The Art Walk

            I hung out with my people on Saturday. There was an art walk in the neighborhood. The Moryork gallery was open which isn't always the case. I had a chance to go inside and see Clare Graham's work for the first time. I was stunned and amazed like most people who see his work. My favorite piece was a cabinet he made from Scrabble letters.
            While walking down the street I noticed a nondescript sign on a fence post. It read, "singing bowls Sunday 9 p.m." I'm a sucker for singing bowls, so I showed up last night. The place was essentially a big yard with a fire pit. There were a couple of couches and a mess of chairs around the pit. I found myself a chair and acted like I belonged. I didn't see any singing bowls. I just sat there and waited. There was a kid teaching a lady how to play the guitar and a few other people milling about. Three men showed up with drums. I figured the singing bowls were not far behind.
            The singing bowls never showed up. Instead, I found myself playing a djembe in a drum circle. And I met an old hippy woman who sells cookies at the Rose Bowl swap meet and lives in an RV. She was impressed, nearly envious, when I told her I built my own cabin under four trees.