Back Down To Earth (Such A Popular Place)

Well, I’m back in the world, back in Santa Monica, one step closer to home. All things considered, I’d rather be here than there, though. I can still see the ocean from my room. Which, while not Poipu Beach, beats 56th Street.

Anyway, Degus’ wedding day was a blast. An all-nighter, as it were. We ran a bunch of errands in the morning, including making sure we had a well-stocked cooler for the bus ride, and a fist-full of glow sticks for hittin’ the dance floor. We made a quick road trip to Spouting Horn, a blow hole a few miles from our house, jammed into our wedding clothes and headed for the bus. The wedding site was in a huge gardened park on the North Shore. The recited their vows in the sun, in a small cove, the Pacific rolling ove the beach just behind them. After drinks and a hula performance (complete, unfortunately, with “Tiny Bubbles”), we proceeded to the “Liquid Kitty” table (named for a Westwood bar we’ve all frequented at one time of another) where we took turns wearing the centerpiece on our heads, snapping dozens of Poloroids, and generally raised havock.

I spent a few minutes alone on the beach after dinner soaking in my last hours on the island, trying to make sure I’d remember it all. And then the dancing began. And Sib and I cracked the sticks. What a riot, watching the color and light spread on the dance floor. Degus and Meliss loved it. Everyone was laughing, and having a great time. Some of the lamer L.A. agent types rolled their eyes, but made sure they got their hands on the sticks, only to jam them in their pockets like totems. So I’d grab ’em back and say “Use it or lose it” and get my Pacific Coast rave on. When the dance floor got too hot, we took the scene out onto the grass where the Trade Winds were blowing cool and steady. It was magical.

And then it was over. We bussed back home, and gathered the Liquid Kitty posse (except Sibby, who uncharacteristically fell promptly asleep) for some QT on the patio. The crowd thinned some, but I stayed there on the patio all night long tracking the Milky Way, and spotting shooting stars. Around 4 a.m., as I was pounding my third Coke to stay awake, a golden crescent moon rose over the mountains to the east. Jon and I left for Lihue at 5 a.m., returned the 4×4, boarded Hawaiian Airlines flight #5 for Honolulu. By 8 a.m., I was at 36,000 feet, asleep, and heading for LAX.

It’s obviously jarring to be here, back on the mainland, back to the world. So much so that I promptly wrote a new song back here in my Doubletree Guest Suite. It’s called “Hollywood Arms.” And like the two songs I wrote on Kauai, it’s 100% earnest.

Yeah I just want to be safe and warm
Wrapped in your Hollywood arms
Yeah I promise I’ll be twice as strong
Wrapped in your Hollywood arms.

So I endeavor to hold onto the sunshine, the adventure, and the friendships that I soaked up this past week. And I wanna’ take another vacation soon. There’s a whole lotta’ world out there to discover. Life’s too short to stay inside.

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