WHAT WAS THEN WILL NEVER BE AGAIN. SUCH IS LIFE AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE BECAUSE TIME CANNOT BE STOPPED. THE TONS OF CONCRETE REVOLVING LIKE THE EARTH ON ITS AXIS, THE BIG TRUCK DUMPED IT ON THE SHORE, THE BEACH AND OVER OLD PIER PARTS, OLD FOUNDATIONS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE SIDE BY SIDE, OLD WORLD CONVERSATIONS ON OLD BENCHES, ON OLD FOUNDATIONS, OLD PIERS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE BEGUN BY OLD WORLD IMMIGRANTS. IN TIME THE OLD WORLD LANGUAGES, CAFES AND MARKETS WERE GONE, DISAPPEARED ALONG THE BEACH TOWNS FROM SANTA MONICA AND VENICE TO MANHATTAN BEACH, REDONDO BEACH AND HERMOSA BEACH, ALL THE LITTLE SOUTH BAY CITIES THAT SURRENDERED TO THE CONCRETE COMPANIES, REAL ESTATE SCHEMES AND OTHER CITY LAWS UNWRAPPED OR TOSSED INTO THE DEEP BEYOND THE SHELF. IT WAS OVER; IT HAD BEEN KIND OF LIKE THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE BEACH CITIES. THEY ARE GONE NOW AND ARE REMEMBERED BY NAMES ONLY BY A FEW ARTISTS AND BARTENDERS, A FEW GROCERS AND SHOPKEEPERS, A FEW WRINKLED AND CRINKLED SURFERS, A GENERATION OF BABES ALMOST GONE NOW. YOUR RELATIVES AND MINE LOST IN TIME. THOSE PIN-UP LADIES WHO FIRST WORE THE BIKINIS OF THE 50S, THE HOT BLONDE AUNTS. AND HARRY THE LIQUOR STORE OWNER GRINS, STILL SMOKING HIS CIGAR, SOMEWHERE. IT WAS A DIFFERENT KIND OF SUNSHINE THEN.
Showing posts with label LIQUOR STORE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LIQUOR STORE. Show all posts
Monday, January 28, 2008
THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE SOUTH BAY BEACH TOWNS
WHAT WAS THEN WILL NEVER BE AGAIN. SUCH IS LIFE AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE BECAUSE TIME CANNOT BE STOPPED. THE TONS OF CONCRETE REVOLVING LIKE THE EARTH ON ITS AXIS, THE BIG TRUCK DUMPED IT ON THE SHORE, THE BEACH AND OVER OLD PIER PARTS, OLD FOUNDATIONS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE SIDE BY SIDE, OLD WORLD CONVERSATIONS ON OLD BENCHES, ON OLD FOUNDATIONS, OLD PIERS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE BEGUN BY OLD WORLD IMMIGRANTS. IN TIME THE OLD WORLD LANGUAGES, CAFES AND MARKETS WERE GONE, DISAPPEARED ALONG THE BEACH TOWNS FROM SANTA MONICA AND VENICE TO MANHATTAN BEACH, REDONDO BEACH AND HERMOSA BEACH, ALL THE LITTLE SOUTH BAY CITIES THAT SURRENDERED TO THE CONCRETE COMPANIES, REAL ESTATE SCHEMES AND OTHER CITY LAWS UNWRAPPED OR TOSSED INTO THE DEEP BEYOND THE SHELF. IT WAS OVER; IT HAD BEEN KIND OF LIKE THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE