The Beginning Of Something New
Excerpted from a work in progress
Topanga, whether traveling in or out, is vaginal. It thrusts you out into the world from the secluded sanctuary of the cloistered womb and later takes you back in when your adventure is over and you’ve come home to mother earth. This time I’m being born, I am thinking, driving down the narrow winding S curves lined by sage, scrub oaks, and rocks. The weather here is balmy, cool, overcast, and moist with the ocean breeze. But I’m going to Louisiana. I’m going to be born there. I’m leaving mother Topanga and her long and narrow winding highway down from her lap, emptying out to the Pacific, slate gray, waves washing upon the shore, 7–11 gas station on my left, the red barn of the Malibu Feed Store and all the oversized stunning pieces of outdoor furniture on display next door.
I want to be reborn. I want friends. I want to visit the river where the music I play comes from. It’s ground zero for the anti-toxics, anti-plastics, and climate-change generation.
It was so late when my flight arrived at Louis Armstrong Airport — and hot, moist. But I liked it. I was completely on my own. I didn’t care how I looked or appeared.
I got a rental and began driving towards Baton Rouge. As soon as I left St. Charles parish and entered the next, St. John the Baptist, glowing orange flames and lights and silver lights filled the parish sky along the river bank. Everything glowed. The bright silver were the eyes of the distant tigers. I took the Interstate 10 and then two-lane highways, finally crossing over the river on the Sunshine Bridge, getting to the west bank.
It was three in the morning by the time I made it to the Donaldson Holiday Inn Express. Big GMC trucks parked in front. I checked in and fell asleep. I didn’t have a chance to miss anyone. God, I was on an adventure Thank you, Lord. Good night, doggies. I missed everybody. But I knew I had to do this trip. I lay in bed, finally asleep to one of the talking heads on MSNBC. They made me feel less lonely.
On Friday morning, I was exhausted. I slept till eleven Louisiana time and just tried to gather myself to get out of the bed. It was nice and cool inside my room at the Holiday Inn Express, and I could have kept sleeping. But I had to go somewhere. I wanted to see the grave site. Everybody was talking about it. But I didn’t know how many people had actually seen it. I wanted to see it.
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