Yesterday I drove to Carpinteria, California, to record a few songs with my friend and musician Andrea Marchant.
It had been far too long since I saw the Pacific Ocean.
I’ve talked about the mystical effects these large bodies of water have on me in the past, and I’m happy to report that it still happens. I break away from Ventura (the town I’ve just come through) and suddenly I’m free on Highway 101, on the open road, windows down, breathing saltwater and casting glances westward, towards the end of the world.
For me the ocean is like one of those cheesy Claritin commercials where the the advent of said drug brings about a peeling off of a layer of translucent film, exposing a world more colorful, brilliant. Before its advent, it’s not like I was colorblind, just muted: saturation subtracted. But I spend some alone time with the deep water, and I am cured/changed.
And that’s why I can’t live by the ocean:
I never want to lose that feeling.
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