Friday, June 10, 2016

Gratitude: Part One..

Just a few little things for which I am grateful today:

Watching/Listening to my son start to form his own nuanced opinions about the world; from politics to art to science, etc.

Dimly lit diners where an older waitress calls me "honey" and brings me muddy coffee.

Hearing Vin Scully call a Dodger game and remembering listening to the same golden voice with my father and grandfather, echoing through the halls of the memory of childhood.

The magical surrealism and cinematic gorgeousness of Federico Fellini, Jean-Luc Godard, Wim Wenders, etc.

Being able to crack the mic every night on one of the world's most legendary radio stations.

Eating vegetable pakoras at Natraj.

Long stretches of desolate highway under a big bowl of stars with the perfect soundtrack oozing through the speakers.

Kenneth Koch's "You Want A Social Life With Friends," which means just as much to me Now as The Clash or The Replacements did growing up.

The opportunity to contribute in funding music and film and art projects I love.

Remembering things so beautiful that you have to thank the Deity of your choice that they even happened and that you were lucky enough to be there.

Being able to make rad playlists on spotify for almost any occasion.

The light flooding through windows in the work of Edward Hopper.

The number of people who have truly loved me and cared about my well-being. I'm so incredibly blessed and have been given so much more than I deserve in life.

Little carnivals that show up in city parks.

Being able to write smutty three line poems and bound them together in a book.

Thinking of things Sun Ra has taught me that have not so much to do with music, planets or Egyptology, but just about how to live your life.

Boba all up in my tea.

The Augustine Fellowship and all they continue to teach me about self-love.

Wandering through the streets of Los Angeles, camera in hand, searching for little slices of life too beautiful not to attempt to capture.

Being old enough to see people change.

Being old enough to see people not change.