February 2012
10 posts
home
I typed in ‘home’ into youtube writing this blog, and ironically, the first thing that came up was Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, which we’ve been listening to on loop cruising around LA looking for meaning, past, home.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjFaenf1T-Y
Such a difference qualitative experience vising LA. Before, I was revisiting the bay area, a place I once...
West LA morass, day two, the jello
I remember in improv theres an exercise you do, where you act like your moving, stuck in honey, a giant vat of honey. And that’s a bit what LA is like, trying to move through a giant fat of artesanal grade 86 fair something honey.
See, I was thinking, everyone just putters around their house, their health stores, or their garden in LA. Chris Jason and them live in this giant morass of West...
LA
After manic, tight, San Francisco, I arrive in Los Angeles languidly laid out over freeways and freeways and freeways.
A little blonde 19 year old wanderer from Vancouver greets me on the clean green Santa Monica streets. Chris and Jason roll up in old blue Mercedes, Chris manic, bruised cut up from a Beverly Hills bike accident. The Illinois girl [FIBS] was so upset!, the Persian who drived by...
a love letter to san francisco
This entry will be a little less PG, familial appropriate than usual, and I think San Francisco brings it out in me, makes it necessary. Always a little too much passion there for me, in the end, forcing the flowers into great magical bloom.
The rose withers and fall.
Such lush life; the maroon shaded plush chairs, bright green colored night sky, or was it the eucalyptus, or perfume from a...
the revolution will probably not be religiously...
Getting back into the onda of the bay area, taking a few days to fully feel it again, reconnect with the people.
Maybe it was having a random uneventful coffee in a side Starbucks in downtown SF with George, BRIGHT blonde hair, off work selling perfume at nordstroms [another?]. “I don’t know why people love SF. I just live here. What is it they love!?” This random bitter...
“It wouldn’t be the revolution if we served decaf.” Sitting in Cafe Revolution, in West Oakland, full of ironic political and social knick knacks, an adorable little cafe by the BART and highway, blasting by. Faint refuge from the cold, some form of hay sneeze winter bay allergy assaulting my brain. And strangely, feeling a bit homesick for Chile for the first time ever on a trip...
1 tag
notes
I think coffee and dessert, particularly ice cream, should come before the meal. I love freaking latin waitresses out when I insist they bring out my coffee at the *beginning* of my menu.
Whats the difference?
Also, I always remember what a not city-kid I am [re growing up], because vacation to me always means going to an even bigger and cooler city. To the forest? eh. A beach is nice. But...
california.....dreamin'.
I’m sitting here, giddily listening to pop hits from the 00s. JayZ, hollaback, MIA, Kanye, Rihanna. The mainstream, bumping beat of a manic social era of mine . I’m not so much of that world, but it brings me back, back, waves beating ceaseslessly agaisnt the past….
I realize I’ve spent the majority of the last 3 years partying in Latin clubs. I’m coming of age...
“Farewell Chile, you endearing, insecure, horrifically bureaucratic,...”
– cris 