If I were a less-mature man, I might be sobbing uncontrollably as it came time to say goodbye to West Hollywood. Goodbye Sunset Strip, goodbye beer in legendary rock clubs, goodbye great murder and drug overdose stories.
But fortunately, I can handle it. Sort of.
Also fortunately, it’s not the end of the world because our GPS lady took us to not one beach, not two, but three beaches!
I’m not sobbing because we spent the mid-morning in Venice Beach where I got a little Habs crest tattooed on my upper arm, then a couple of hours on the Santa Monica Pier, where Michael Douglas got shot by Robert Duvall and fell over the rail in the movie Falling Down, and certainly not in Malibu where we have a motel for the night and where we walked the beach at the Colony, the row of multi-million dollar homes owned by movie stars and others with too much money, and parked our blankets and soaked in the rays right behind the house where Bruce Willis and Demi Moore used to live before things went sour.
Just my luck. If Bruce Willis and Demi Moore hadn’t divorced and still lived there, they probably would have seen me out their window, called me in, made a few phone calls, and I’d be in the movies as planned.
That’s why we went for beer after the beach. To make me feel better.
One other very exciting thing I should mention before I’m out the door is the Bob Dylan experience. Last year, when we were in Malibu for the first time, I was reading a local newspaper and there was a letter to the editor from a guy who lives next door to Dylan over in Point Dume and he was complaining that the singer has an outhouse on his property and the smell was invading this guy’s house. He said he might have to move because of the stench but the city of Malibu (and Dylan) refused to do anything about it.
A while ago when I knew we were coming down here, I contacted a Malibu blogger who told me where Dylan’s house is, and so, in the name of great blogging, I went there in the hopes of photographing the smelly outhouse. But alas, as I began my walk down Dylan’s dirt driveway with a stable of horses close by, a security guy came out of nowhere and asked me why I hadn’t read the No Trespassing sign. I said I did, I just wanted to take a picture of an outhouse, but the guy didn’t laugh, not one bit, and told me I should leave.
So I did.
But enough about my bad luck and outhouses. Here’s some photos.