the dragon at the end of the pier.

have you seen the dragon and boat at the end of the santa monica pier? do you know its secret? shhhhhhhh. let others discover for themselves.

santa harmonica pier.

these photos are for reid, because i promised him i'd put some up for him. it only took me a year after i took them :)



i used to spend a lot of time on this pier, because i worked just up on broadway, next to all the old nana's, at texas hotel records (anyone remember that place?). i think it's now a merrill lynch office block. but back in the days when the third street outdoor mall was dying, the santa monica place (pink mall) was new, and like, you didn't want to be walking around there at night, i used to spend all my time down there. there was something magical about the light, the breeze, the fog...and sleepiness. beautiful and decrepit all at the same time.



now of course, it's all cleaned up and gentrified. there's still a large homeless population, but for the most part, the streets are clean, and the place is thriving. however, i'm glad to see that there's still a bit of the loucheness and everyman on the pier. people fishing (!), playing hooky, acting a bit surly, shady, and hungover.





my friend, caroline, recently had her bag stolen while she was playing air hockey. from between her legs. the nerve! secretly, i think the guy was just looking up her skirt, and saw a more profitable opportunity. really, the little amusement park and arcade on the pier could be in the middle of hollywood, it's so suspect.





but the carousel is as charming as ever, and on a bright breezy day, there's nothing like the sun sparkling off the water, and watching the children play in the sand.



i once saw a barefooted miss get a jaywalking ticket in front of the store. i think the police thought she was homeless, so they asked us to vouch for her, so we did. i think of a song that girl that she was once wrote when i look back on these photos:

I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand,
sing of a lover's fate sealed by jealous hate
then wash my hand in the sea....

Holidays must end as you know.
All is memory taken home with me:
the opera, the stolen tea, the sand drawing, the verging sea,
all years ago.