Life in the City of Angels: My Name is Authanyas and this Hopper Bopper

“Don’t offer me money for Hopper Bopper, we realize everybody is in debt, please no sympathy we are okay.”

 

Life in the City of Angels: Biding Time with Colors

green

Green is the color of prosperity and abundance, of finance and material wealth. It relates to the business world, to real estate and property. Prosperity gives a feeling of safety to green.

Waiting for a new lease on life, Bob sits in the late afternoon light to stay warm. Taking a break from reality, Bob looks for geometric colors with complex designs in flowers, and the shades of grays from long shadows that lean on the buildings around him. Bob then begins to count the color of shoes of passing pedestrians. So far the color brown is leading the pack with a pair of Nike neon yellow shoes coming in last.

Life in the City of Angels: Find Your Speed, Maintain Your Velocity, Keeping it Up and Keep it Consistent

Find-Your-Speed“Holy shit man ! My legs are killing me and I hate these fuck’ing crutches, I’m sick and tired of this bullshit man !  Where the fuck did my life go?  Believe it or not, I was young man once, full of piss and vinegar, wild hair and just fuck’ing crazy at times, but that was when I was a young man once. I stole motorcycles, drank beer before I was 16 and howled at the moon, I was a chick magnet reeling them in like bees to a honey pot, I was the stud, brash and brazen, but that was when I was young man once. I smoked Marlboro Red’s and worn button fly Levi’s jeans and combed my hair with Brylcreem. I had a need for speed with  asphalt scares to prove it, but that was when I was a young man once. I sacked grocery at Safeway and bought my first car, a 49 Ford. It was my Hot Rod with stolen Baby Moon Hubcaps, Roll-and-Tuck black leather seats and a Hurst shifter topped with a pool hall 8 ball…do you want to drag and hear my Glasspacks? I was reckless and insane at times but beer was my friend when times got tough. Let me tell you this, I never wore a watch because I had all the time in the world, but as I grew older, or should I say when my body grew older, I lost some abilities to do as I please. But deep within me is a spirit that is harum-scarum and ready to fight…. even if it’s with the aid of these damn crutches. I was a young man once full of piss and vinegar.”

Life in the City of Angels: Now Playing L.A. Film Festival

L.A. Film Festival

We are the little people, faceless and sad, we accumulate at a bus stop near Sunset and Sad, as you can see we wait for a bus that will never drew near. We are surrounded by the artificial glitter of the Stars, which provides the illusion of certain happiness which seem more real than where we are. We see the failed sitcom stars and the whole fragile scene as the dumpsters are filled with broken dreams. 

Life in the City of Angels: Cigarettes and Relativity

Posing_As she posed and continued to smoke she tells me, “I have more than once made contact with the pavement and it wasn’t so gingerly either, the last time was at the corner of Fairfax and Beverly.”
She paused, took the last drag of her cigarette and dropped it on the concrete between her battered boots.
“Strange how the world looks from the ground up, I once saw an ostrich too.” She said
“All well, life has no obligation to give us what we expect.”

Life in the City of Angels: Smoke ’em if You Got ’em

The Last DrawThe Last Draw-2After a day of traveling aimlessly along Sunset Boulevard it was time to take a break. It had been a good day of harvesting cigarette butts. Joe had always felt it was his civic duty to help address this serious environmental problem by picking up this toxic waste. Now was the time to sit and enjoy the fruits of his labor. He watched for awhile the congestion of traffic and remembered the time he too lived that life…. but no more. The last few embers glowed at the end of the cigarette as Joe inhaled, and as the white smoke curled up in a spiral motion, he pressed lightly his shirt pocket to the fragment ends of tobacco to insure a reserve till morning. Taking the last drag the ashes glowed brighter and crackled as air passed through the cigarette and the smoke went deeply into his lungs. He dropped the butt on the concrete and stubbed it out in a rhythmical tapping of his right foot. How wonderful it would have been to have a cup of coffee to accompanied his cigarette break he thought. The sun had set, but he had decided to stay sitting on the bench and watch the world drive by and maybe have another cigarette.

Life in the City of Angels: I Am a Traveler

Traveler

I am a weary and a lonesome traveler
I’ve been a traveling long.

I’ve traveled near and I’ve traveled yonder
I’ve been a traveling long and traveled cold and then
I’ve traveled hungry. Lord, I’ve been a traveling long.

Yes, I’ve traveled with the rich and traveled with the poor
I’ve been a traveling long.

One of these days I’m going to stop all my traveling
Going to keep right on traveling on that road to freedom
Going to keep right on traveling long…

Life in the City of Angels: The Old Man and the Street

Old ManHe looked at the sky and saw the white cumulus built like friendly piles of ice cream and high above were the thin feathers of the cirrus against the high September sky. “If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy. But since I am not, I do not care.” ― Ernest Hemingway

Life in the City of Angels: Sail Away

John

In the late afternoon light as the heat of the day slowly dissipates and shadows begin to grow. John settles into a convenient position on a green metal bench leaving behind his anxiety at the intersection of La Cienega and 18th Street. It is here that John displays his soul to the rest of humanity as he drifts away from the aroma of exhaust and the pandemonium of metal, glass and tires. He has found his universal solution to serenity while holding the worn pages of his book. Sometime ago John changed the narrative of his life, shipping out on red Target shopping cart, sailing the West above the red painted curbs and redefining window shopping. Books have become John’s traveling companion, his shipmate, his amigo and his manual. Words on a paper that fills the emptiness of time and place on his long voyage home.

Life in the City of Angels: Concrete and Words

Bob-portrait-WPI believe that I am trapped in the thoughts of a writer with no way out, I am terrified that at the end of the last chapter my character will no longer exist.I can only hope that the author has a strong vocabulary with very little rewrite. This is my sentence, where I live life on the streets of L.A. – what a crazy story this is going to be. The author writes a word without risk as I am forced to walk the boulevards day in and day out, but I forgive the author. How I have wonder, but am not sure if my story is being revealed to him or if the author has the final say. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe the author will let me know my fate. Esc key, fiction or non-fiction, I just don’t know.

 

 

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