Pili Kai Lua

Hello from the beach!

Down at the shore hut, been here for some glorious days with much more to come.
Beach is a bit windy today, but just my luck I've found internet access right on my patio!
Been deprived fro a few days now, but it's nice to get away from all things technology related.

Our house, Pili Kai Lua is just as lovely. Bumble Bees have been torturing me on the deck with my 11am coffee.
No worries, Labor Day will take them away as quick as they came.
"Lua" reminds me of Bright Eyes and his old addiction song. Had that playing here on LBI three years ago.

Just finished Pattie Boyd's "Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton, And Me" autobiography/memoir.


Fabulous. I loved hearing about Harrison's prayer routine with Maharishi and the gang.
Brian Epstein's death gets sadder and sadder every time I read about it.
What a fabulous rock lifestyle, but what do you show for it?
"Something" & "Layla"...that's enough for me, and should be for every other female on this planet.

I was a mini-muse: short-lived, never famous for both the musician and the muse. Any song(s) one has written about them can be painful to listen to. Watching others praise the artist, but have no idea who or what the inspiration was can be hell. Sometimes you just want to shout out, "That's me!". Other moments you relish in the fact that no one knows the true you, and pat yourself on the back for maturing and growing...maybe successfully avoided 'caring' too. In retrospect, the muse's interpretation is most likely different than the one projected. A moment in time, a feeling described over three minutes, can never amount to more than an evening with the creative process as your company. A song is just a space encapsulated, kidnapped and played on repeat so one can live in the past. It's torture and beauty combined: ultimately, for me, leading to unwarranted confusion.

[What's funny- and I'm adding this little blurb in after thinking about this post-is that I have muse's too. Except, unlike my personal experience, they don't know who they are. I mean not everything I write is inspired by a person, but some pieces, or thoughts within a piece are definitely inspired by someone. The fun part is they have no clue, and it's much more devilish to maintain that secrecy. If someone asks, I'll tell (I'm all about explaining my work); but for now they can live in ignorant bliss.]

Muse is such a pretty word. I think of seashells and waves when I hear the word. I immediately associate the word with a siren from Ulysses. Warhol and Dali's females were like goddesses, trapped in their little bubble but gorgeous and inspiring to the Zeus of their time. Every muse is gentle and wave-worthy.