Solstice Canyon.





A quiet, beautiful, almost private place just off the PCH. It's a lovely mile and a half walk along a path through undergrowth filled with rutting animals to the boulders and waterfalls where I clambered, desperately trying to convince myself that I was somehow still seven years old and not a million and a half years old, like I am.

Look, here's me clambering. You could be forgiven for thinking I'm stalking game from this photo', or at least doing something daring. I'll let you think that. I definitely wasn't trying to navigate my way up the waterfall without slipping on dog pooh or potato chip packets; no, I wasn't, not at all. I was exploring and stalking, like a wild man. Yes.



Note I have my hair partially tied back. I think men (or me, specifically) shouldn't tie their hair back in pony-tails as it looks well, a bit pony. So this is my compromise. It's a partial pony, favoured by French Alpine skiers. Better be a bit of a wanker who can ski than a complete tosser without any style who can't.

Of course, I could get a haircut. And aside from the fact that it would give me cause to visit the lovely Mika one more time this month, it would also mean I'd have no hair. And that, friends, would mean I'd look exactly like a right banker in all my suits.

After Solstice Canyon I ate delicious fried evilness while admiring the pacificness of the pacific. Top trumps. It took two and half hours to get home. Gots to love LA.

I went to see the Watts Towers in Watts. I tried to visit them before in January but I got lost in Watts. Not the best look for me, was that. I drove around in smaller and smaller circles trying to find my way back to the freeway, waving at all the nice young men who were enjoying the afternoon sun by communing on the street corners. It was quaint. I called my friend Rob in London as I was driving around. "I just called for a chat." I said. "I'm er, a bit lost in Watts."
"Are you scared?" he asked from the comfort of his house in south London.
"No." I said. "I just called for a chat."
"From LA to Streatham, on your mobile?"
"Yeah. So?" I kept thinking of Reginald Denny stopping his truck at the intersection of Normandie and Florence just after the Rodney King verdict. I like to class myself as English but on this day I had to admit I felt white. Sad that, isn't it? But maybe not so unusual, only unspoken in polite circles.
"Just asking." he said.


This time I didn't get lost. I liked the Watts Towers. The strangest thing about them for me was that after Simon Rodia spent 33 years building them he just upped and left them behind, I think he gave them to his mate or something. That seemed very sad.






It has been nearly a month since I got back from Vietnam. I was missing lording my inherent wealth over poor people. Can you believe there weren't any poor people here for me to gloat over? Look at this place - shameful. Not one measly beggarwoman or hungry child outside the Watts Towers. How am I supposed to prop-up my insecure personality without paupers smiling up at me as I shower them with small coins? This isn't a proper vacation, that's all I can say.



Afterwards I went to see Gwen Stefani (in concert, not at her house or anything like that. I'm not allowed to do that anymore--by law). I like Gwen Stefani - she's like a larger than life cartoon character, which I think is an essential attribute for a pop star. I wasn't expecting her manly talking voice though, that threw me a bit. I didn't get to see the No Doubt reunion and I missed What Are You Waiting For, which is my favourite, as I'm old and prefer getting into the car and out of the parking lot before seventyleventy thousand people do the same thing. I heard the song as I walked away and it reminded me of Harley, as he rings-out PA systems with that song when he's mixing shows. I was going to tell him but I read on his blog that BA had lost his luggage for days so I thought this: I bet Harley couldn't give a monkey's willy about me hearing that Gwen Stefani song from the parking lot right now, so I didn't tell him. But I was thinking of you, H. Hope you got your bags. And the home address of the guy who manages luggage for BA.

Now the Solstice has passed I enjoyed this cheery thought. From now on we're on a downward slide through to December 22nd. Days are getting shorter, life is pasing us by, winter is rushing headlong at us and soon our feeble aching bones will be shivering under bitter winds and against spiteful, driving rain.

And I'm in a good mood these days, too.