I was born in Laguna Beach. For the first few weeks of this October, I stayed in my mom's empty house on the same street we used to live when I was baby. I walked a lot of long walks down the beach and around the town.  I shot some footage for a music video experiment, took some self portraits, and kicked an addiction to watching the television program the Walking Dead because I realized I was one. It was the beginning of realizing that I had been knocked out for a few years. I knew on paper that this trip away from my life in San Francisco was a time to regain my wits. But here in this little beach town that the owner of an out of date ephemera store told me had been sacked by the bourgeoisie, I began to realize what had happened, if not what to do about it. 

These were two songs I made up in during this time by writing down quickly the pictures that immediately came to mind.  I know both are maudlin. A journal is a free therapist.