Drakes Beach, a mile down the cliff from where I live:
Sculptured Beach, a little more isolated (a hike-in only):
Later addition:
I talked with Elizabeth for the first lengthy time in a while this afternoon amid the beer/chili/salsa fest (which my stomach is already gurgling a little over); her redefinition of me attempting to tan was "turning a darker shade of pale." I feel inarticulate because I couldn't describe California's weirdness and its difference from Portland's weirdness . . . maybe she's just right and everywhere's weird. People certainly didnt turn car husks into graffiti'd organic gardens in Macon, though. Or fly rotorcraft around festivals for the hell of it. Or drive around with a car souped up like a monstrous foam neon worm float. I guess it's just the type of people? This is probably the first time I haven't lived in a fairly conservative environment. The craziest I can remember is Dave Tarbell wearing a tube sock over his dangly bits freshman year at Wooster, or anything Ben Baldwin has ever done. Or Eric's Dark Side of the Moon car with bobble-head emporium on the front dash. But I'd call that crazy, not necessarily weird. Comments are welcome.