Toy Camera at Santa Monica Beach

I visited a friend at her place this afternoon and we talked for three hours. About so many things. Afterward, there was no going home. Mind restless.

I pointed the car toward the beach, uncertain if I wanted to navigate the traffic as rush hour approached. But I kept going west as I mulled the prospect of being in the sand for the sunset, considering my options right up until I pulled into the beach parking lot off Hollister.

You need almost nothing to enjoy the beach. I had a towel and three dollars for the meter. Dogs aren’t allowed, but there were many. Tongues hanging out the side of their mouths. Crooked smiles and fur ragged from racing in the waves.

The water teemed with hopeful surfers. At the pier, the ferris wheel spun out a block-letter tribute to Dolly. As night fell, the silhouettes grew more stark, the amusement park more mirage-like.

I had a toy camera the size of a pack of gum. And a drugstore digital camera. These images are what it felt like to be there.

The last time I lived in LA, I cherished my nighttime drives home from the beach. Windows and sunroof open. Wind ripping at my hair, at my T-shirt. KCRW on the radio. Tonight, the music was harder and brighter than the daytime programming. Rock candy.

Flying down the freeway, hot-red taillights zooming in unison. From behind, headlights raked the dashboard. Was I in a videogame. Or a club. Most cars were sealed up from the summer heat and the whooshing sound of speeding tires on pavement. But not mine. How amazing to feel everything.

Toy Camera at Santa Monica Beach

‘Forms of Expression’

24-ish Hours in the Hudson Valley