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Hymn To Her

Well they raised that horse to be a jumper ..

Tom Myers once told me that he heard the “I was flyin'” line in Tom Petty’s Runnin’ Down A Dream song as “I was sublime.” I myself once thought the “how my poor heart aches” line in Sting’s Every Breath You Take was “I’m a pool hall ace.” This just goes to show that the observer often brings more to the table than the creator. Which brings me to Torrance, California.

Dirk Diggler was from Torrance, but he was a fictional character. The city has one of the highest concentrations of Japanese Americans in the United States. Quentin Tarantino is a Torrance High drop out. What I’ve noticed about Torrance is the abundance of strip mall restaurants with partially burnt out neon signs. “Red obsters” abound. Dad and I have been eating at the Elephant Bar, currently going by the “lent Bar,” with a few gaps between and not too far past Easter. We’ve come to the conclusion that they have a decent menu and pour a good glass of wine. We’ve also agreed that the best thing about the digital age is that it allows less latitude for poseur auteur filmmakers to blame their creative shortcomings on the film laboratory.

At some point I think I figured that my assumption that I had the best mom in the world was likely based partially on subjective reasoning. But along the way I’ve met a lot of people, many of whom have or have had mothers of their own, who’ve affirmed my opinion of her.

None of this relates much to the Marriott Residence Inn, which sits semi majestically on Torrance Boulevard at Hawthorne, fitting the So Cal landscape like words from a Petty Song. Sometimes you got to trust yourself .. it ain’t like anywhere else.

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