Ok . . . Here we go! Wait, what's that? Just a sec . . . . .
...
...
...
...
...
Oh, it was nothing. More tomorrow knuckleheads!
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
I swear I saw a Dragon!
So, we were two hours early for the New Year's parade in China town this morning. Mistake. Small misunderstandings can sometimes yield wonderful results no? Like getting to wait in line for forty-five minutes for a delicious dipped sandwich at Philleips! Arduous, yes. Delicious, yes. On the whole, it was a win.
So, I propose that for the next parade-the entrants set up along the right-hand side of the entire parade route, and allow we (the audience) to wander around and past them. This is in response to the gap issue that plagues every parade in the history of the universe. Today was: Schoolkids with flags! Gap.
Gap.
Gap.
Chinese history Society!!
Gap.
Awesome dragon and lion puppets! Yeah New Year!!
We sat and watched, and watched and sat,
and wondered what we were looking at.
Gap.
Gap.
Gag.
Leave.
Yeah. . . so, if I get to control my own speed, I'd be a happier parade-goer. Gaping aside, it was a really fun experience. Awesome firecrackers, Dragons, confetti, and so much more! Again-Happy year of the Dragon.
So, I propose that for the next parade-the entrants set up along the right-hand side of the entire parade route, and allow we (the audience) to wander around and past them. This is in response to the gap issue that plagues every parade in the history of the universe. Today was: Schoolkids with flags! Gap.
Gap.
Gap.
Chinese history Society!!
Gap.
Awesome dragon and lion puppets! Yeah New Year!!
We sat and watched, and watched and sat,
and wondered what we were looking at.
Gap.
Gap.
Gag.
Leave.
Yeah. . . so, if I get to control my own speed, I'd be a happier parade-goer. Gaping aside, it was a really fun experience. Awesome firecrackers, Dragons, confetti, and so much more! Again-Happy year of the Dragon.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
On Neighborhood Crime
This morning, I was annoyed by the constant thwapping of a nearby helicopter. Sometimes, it takes me a while to wake up, and for the first hour or so, I forget that the world does not revolve around me . . . that the chopper was not there to annoy me-it was there to do it's job. As is often the case, choppers in the sky usually mean crime. Today, they'd found a body.
It's slightly easier to deal with crime-in this case-homicide when it's far enough away to be "elsewhere". That could be a different part of the city, or a different part of the world. But when it happens in my backyard, it feels a little heavier. I easily could have walked to the crime scene today. The body was discovered in an area that leads me to assume that the crime grew from the neighborhood that surrounds me. I further assume that it was unnecessary, and probably the result of severe misunderstanding. Who are my neighbors anyway?
I refuse to walk on eggshells in the shadow of violent crimes that happen in my hood, but I will no doubt keep my eyes open. Our neighbors are human beings, assumabley, and deserve to be treated so. The key to creating a murder-free neighborhood is simply for everyone who lives there to refrain from murdering anyone. I vow to do my part . . .
Replace your innocence with sorrow-
for she will never again see tomorrow.
It's slightly easier to deal with crime-in this case-homicide when it's far enough away to be "elsewhere". That could be a different part of the city, or a different part of the world. But when it happens in my backyard, it feels a little heavier. I easily could have walked to the crime scene today. The body was discovered in an area that leads me to assume that the crime grew from the neighborhood that surrounds me. I further assume that it was unnecessary, and probably the result of severe misunderstanding. Who are my neighbors anyway?
I refuse to walk on eggshells in the shadow of violent crimes that happen in my hood, but I will no doubt keep my eyes open. Our neighbors are human beings, assumabley, and deserve to be treated so. The key to creating a murder-free neighborhood is simply for everyone who lives there to refrain from murdering anyone. I vow to do my part . . .
Replace your innocence with sorrow-
for she will never again see tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
On Urban Wilderness-
So, I spent a couple of quality hours hiking in Griffith Park today. One of my resolutions this year was to hike every trail in the park, and today was a good start. I feel OK using the term "hiking" in reference to the time I spent today, because I had hiking shoes on, and for the most part, no motorized vehicles are allowed where I was. Those of us who know what secrets REAL mountains have to offer often roll our eyes and shake our head at these urban trails . . . but all of that lofty snickering doesn't make the trails any less steep!
Some observable differences & observations on the day:
#1-The arrival. You're not parking on a fire access road or at a scooped-out trail head. No, in G-park, you're parking on the street or in one of her many lots. Today, I parked close to the pony and train rides (two separate attractions) . . . but from what I've seen, all of the lots in Griffith park are vaguely similar.
-There is inevitably a gathering of some sort where families are eating questionable food out of plastic bags-usually grouped around the back of a car or two. This sounds sort of shady-and that may be true-but these groups are usually laughing.
