What a difference, well, three hours or so make.

On the way to my gig in Santa Barbara at 10:30 this morning, the ocean and skyline were two flat panels, creating the perfect 90 degree angle meeting at the horizon. The upper sky was flat, grey metal, which faded into where the horizon met the water as a thick, charcol pencil fresh bruise of a line.

The water was almost translucent, shimmering between pale green and silver -- until about 50 yards from the shore, where it transitioned into a rich, murky brown.

All was still.

On the way home, at 2:00, I looked over at the same expanse and dude! Roiling green waters were slamming into brown, mixing furiously and burbling with whitecaps almost out to aforementioned deep purple line, which by now had now melted forth toward the shore, creating almost a platform out in the distance. The only place that appeared calm was that platform.

As I neared Ventura, winding around the curves of the coast, the rain began in earnest. No spritz to start with, I drove straight into a wet wall of greyness. All surreal imagery in the ocean was obliterated.

Wet. Grey. Everything.