A couple months ago we went down to Big Sur to see Jonathan Richman play at the Henry Miller Library. Oddly enough I'm not really a huge fan of any of those three, yet together it made for a really beautiful weekend and I was happily surprised at how much I enjoyed it all. You know you're getting to be a snob of the worst sort when you start openly admitting that Big Sur's not your cup of tea. . . my apologies to Mother Nature, you've got a lovely daughter, this gal just requires a little more sunshine.
Still, I will not under any circumstances say it isn't absolutely gorgeous down there. Camped Saturday night at Pfeiffer Big Sur SP and rolled down to the beach via secret path to watch Grayson catch a few waves the next morning. Franklin and I wandered further and found a lovely little sitting spot made from what must have been a gigantic tree back in the day.
A spot like this might even get me into re-reading Tropic Of Cancer. Maybe.
Back up the hill and on to Sunday evening's entertainment.
All told, Jonathan Richman was great. My love for the Modern Lovers ended sometime during college and I think I just sort of shrugged him off as being too quirky and thus, annoying. Quirky he definitely is, but its this genuine weirdness that totally comes through in person in a way that doesn't in movies we won't name. He's just such a nut, so totally affected, but in a way that makes you feel like its a persona he made up all on his own and will never grow out of, because its just him. I ramble, yes, but the man made me like his music again and now says hello whenever I see him at random places like the video store, so thumbs are up.
The Library itself is also fantastic with a huge outdoor area and a great selection of books all neatly arranged on their wooden shelves. I kind of want to live there. Not in Big sur, but in the Library.
Proutys were digging it as well.
Went over to Deetjen's post-show, where Nate and Abby and Margeaux were nesting for the night. Had been wanting to see the place for a long time and it didn't disappoint.
Those are some damn precious little cabins.
Dinner at the restaurant which was also fantastic, dark and woodsy and warm.
No room at the inn, so we drank another bottle then headed out with Grayson and Allie to shack up in one of the tent cabins at Fernwood. More drinks, a little bonfire and a damn pretty 6 a.m. drive back home to round it off.
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Sur thing? I can't say it isn't lovely down there and with good company it makes for a fine, fine couple of days.