Ian Anderson 7 p.m., May 1
- Community Blog
Become OBecian… and failing at it.
“I think I should move… ” I said to my roommate while sipping the last drops of my I don’t know what number beer and ordered another pitcher. It was the end of a super long day; I killed Henrietta, my awesome ’89 Toyota Corolla that took me through some of the worst Colorado snowstorms with a broken windshield, inexistent air heater, all season tires and way more problems but still; other than the fact that my muffler felt off downtown Denver, that car never broke down more then a mile away from my house until that cold winter morning when I decided that 80 miles/hour on black ice is not speeding and there I were, looking all Halloween like with 2 black eyes rapidly forming and a pretty serious concussion, finishing another pitcher of beer. You can call me a runner, I call it God pushing me around to bigger and better things and I don’t even believe in God.
San Diego sounded perfect! After being a ski bum for a few years I was in desperate need of some warm weather; and here I was 2 weeks later, rocking my goggle tan, hot for the mountains but not so glamorous out here, while drinking margaritas on PB patios. “You will adjust, it shouldn’t be that hard. Every time when you move somewhere else you change, it’s a different you. You are still the same but with new qualities. You wasn’t a ski bum before you moved to the mountains and probably wasn’t such a smart ass/crap talker before you came to the States ” my girlfriend said and she was so right, we do change every day, we adapt to the entourage like chameleons and I have nothing against changing colors I just didn’t want to die my hair blonde and start watching Gossip Girl; and then I found OB. I will never forget that day, it was a Wednesday evening, the last night before giving up on this town and if love at first sight exists then this was it. It was exactly the way I pictured Kerouac’s books, like time stopped in 1960ies and never moved; I always knew I was a hippie in a life prior this one; it was the OB farmers market! The Peace signs, the magic busses, the music, the smell of weed, the international hostel, the hand made jewelry, the happy people and back there in the background the sand and the sunset. I’m not a hippie in this lifetime anymore and I definitely don’t do drugs but it just felt so like home, I didn’t even knew I had it in me but I knew I had to experience it all. Screw “real job” and all that crazy stuff; that can wait, I wanted to become an OBecian!
Went back to Colorado just to pack my stuff and ship them here, take a few more powder runs and close the door to that life, I was moving to Ocean Beach! My new home was a couch in the living room of an acquaintance on Muir; the evening when I arrived he was at work but left the key in his wetsuit pocket on the porch, I thought it doesn’t get any cooler then that! I couldn’t stay in that night, I was so anxious to discover it all, to breathe that air, to experience it all over again. I went down the street, the “OB smell” was everywhere; it was weird but sort of pleasant. People where drinking on their porches, guitar music every few houses. Got to the beach and walked in the sand, the sound of the ocean, the bonfires… I was alone and I absolutely loved it, nothing bothered me, all of my worries went away, I was content for the first time in a very long time, I reached the Zen! The next morning me and my new roommate went and had breakfast, I decided to be vegetarian since I wasn’t planning on getting dreadlocks or start smoking pot that just seamed the easies way towards becoming an OBecian. Later that day went for a run and got to the Sunset Cliffs, other than the disgustingly cute couples that thought that they were in “Loverland” I couldn’t believe my eyes how beautiful and how serene it all were. I was waiting to wake up any minute. And all that lasted for a couple of months: coffee on my porch; hanging out at the beach with my books; sunset runs; fish tacos from South Beach; cold beers from Sunshine&CO; late night pizza from Newport Pizza; awesome bands at Winstons; absolutely wasted nights at Lucy’s; farmers markets etc I moved into the perfect beach house on Voltaire in between Tilted Stick and Lucy’s. I started dating a neighbor and I felt in love with his dog. Bought a beach cruiser. The time stopped and it was perfect. I can completely understand why there is so many bums by the beach, it’s awesome out here, why leave? It was chill and I liked it, but life goes on and it feels like if I won’t leave now, I will never leave. I failed as an OBecian, my vegetarian diet lasted about a week, I still don’t smoke pot and I still don’t own a pair of skateboard shoes. I just came back from a bike ride around this little paradise island; it’s my last night in town and it feels like breaking up with somebody I still love. But maybe this is just the right thing to do or maybe not, who knows? I love you OB, let’s be friends!