BEACH CITIES. THEY ARE GONE NOW AND ARE REMEMBERED BY NAMES ONLY BY A FEW ARTISTS AND BARTENDERS, A FEW GROCERS AND SHOPKEEPERS, A FEW WRINKLED AND CRINKLED SURFERS, A GENERATION OF BABES ALMOST GONE NOW. YOUR RELATIVES AND MINE LOST IN TIME. THOSE PIN-UP LADIES WHO FIRST WORE THE BIKINIS OF THE 50S, THE HOT BLONDE AUNTS. AND HARRY THE LIQUOR STORE OWNER GRINS, STILL SMOKING HIS CIGAR, SOMEWHERE. IT WAS A DIFFERENT KIND OF SUNSHINE THEN.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
PHOTO LOVE POEMS FOR LOVERS ONLY
W
E LOVED EACH OTHER FROM THE MOMENT WE MET, ONE DAY IN LATE FALL OF THAT YEAR IT SNOWED ALMOST EVERYDAY UNTIL THE FIRST OF APRIL, SO MUCH SNOW, SO MUCH SNOW AND NO SNOW SHOVEL, REMEMBER? REMEMBER HOW MANY TAXI DRIVERS LEFT TOWN BECAUSE THEY CLOSE THE CAMPUS DOWN AND THE ONLY LIQUOR STORE IN TOWN RAN OUT OF VODKA FIRST, THEN COLD DUCK, BUT WHO REALLY CARED? NOT US, WE HAD EACH OTHER AND A CELLAR FULL OF BOOTLEG RUM AND THUNDER ROAD MOONSHINE, TWENTY SACKS OF PORTLAND CEMENT, FIVE FIFTHS OF OLD GRANDAD, SEVEN GALLONS OF FOUR ROSES, A KEG OF BLATZ, SEVEN MOGAN DAVID TABLE WINES, RAILROAD CHINA FROM THE LANDLORD'S UNCLE NOBODY KNEW WE HAD. TWO DOZEN BUTANE LIGHTERS, ENOUGH OVERDUE CAMPUS LIBRARY BOOKS TO KEEP US READING IN DAYLIGHT AND MAKING LOVE BY THE FIREPLACE, REMEMBER? REMEMBER THAT WAS THE WINTER THE CAT HAD KITTENS UPSTAIRS UNDER THE GUEST BED NOBODY EVER USED. WHAT YEAR WAS THAT ANYWAY MY DEAR? WHAT YEAR WAS IT WHEN WE STOPPED DRINKING AND DIED OF BORDOM ANYWAY?
E LOVED EACH OTHER FROM THE MOMENT WE MET, ONE DAY IN LATE FALL OF THAT YEAR IT SNOWED ALMOST EVERYDAY UNTIL THE FIRST OF APRIL, SO MUCH SNOW, SO MUCH SNOW AND NO SNOW SHOVEL, REMEMBER? REMEMBER HOW MANY TAXI DRIVERS LEFT TOWN BECAUSE THEY CLOSE THE CAMPUS DOWN AND THE ONLY LIQUOR STORE IN TOWN RAN OUT OF VODKA FIRST, THEN COLD DUCK, BUT WHO REALLY CARED? NOT US, WE HAD EACH OTHER AND A CELLAR FULL OF BOOTLEG RUM AND THUNDER ROAD MOONSHINE, TWENTY SACKS OF PORTLAND CEMENT, FIVE FIFTHS OF OLD GRANDAD, SEVEN GALLONS OF FOUR ROSES, A KEG OF BLATZ, SEVEN MOGAN DAVID TABLE WINES, RAILROAD CHINA FROM THE LANDLORD'S UNCLE NOBODY KNEW WE HAD. TWO DOZEN BUTANE LIGHTERS, ENOUGH OVERDUE CAMPUS LIBRARY BOOKS TO KEEP US READING IN DAYLIGHT AND MAKING LOVE BY THE FIREPLACE, REMEMBER? REMEMBER THAT WAS THE WINTER THE CAT HAD KITTENS UPSTAIRS UNDER THE GUEST BED NOBODY EVER USED. WHAT YEAR WAS THAT ANYWAY MY DEAR? WHAT YEAR WAS IT WHEN WE STOPPED DRINKING AND DIED OF BORDOM ANYWAY?
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