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At 11:11 - there it is.

Always. 

Well, often anyhow.

I seem to see the clock most often when the ones are all aligned.  

Seeing it, noticing it, the repetition magically coincides with something monumental, like a strong feeling or a negative connotation or maybe a moment of silence and introspection, the end of a kiss, the start of an argument, the passing of something subtle but significant.

I thought it was just me, but it's not.  

There's a whole world of people who see the significance in those numbers, 11:11, whether it be night or day and I found the plentiful, pointless websites regarding it on the internet just now.

Coincidence - one of my favorite words.  

Coincidentally, "coincidence" is the only other word that starts with C on my still forming favorite word list.  The other, "California", is probably the largest coincidence of my entire life up to this point.  

I came here first when I was a kid, then again and again, again and again throughout my life I've come back, left, then come back again.  And here I am again or still and actually, when pressed, I imagine I'd admit, that here, quite likely, I'll remain.  

I have, like a bottle capped and filled partially with fluid tipped on it's end, then toppled the other way, flowed to and from this place, about a dozen times, more even, but I don't want to count.   Only last night, at 11:11 pm did I realize that it's the biggest, most powerful, confounding, obvious, obscure, precious, perplexing, clear coincidence of my life, this California is.

Where else does the sun set like it does here?  What other place can capture the stars, literally and figuratively and who else, but this lovely girl California could inspire the lyrics for so many great songs?  

Even the flaw of the state; the very prominent, yet better ignored center of potential disaster beneath the surface,  ever present, always troublesome, but none the less unheeded, in this pedantic state California, calls to me in particular...San Andrea's Fault.

Ironically coincidental, I'm willing to concede that yes, most of the time, it is my fault when things go seemingly astray and this can be attested to by many, actually most, who've spent any amount of their time involved with me.   A troublesome, unheeded, obscure, perplexing, precious, better ignored flaw beneath the surface of me that I can't actually realistically do a thing about and I realized coincidentally, at 11:11 last night, I wouldn't have it any other way.  

Whether 11:11 actually means a damn thing, I have no idea.  I love though that something, anything calls attention to itself and adds perhaps unwarranted intensity to whateverthehell is happening the seconds before, during and after a clock displays those four straight lines -
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