-Among the other cars in the lot, there are bound to be one or two where the occupant or occupants are just sitting there. They may have their feet casually tossed out of an open window, or perhaps their seat wrenched back in the lounging mode, but why don't they get out of their cars? I guess we all need a break sometimes.
-There will be music . . . sometimes you'll even know where it's coming from.
-There will be runners. I haven't kept an accurate count, but MOST of them are runners as you think of runners. About every fifth one or so will be the oddball . . . the shuffle-runner in full makeup, or the man-mountain running in flip-flops or something. They will all be wearing ear buds.
#2-The Trail. If you find the right path, you can be out of the city in minutes . . . while never leaving the city. There is zen in Griffith park-plenty of it-you just have to remember to carry it with you.
-Many of the paths though the hills are basically roads . . . some even functioning roads. You'll have to quickly make peace with a new definition of trail hiking. The beauty of G-park is not the immersion of nature, but the fact that it's there. There are plenty of small, adventurous paths that spike off of the main roads, but some of them lead to homeless hotels, so walk warily! (there's nothing worse than stepping on a used hypodermic while experiencing nature!)
-Spy the Tre-ffiti! Trees, rocks-sometimes the ground itself is often tagged. I'm not wise to the purpose or practice of tagging, so I'm not sure what draws someone to spray-paint their tag onto a tree. I suppose it's not TOO different from lovers carving their initials . . . but it seems to lack the romantic or historic angle.
-The trail can bring out the humanity in people! How much of a relief is it in this city to look someone in the eye and say hello to them-and to have that energy returned! That can happen in the part. I even got into a brief, meaningless, and perfectly wonderful conversation with an old couple today! They were walking, literally, a pack of dogs. Of course, the magic of the trails mostly comes from within, and plenty of people forget to bring their magic . . . so there's still plenty of that strange Los Angeles attitude of practiced nonchalance as well. Bring your magic with you!
#3-Look Sharp! While Griffith Park is dirty and covered in graffiti, littered with trash and trod upon by hipsters, loud with highway noise and paved with horseshit . . . there are some wonderful secrets in the "woods". I spied two today-affixed to one tree was a wish-making machine of some variety. It had been damaged by the wind or by vandals, but someone had take the time to affix something in the nook of a tree for others to wish upon. There was even a small stack of quarters there (I guess wishes are more expensive out west!). Then, a little further down the path, was a young Christmas tree. It was maybe 5 feet tall and beautifully shaped. A ring of carefully selected stones surrounded the base, and a beautifully simple star hung from the top branch . . . it definitely had the feeling of being recently planted. Amir would be proud!
So, there's some reports from the road today. Griffith Park-you're gnarly and used, you've been burned and built on, you're ugly and dirty, and I think I'm starting to fall for you a little bit . . .
To Grow to love-first plant a tree,
Then let it age most patiently.
Some observable differences & observations on the day:
#1-The arrival. You're not parking on a fire access road or at a scooped-out trail head. No, in G-park, you're parking on the street or in one of her many lots. Today, I parked close to the pony and train rides (two separate attractions) . . . but from what I've seen, all of the lots in Griffith park are vaguely similar.
-There is inevitably a gathering of some sort where families are eating questionable food out of plastic bags-usually grouped around the back of a car or two. This sounds sort of shady-and that may be true-but these groups are usually laughing.
-Among the other cars in the lot, there are bound to be one or two where the occupant or occupants are just sitting there. They may have their feet casually tossed out of an open window, or perhaps their seat wrenched back in the lounging mode, but why don't they get out of their cars? I guess we all need a break sometimes.
-There will be music . . . sometimes you'll even know where it's coming from.
-There will be runners. I haven't kept an accurate count, but MOST of them are runners as you think of runners. About every fifth one or so will be the oddball . . . the shuffle-runner in full makeup, or the man-mountain running in flip-flops or something. They will all be wearing ear buds.
#2-The Trail. If you find the right path, you can be out of the city in minutes . . . while never leaving the city. There is zen in Griffith park-plenty of it-you just have to remember to carry it with you.
-Many of the paths though the hills are basically roads . . . some even functioning roads. You'll have to quickly make peace with a new definition of trail hiking. The beauty of G-park is not the immersion of nature, but the fact that it's there. There are plenty of small, adventurous paths that spike off of the main roads, but some of them lead to homeless hotels, so walk warily! (there's nothing worse than stepping on a used hypodermic while experiencing nature!)
-Spy the Tre-ffiti! Trees, rocks-sometimes the ground itself is often tagged. I'm not wise to the purpose or practice of tagging, so I'm not sure what draws someone to spray-paint their tag onto a tree. I suppose it's not TOO different from lovers carving their initials . . . but it seems to lack the romantic or historic angle.
