Stiff breeze blows in the wind, windy windows kiss my face with cold
cheeks of ice-eating children, white-gray sky, a wafting-down falling
brown needle out by the clattering paperbox chunked by the man in
the temporary hooded gray sweatshirt, unshaven, pursued by an
unrelated dog at the end of a line held by another unshaven — this is
the carless Sunday morning parade in the wetsidewalk smokemorning,
the west widewalks, we're in the mountains and the clouds are full of
snow here in the suburban flatlands, the eucalyptus hedgerow country
of pale rednoses sucking eucalyptus eucharists — the wind whips
whispering ages past, passing through too fast to enword and pin
down, they dance poltergeist sprites pirouette out from visionspotlights
which only enhances their ellusional illusive eldritch beauty. Cleansky,
pollution washed down by drops, pollution running in the gutters,
down into the cloacae clean, not hanging suspended in the
windwashing the corruption and dreyedust out of this apartment and
blowing into it the inspiring promise of enterprise mornings wholly
accepted in youngerdays.
    I feel the shouts of youngerselves echo like crows from their living
spaces, their retained places, from behind retention walls, there
enacting their thing, how many universes have I given birth to — tons!
Infinspiration. Each observation changes the experiment, sends
particulate dimensions spiraling in all directions in the cloud
chambers, threatening the cold observer with dementians,
demonshuns, diminuations...has anybody yet connected the spiral
patterns of particle physics with the spiral patterns of aboriginal
artists with the spiral patterns of deep-sea organism feces with the
spiral formation of the Labryinth? To my knowledge, you saw it here
first.
    You know, this is the cleanest air I've smelled in a long time. The air
was clean like this in Grants Pass. In the carcountry. The cleanair out
there must be what's at the bottom of that sensation I remember so
vividly of suddenly losing tension and torsion and intention and left
with only feelinggood, out on the Cambria roads through the grasses.
This is what the air normally would smell like here in the Valley, what
it smelled like 500 years ago, before we showed up importantizing
ourselves.
    The air out on the balcony is astoundingly fresh, cold, intoxicating,
mountain air, air full of youth and high spirits and sunshine. The
snowbones of clouds swept away showing an fandancer aquamarine
sky above the dripping trees and bushes and cars covered with beaded
coins of water, and the dark asphalt dries in irregular crackchunks the
size of pancakes, and Dart, whom I just talked to, was on his way
walking to IHOP with his wife.
    My hunger for this air can mean only one thing. I am living in the
wrong place. This is the air of sportsmornings, tripmornings,
golfmornings, lakemornings. Vacationmornings. This is the air of
natural wilderness, of craggy vast wildplaces that put the tremblin
fear of fuckandgone into your basic urbanite. Cavemen and indians
brothe this air. This is the air that lunged through the earth for
billions of years, and yet this also's perfumed with the piquance of
human beings — so I have to put my irritons in abeyance. Good
negative ions combine with them and render them inert, bearing them
like dead plankton skeletons out through the house and out the
exhaust window in the living room, while I type here by the inhaust
window, where the air comes in my haus.
    This is the Air of Best Days, and while I want to gorge on it and
breathe it forever, I know it won't last. And yet one lungful, and I am
cured of disease and immune from harm. The cool zephyr driven by the
jetstream, the wetstream, the weststream, over the apartment
complexes, rending apart our mental complexes and uniting our
balances awhile — coming from its battery bank of white, a roll on the
west hills, which perhaps will bring more rain.
 

Marine Forecast - Point Mugu, CA
COASTAL MARINE FORECAST
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE OXNARD CA
230 AM PST SUN NOV 8 1998

SYNOPSIS...AT 09Z...A COLD FRONT EXTENDED
SOUTHWEST FROM A 1006 MB
LOW OVER IDAHO THROUGH THE SANTA BARBARA
CHANNEL. THIS FRONT WILL
MOVE SLOWLY SOUTH ACROSS THE COASTAL
WATERS TODAY WITH INCREASING
NW FLOW BEHIND THE FRONT TONIGHT.

INNER WATERS POINT MUGU TO SAN MATEO POINT
INNER WATERS SAN MATEO POINT TO MEXICAN
BORDER 230 AM PST SUN NOV 8 1998

.TODAY...WIND S TO SE 10 TO 15 KT WITH 2 FT WIND
WAVES. SWELL SW 4 FT. SCATTERED SHOWERS.
.TONIGHT...WIND S TO SW 10 TO 15 KT
EARLY...BECOMING W 15 KT WITH LOCALLY HIGHER
GUSTS OVERNIGHT. WIND WAVES 2 FT. SWELL SW 4
FT. SCATTERED SHOWERS...DIMINISHING OVERNIGHT.
.MON...WIND W 15 KT WITH LOCALLY HIGHER GUSTS.
WIND WAVES 2 FT. SWELL SW 3 FT. A SLIGHT CHANCE
OF MORNING SHOWERS SOUTH.