Ah, Venezia.

The gondoliers, the sinking buildings...oh, wait, different Venice.

Spent today riding a bike and walking around Venice. Mostly an incredible crush of las touristas, being Saturday and all. It was really nice feeling wind and being by the ocean for a good chunk of time. First time since being out here.

Boardwalk awash in hippy scent and freaks for hire. Watched some disco skaters bustin’ their best moves. And some amateur skatepunks bustin’ a two foot half-pipe. Watched a crusty old hippy playing piano, took some pictures of him—he said I couldn’t take pictures if I didn’t tip him...so I tipped him. He was pretty great, playing an old gutted upright with a custom paint job.

Rode along for a bit with a guy who was nearly being pulled by this tiny little dog, who was running three feet in front of the guy’s bike, like his life depended on it. Hellhound on my trail. Small terrier with the heart of a huge sled dog.

Talked to a guy named Tim Rudnick on the Pier for a while. He works with something called the Venice Oceanarium. Lifelong Venice resident, probably sixtyish. Described their thing as “a museum without walls” they had a little tent set up at the end of the pier telling kids about marine life, catching plankton, looking at stuff under a microscope...said they have a big grunion party coming up, when the grunion come up on the beaches to mate—and also a weekend where they set up and read Moby Dick in its entirety. Big fun.

Working out my East Coast/West Coast bias. Always thought you had to be one or the other. New York or LA. Dogs or cats. Paper or plastic...like that. Always thought I was mos’ def’ a New York person—thought you needed the extremity of harsh winters to keep your yin yanged—but, you know, I could really dig being somewhere where it’s just so freakin’ nice...most all the time. Is that so rawng?

I feel most pleasantly exhausted from all the biking. Have been way out of an exercise routine of any sort for a while. May head down for a little splashin’-around-the-pool time, then a hot bath. Or maybe just a hot bath. Damn, if this ain’t the life of Riley. (Can’t say “Thank you” enough to my lovely patrons, Beth and Thom!)