Life in the City of Angels: Sail Away

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: “The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation” – Henry David Thoreau

My aging process was not gradual or gentle. It rushes up, pushes me over, and then ran off laughing. No one should grow old who isn’t ready to appear ridiculous. I’ve been there, done that, and bought a T-shirt. I’ve never lived a life of quiet desperation. Now I replay all my adventures in my afternoon naps….bonum vitae,

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

After 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: The Three Muses

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“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story ”…

These three Muses are thought to be the goddesses of inspiration in literature, science and the arts.The Muses are believed to live on Mt. Olympus which is a prominent neighborhood near the intersection of Hollywood Boulevard and Laurel Canyon in the Hollywood Hills of Los Angeles. It is here that the Muses entertained their father, Sid Zeusberger (a powerful studio head) and the other Olympian gods with their great artistry. Today, the three Muses take a break from their celestial duties and head to the Beverly Center for shopping, lunch and wine.

Life in the City of Angels: Cigarettes and Relativity

As she rested her elbow on an old L.A. Weekly newspaper bin, she continue to smoke from a stubby discarded cigarette.

She then 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……. all well…. life has no obligation to give us what we expect.”

Life in the City of Angels: Overheard At The Car Wash.

“I don’t have a bucket list, but my shit list is a mile long thought ….God help me! I use to have a religious habit then I became conflicted, confused and couldn’t stop lusting for the church lady playing the piano, besides I don’t like velvet paintings of the Pope. So, let me ask you this question because damn it if money is the root of all evil, why do they ask for it at church and If we were made in the image of God why aren’t we invisible ? “

Surfing Life: The Little Prince

“All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems… But all these stars are silent. You-You alone will have stars as no one else has them… In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night..You, only you, will have stars that can laugh! And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me… You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure… It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Crossing Borders: Knickknacks, Curios and Doohickeys

The souvenirs themselves may have intrinsic value, or simply be a symbol of past experience. The symbolic meaning is invisible and cannot be articulated except for the Visa bill at the end of a vacation trip – Holy Moly ! Honey have you seen the Visa bill ?

Life in the City of Angels:Chinwag on Melrose Avenue

“Hey man ! It’s all about infinite reflection isn’t it? We ask for an eternal embrace after our rite of passage, but like string theory it’s always about getting the right vibe. The vibe man, the vibration of energy from someone who believes in the third eye… Jesus! I sound so woo woo or stoned. Which reminds me, back in the day I use to watch wonky Dance Fever on tv while stoned….popping Tootsie Rolls and caramel popcorn, man oh man! Maui Wowie! Good shit back then.
Jesus! Dance Fever man, hosted by that baby face and swarthy Adrian what’s his name of T J Hooker and Captain Kirk. “Where no man has gone before.” Oh yeah, been there in the cerebral abysses man, damn near didn’t come back. Got to go man, have a date at Pink’s Hot Dogs, peace brother.”

Life in the City of Angels: Now Playing 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.