Of course we had to go to the beach. The next morning, er . . . afternoon, we headed over to Will Roger's beach. It was great.
When I found my love for the ocean and beach in San Francisco, it was something of a dark and terrible love. I found the ocean expansive and liberating, and at the same time terrifying and potentially destructive. I could feel myself being sucked in by the sirens of the broad blue-grey sea, a song of promise of liberation and possibility, and was frightened of being submerged and crushed under the heavy surf, or worse of just choosing to plunge myself to my own annihilation in its cold, shark-infested depths. It was a chilling love. I have only shared these feelings with Tai.
I found the beach in L.A. to so much gentler and happier. It's rolling waves seemed to beckon a reverie of meditation; the sound of surf setting a rhythm like a metronome and a fullness of sound like the singing bowls my friends and I used to use in the mountains of Utah. The sun was happy and the sand warm. I was delighted to see people playing games and families riding bikes.
After spending about two and a half days attached at the hip with Shane, I needed a break from people and took a walk down the beach.
I was amused by the preening swimwear of the tanning gay men of Will Roger's, but more than anything I was relieved to have some time to make a meaningful connection with the Creator. Surrounded by people, I had little time for prayer and contemplation, and I needed some time to get centered.
I was so grateful for that time on the beach, and I was grateful to discover a different character to the sea. I also found the most beautiful piece of sea glass and an intricate, beached sea plant. I returned the fragment of plant to the ocean and kept the glass as a souvenir.
After the beach, we had margs and Mexican at a beachside restaurant and headed back to the apartment for some snooze time. Well. I snoozed. And that may have been my cervical undoing. The night before, Shane and I had to share one couch and it threw a serious crick in my neck. I think that second visit to couch slumber did it all in. It's four days and many applications of Ben-Gay later, and my neck is still killing me. I guess your mid-20's are for realizing its time to start taking care of yourself.
So. We had the Mexican and a siesta and then went to the Abbey. The largest club have ever been to. Period. It was also to nicest gay club I have ever been in, with various themed rooms. It was definitely THE place. You kind of just have to see it. But I will say two things: lots of hotties of both the male and female persuasion (all lipstick lezzies feel free to flee here) and (for a guy who does not like fruity drinks) a REALLY good berry martini.
The night wrapped up with our second game of Scrabble that day (Shane and I make a pretty good Scrabble team, I think) and a 2 am hunt for a 24 hour Walgreens for some Icy Hot (settled for Ben-Gay (no wise-ass remarks, please)).