Strange Things That Way Went.....

Carl Jung himself would've been intrigued and a little warm in his heart over the synchronistic happenening that happened while I was in Santa no Fea last week. A new friend and I decided to have a pow wow and discuss all things coincidental and throw around opinions regarding 2012 and our impressions on the subject. Two of my favorite topics. Buh-ring it!

The trickster himself inserts his synchro ways into my world on an almost daily basis, but sometimes the scope of the moment is pretty intense and one for the record books. The following is just one of those time warping humdingers.

Way back in 1992, I flew the coop and drove my 19 year old (naive know it all) ass down south to Los Angeles from Northern California. Stars in my eyes, defiance tangled up in my permed hair and hope running through my veins, I barged into the City of Angels. Hahahahahahaaahahah! Yea. Hahahahahaha.

Sitting at my brothers place with freedom singing ants in my pants, I scanned the L.A. Times every day for a cheap place to rent closer to my job (in West L.A.). BINGO! I almost didn't believe my eyes...."$200 a month plus utilities in Westwood." I made the call, made the drive, wrote the check and moved into 612 Landfair within a week. One caveat. 612 Landfair is a fraternity house. In the summer they sublease rooms out to subsidise cashflow. Smart. So, there I was all subsidicey.

I met my very best friend (to this day) Tenya my first night there. I kissed cute boys. I ate primarily out of a microwave (godforsaken raviolis and cup o' soups). I celebrated my 19th birthday there. I counted cockroaches. I fell in love with reggae and The Clash and Lou Reed. I hunkered down and learned how to survive all alone with little to no safety net. I grew my wings at that house. 612 Landfair was a huge jumping point for the rest of my adult life. Not too many days have gone by since that I don't think about my time spent in that big ol' hizzy.

Now, fast forward 16 years. Swirling conversations spiral around and around in Santa Fe creating more and more spacious fascination. Finally:

Me: "What year did you move to L.A.?"

Rich: "1995"

Me: "Really, I lived there from 1992-1994, what part of L.A. did you live in?"

Rich: "Westwood"

Me: "Westwood! I lived in Westwood, on Landfair!"

Rich: "612 Landfair?!"

Me: "NO FUCKING WAY! No Way! You lived at 612 Landfair? It was a frat house! You lived there!!! Holy shit! What are the chances? Are you sure? What did the house look like?

(*note, L.A. being a gigantoid metropolis makes this all the more nutthouse-y)

Rich: "Sigma Pi fraternity house. Big huge two story house. I transferred there from Michigan. I'm serious!!!! (were both laughing hysterically).

Me: (holding back tears of awe) "I mean, seriously. This is fucking crazy."

Things converge and collide in the coolest ways in Santa Fe. I think these sorts of rip roaring things happen wherever we roam. Keep those eyes and hearts open peeps.

The stories are always unfolding and growing and golden thread weaving.

Ojo Caliente

Chasing the sun over Arizona. Yes, I was counting bolts making sure none were missing. Freak.

Delirious sunset.

More tales from Santa Fe coming soon.