The Peace of Bakersfield

roadtrip to La Paz and Bakersfield. Dwight Yoakam and Mika on the iPod. fun and spiritual fulfillment ensue. too grandiose? we visited Cesar Chavez's grave (que descanza en paz) and saw what remains of UFW dream from decades ago: La Paz, the erstwhile (i've never used that word before, i'm a dork) self-sufficient commune - endless fields of vegetables, and interactive, critical education. idealistic and doomed.
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it was real, once, we talked to someone who lived it. saw the

photos. as a commune, it has fallen into ruin, i guess, though the Chavez memorial and visitor center are beautiful. and one of the old tuberculosis wards (the whole site was once a TB hospital) is to become a hall for retreat events. we climbed hills, pondered drying pools, listened to freight trains and fraught beats. the whole experience gave us a weird sense of loss and peace.

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the night before, party at Dolores Huerta's house. That's her in the middle, this was taken at 1:30am, during a mashup of "in da club" and a merengue beat. si se puede dance to fity cent. may we shake it so when we hit 77.
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squeezed in a monster breakfast and a family barbecue. Back home, listened to Saul Williams and Mark Gonzales, live at UCLA. Talked to Mark, he lives here so we'll hang out. on the number 6 going home, listened to Dwight Yoakam, again.

I'll shine up my old brown shoes, put on a brand new shirt
Get home early from work, if you say that you love me
Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
And I want you to want me
Yeah, I need you to need me

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