When people think of Venice Beach they inevitablly think of the strand and muscle beach. Flexing body builders and oiled up beach babes, the name Venice Beach evokes a mental walk way down 80′s lane. Personally before I moved to Venice, the only visuals I had associated with Venice was big hair, roller blades, muscled up mans, and oh yeah the Z Boys. I’m not sure in what order of course but I know they all existed in Venice and actually still do. Especially the boys. Even if its in whispers of days gone past, the Dogtown boys are still relevant. I actually ran into one of them at sunset beach one day. I was exiting the water after a fruitless surf session. A man was holding a mama jama of a camera and I couldn’t help but inquire what he was photographing. Somehow his answered included the following: he was an original Z boy, he didn’t surf anymore, and he was snapping photos of sharks. He then proceeded to show me a photo montage on his screen of what appeared to be about an 8 foot great white breaching just off the shore from where I’d just been surfing. Awesome. I had been out surfing alone just moments before. It was small and I was the only dummy trying to make a mountain out of a molehill that day. So anyway I digress…. The point is I was talking about Venice. I am not sure why this little beach side town is so popular. I guess it exists as sort of an anomaly against the other beach side communities here. It’s a little grungy and freaky and its basically where all the “artists” come to expound on their artsiness. It’s the only place that I know of that you can get a tattoo while you wait for the doctor to prescribe you your marijuana card. Or wait, maybe you get the marijuana prescription and then the tattoo. Personally, I feel no need to get high around here. Just being here is trippy enough.. Typically, I choose to pop into my favorite local hang, Venice Ale House . Kombucha is on tap here and I prefer mine “hard” (with vodka). It is not unusual for some sort of bush man on stilts to float in and order the same. Even stranger, is that not one person will even bat an eye at him. I can nab a grass fed burger, and sweet potato un-fries ( baked in coconut oil). I Then find a spot out side to enjoy my meals and observe the dude in a devil suit drag a cross on his back up and down the strand for hours. All just part of a normal day in these parts. Amidst all of this circus I find myself seriously bewildered by how our rent for a studio in the midst of the madness is approximately the same as the mortgage was on our custom build 3500 square foot home in Norcal. What gives? I guess ultimately it comes down to the fact that people are strange and we kinda like it…
I guess the devil likes drum cirlces?
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