The Other California

From the fog smoking, cracked egg shell islands lined with dinosaur skin Sitkas and dripping dewy daily moisture Redwoods of the northwest, the pot growing latest generation of liberals lining 101, their thumbs pointed to the sky, to the mountains clad in desert regalia, pine needle pointy big blue sky days of the western mountains, the conservationalist cacti barreling up water and holding tightly onto the highest mountains, the oldest, tallest and biggest trees, California is a wonderland of topographic possibility. Volcanos and the bluest waters of Tahoe, startup San Francisco cyclists reinventing the wheel on a daily basis and that golden bear republic watching over it all, the state is vastly more than the plastic tits and big budget bullshit movies we see as its first foot forward.

The face of California may be Hollywood, but the heart of it hums in the wide open escapes where you can still see that the real stars live in the sky, not on a film strip.

Here’s to the other California.