-The trail can bring out the humanity in people! How much of a relief is it in this city to look someone in the eye and say hello to them-and to have that energy returned! That can happen in the part. I even got into a brief, meaningless, and perfectly wonderful conversation with an old couple today! They were walking, literally, a pack of dogs. Of course, the magic of the trails mostly comes from within, and plenty of people forget to bring their magic . . . so there's still plenty of that strange Los Angeles attitude of practiced nonchalance as well. Bring your magic with you!
#3-Look Sharp! While Griffith Park is dirty and covered in graffiti, littered with trash and trod upon by hipsters, loud with highway noise and paved with horseshit . . . there are some wonderful secrets in the "woods". I spied two today-affixed to one tree was a wish-making machine of some variety. It had been damaged by the wind or by vandals, but someone had take the time to affix something in the nook of a tree for others to wish upon. There was even a small stack of quarters there (I guess wishes are more expensive out west!). Then, a little further down the path, was a young Christmas tree. It was maybe 5 feet tall and beautifully shaped. A ring of carefully selected stones surrounded the base, and a beautifully simple star hung from the top branch . . . it definitely had the feeling of being recently planted. Amir would be proud!
So, there's some reports from the road today. Griffith Park-you're gnarly and used, you've been burned and built on, you're ugly and dirty, and I think I'm starting to fall for you a little bit . . .
To Grow to love-first plant a tree,
Then let it age most patiently.
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Year of the Dragon
It may have been dumb luck, my being born in the year of the Dragon, but like so many dumb things in my life, I'm claiming complete ownership!
Let's see . . . this should be the the Fourth go-around as my Lunar year, and I can't help but feel like good things are on the horizon. They say that how you spend the first day of a new year sets the tone for the year . . . so with that in mind-it's going to be a sweaty one! T and I are doing this at-home DVD workout, which I find myself embarrassed to admit. Even more embarrassing is how out of shape I've become. Not necessarily in poundage or sagginess, but I've definitely lost strength. Who new that sitting on a couch for the first five years of my thirties would cause this? We're on day 3 of a 30-day plan, and while the days are getting progressively better, I'm glad to be in the cocoon of our living room-jiggling away towards the TV. Who knows-if I keep this up, I might have washboard abs by the time I'm 40!?
Anyhoo, after our "Shred" workout, I spent a good portion of the day with a pen in my hand. The difference between today and other rainy days in Los Angeles, is that today, I was actually using the pen. It's easy to forget the simple joy that writing can bring. At least, easy for me to forget. I suppose it's not the writing per se-but the attention, the mindfulness, the presence. Today was one of those days where I sort of found my own rhythm and bounced along with it-you know? The sort of day where things just sort of made sense. A don'tjudgeitjustrollwithit day. A Dragon sort of day. I'm happy to have had it.
Like honesty in a lover's eyes-
this rain will wash off my disguise.
And who is this-you see below?
Only me (and the dragon) know!
Let's see . . . this should be the the Fourth go-around as my Lunar year, and I can't help but feel like good things are on the horizon. They say that how you spend the first day of a new year sets the tone for the year . . . so with that in mind-it's going to be a sweaty one! T and I are doing this at-home DVD workout, which I find myself embarrassed to admit. Even more embarrassing is how out of shape I've become. Not necessarily in poundage or sagginess, but I've definitely lost strength. Who new that sitting on a couch for the first five years of my thirties would cause this? We're on day 3 of a 30-day plan, and while the days are getting progressively better, I'm glad to be in the cocoon of our living room-jiggling away towards the TV. Who knows-if I keep this up, I might have washboard abs by the time I'm 40!?
Anyhoo, after our "Shred" workout, I spent a good portion of the day with a pen in my hand. The difference between today and other rainy days in Los Angeles, is that today, I was actually using the pen. It's easy to forget the simple joy that writing can bring. At least, easy for me to forget. I suppose it's not the writing per se-but the attention, the mindfulness, the presence. Today was one of those days where I sort of found my own rhythm and bounced along with it-you know? The sort of day where things just sort of made sense. A don'tjudgeitjustrollwithit day. A Dragon sort of day. I'm happy to have had it.
Like honesty in a lover's eyes-
this rain will wash off my disguise.
And who is this-you see below?
Only me (and the dragon) know!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Third Strike=Not Out
Well, as it turns out . . . I'm not great with a daily task. For the third time in the FIRST MONTH of blog-a-day, I dropped the ball. You should understand . . . I'm a very busy guy. Today, for example, I had to listen to two different football games on the radio! I've got about 7 games of Words with Friends going on (Codefacekilla, if you're looking). I could go on, but that's all I had going on today.
I suppose that I could offer up a whole quantity vs. quality argument, but then I'd have to make with the quality . . . and really, who can be bothered on a drizzly day like today.
