
but in order to allow them in, you must travel.
take a risk. indescribable indefinitely accept
no occupation will so immediately
mold you a heart of gold than
to be a traveling vagabond out the door.
we are never alone, we are
free to roam, we hone our
skills. mountains oceans,
peoples cities kings songs galore
I love every speck of it all and more
so fill up my cup of aluring delight
with the footgrass of millions
who sing in the night

look at the stars. they're at peace. so are we.
with freedom to live and to learn, love and see.