Sanity...

in Los Angeles resides down Western Ave., near the big white house and Japanese hot spring; circa the 1920s. Sometimes clouded thick, obfuscating the metallic white caps -- ant-sized running lights betray the rockcodders, hauling cabezon, seabass, an occasional yellowtail. Wonder what Joey the Fisherman thinks when he spots landlubbers peering through the morning gloom. But sometimes --  it's just so damn clear. Molten gold and purple. Evanescent -- turn your back and its gone, baby, gone. So you take a picture, hoping it captures that moment of clarity and beauty. Wishing your mind was sanitized -- doused in Purel, scuttling the ugly, locking your rods and cones along the southernly horizon of San Pedro, California; Heart of the Harbor...