In the 80s, I spent a fair amount of time in Los Angeles, in Manhattan Beach
It was a good time, a bad time, a lot of hard work for (now through the prism of history)
very little or no reward but a time of many interesting moments and reflections and interventions...
like this one.... text actually written back then....
Christmas Day, Los Angeles, 1988
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ONLY TUESDAY IN THE LAND OF AUTUMN
It's windy today.
The waves are being swept high into the air; crashing down on the pock-marked sand - sending gulls
spluttering off in all directions.... the odd feather left spiraling... til I brush it out of the way...
I see that that the little squawkers have settled into the grooves of my footsteps in the sand (one way
of covering my tracks, I smiled)...
Sad little California beach.
Where have all the people gone?
It's not the season for people.
The one I want isn't here. I roam the sand in exile... my kingdom of nothing.
I call upon my subjects... hey! get your beaks out of the garbage cans.... I'm talking to you!
Lift yourselves into the sky.
Do something useful.
It's Christmas.
I throw a rock at them...
they scurry off into the horizon...
Smoking a cigarette at a boardwalk cafe, I could see the empty bodies of the California people...
identical heads... empty of anything useful to anyone; what could they possibly be talking about? My
cynicism thrives in cold weather, doesn't it? The Mexican beer slid down my throat. I hated myself. I
liked it better when I didn't know anything.
The last surfers were straggling up the beach; boards in hand.
Sun's about to set. Time to go home.
Something hits my head and bounces onto the table.
It's an ugly green and silver Christmas tree ball!
Stupid gulls.
Always showing off.
Ralph Alfonso
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