I listened to the games (as I mentioned) on the radio today. It was olde-timey and pretty fun. I think my imagination is exhausted though . . . it's tough work to keep everybody busy in my brain! It was a great way to spend a Sunday-cozy and cool. Cozy in in Cody way-not something Norman Rockwell would have been interested in painting. Tomorrow starts a new week, with new opportunities!
Count the ticktocks to the middle of Night-
Release the Red of the Dragon's Might!
I suppose that I could offer up a whole quantity vs. quality argument, but then I'd have to make with the quality . . . and really, who can be bothered on a drizzly day like today.
I listened to the games (as I mentioned) on the radio today. It was olde-timey and pretty fun. I think my imagination is exhausted though . . . it's tough work to keep everybody busy in my brain! It was a great way to spend a Sunday-cozy and cool. Cozy in in Cody way-not something Norman Rockwell would have been interested in painting. Tomorrow starts a new week, with new opportunities!
Count the ticktocks to the middle of Night-
Release the Red of the Dragon's Might!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Why is Art?
So, we went to the Los Angles Art Show today-downtown at the Convention Center. So-and-so was debuting their brand-new whositwhatsit, and we simply had to buy one before the Jonses did. So, with briefcases full of cash and, regrettably, a nose full of snot, we bumpered my little car downtown.
I've seen enough pastel, ink, bronze, marker, watercolor, negative, twine, chalk, marble, plaster, etc., in my life to begin to have some opinions about the art world. Maybe, more specifically, the gallery world. I'm never going to be one who is up on the latest trends-touting the catastrophic deconstruction of the found-pop movement by nonchalance of the escapism movements. You probably won't find me with a glass of red, meditating (out loud) about the NEED for blood on a canvas, or some such absurdity. I don't mean to sound pithy or snobby or anything, it's just that, when it comes to art, I know what I like, and it doesn't flow much deeper than that. I like art that tells a story that I've heard in my brain, but never seen in the world. I like art that whispers to me-that encourages me to be different . . . art that challanges me in a language that I can understand. I'm a lazy critic-I like what I can understand. And what I love about art is:
Everything we saw today, wheather I liked it or not, affects somebody. That the thunderstruck moments that I have with a certain sculpture is the same moment some stranger is sharing with the self-flagutuling boar painting that walked right past. Fascinating isn't it? None of us ever experience art in exactally the same way. There are some constants, of course, but none of them are universal. I realize that this isn't a revolutionary thought, but I do find it to be fascinating.
There were, in fact, many folks there to ACTUALLY buy. . . which is another fascinating realm . . . what is the value of art? Personally, I can't imagine spending the type of cash I heard bandied about today. The walls and shelves in our humble abode are graced by art that we, or our friends have produced. But how do you put a price tag on an emotional response? Is it in the same realm of say, prostitution, or a day at the spa? I realize that there is a population out there that builds collections-that art can be an investment. But what of the art-lover who falls in love with a certain painting? That type of purchase should be covered by medical insurance . . . because the right piece of art to the right eyes can be medicine.
Saw a lot of great stuff today. I'm so happy that people are moved to create!
I've seen enough pastel, ink, bronze, marker, watercolor, negative, twine, chalk, marble, plaster, etc., in my life to begin to have some opinions about the art world. Maybe, more specifically, the gallery world. I'm never going to be one who is up on the latest trends-touting the catastrophic deconstruction of the found-pop movement by nonchalance of the escapism movements. You probably won't find me with a glass of red, meditating (out loud) about the NEED for blood on a canvas, or some such absurdity. I don't mean to sound pithy or snobby or anything, it's just that, when it comes to art, I know what I like, and it doesn't flow much deeper than that. I like art that tells a story that I've heard in my brain, but never seen in the world. I like art that whispers to me-that encourages me to be different . . . art that challanges me in a language that I can understand. I'm a lazy critic-I like what I can understand. And what I love about art is:
Everything we saw today, wheather I liked it or not, affects somebody. That the thunderstruck moments that I have with a certain sculpture is the same moment some stranger is sharing with the self-flagutuling boar painting that walked right past. Fascinating isn't it? None of us ever experience art in exactally the same way. There are some constants, of course, but none of them are universal. I realize that this isn't a revolutionary thought, but I do find it to be fascinating.
There were, in fact, many folks there to ACTUALLY buy. . . which is another fascinating realm . . . what is the value of art? Personally, I can't imagine spending the type of cash I heard bandied about today. The walls and shelves in our humble abode are graced by art that we, or our friends have produced. But how do you put a price tag on an emotional response? Is it in the same realm of say, prostitution, or a day at the spa? I realize that there is a population out there that builds collections-that art can be an investment. But what of the art-lover who falls in love with a certain painting? That type of purchase should be covered by medical insurance . . . because the right piece of art to the right eyes can be medicine.
Saw a lot of great stuff today. I'm so happy that people are moved to create!
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