Santa Monica Freeway, Eastbound, Sunday 6:21pm

bejeweled city of excess
land of straight, rigid streets
and snaky freeways lit up
hot angry red lines glaring
"let's move it!"
hot expectant white lines fuming
"get going, asshole!"

and there, through the smog
rises the craziest moon, as big as jupiter
cresting over mountain shadow
so giant it makes you want to howl
aahhhwooooo! aahhhwoooo!
makes you want to jump out,
scramble between the cars on all hairy fours
instead we all crawl just a bit slower
for a better look

Cold Wet Christmas

We are in Southern California where it's a cold, wet Christmas Day.

My "Number One Fan" Project is not going so well. It's not easy for me to be an unconditional cheerleader. I haven't given up, but I think next year, I'll opt for a more conventional gift.

SoCal Scenes

Happy Bastille Day!
It's nice to be back in Paradise, though the roads in Southern California were a Vortex of Entertainment.

Scene 1
We are driving on the 405, through the Sepulveda Pass. We pass a van belonging to a company called "College Hunks Moving Junk." I, of course, check out the driver.

"Hey! He's no hunk!" He looked like every other truck driver in Los Angeles. "And he doesn't look like he's in college, either. This is bad advertising."
"But catchy, huh."
"I'm surprised there isn't a group of men up in arms about the sexism of such a business."
"You know there'd be a group of women who were against something like 'Lingerie Babes to Do Your Dirty Work.'"

Scene 2
We are driving up Pacific Coast Highway which is pretty packed with weekend traffic. It's the perfect beach day and every other car is packed with kids. We pass a car that is blaring downbeat hip hop -- thump-a-thump-a-thump -- then, moments later, a car blasting some bhangra beats. The young and flashy South Asian Couple are thoroughly enjoying themselves, with the woman doing some Bollywoodesque moves in the tiny interior.

"Bhangra!" I squeal.
"It's the same song (as the earlier hiphop) played at 78!" marvels Big Dog.

I had to try it at home. It sort of works! This might become the Next New Thing in Sampling! Or not. Do kids still know what we mean when we say "playing at 78"?

Do The Limbo

One day in Hell was enough. We had to flee for the coast today. But El Lay ain't no Paradise. Far from it. Coming here from the Antelope Valley was like going from Hell to Purgatory. Which reminds me of a conversation I had with my best friend and a mutual friend from our teen years about how Limbo is worse than Purgatory. You see, I have a lot of Catholic friends from having gone to a Catholic high school, and these two friends were Catholic, too.

"I remember how the nuns used to scare me about Limbo," said S.
"Me, too!" shouted G.
"Why? Why would Limbo be so bad? It certainly isn't Hell. It isn't even Purgatory," I commented.
"Exactly. It was this dark world of NOTHING!" the two friends both shrieked in memory of the horror.
The only thing I could think of that was bad about Limbo was that if Catholic doctrine proved correct, Limbo would be the most densely populated Afterworld of all since all non-Catholics were bound for Limbo.
"Was limbo dancing banned at your school?" I wondered.

LA is not Limbo. It can be a hell of its own. The drivers here are possessed by something, for sure. Some dude gave Big Dog the evil eye when we pulled into a spot at a gas station. He threw his hands up, as if to say "What!? You wanna run me over?" Then, before we were able to pull out, another car come into the space in front of us. Someone else was waiting patiently BEHIND us and the car that pulled in front of us wasn't supposed to be driving up the EXIT ONLY lane in the first place, but when Big Dog mentioned that to him, he got completely defensive and, of all things, angrily grabbed his crotch.

"How weird was THAT?" Big Dog exclaimed. "Did he think he was Michael Jackson?"
"Maybe he had crabs," I laughed
"'Do you have itch AND odor?'" he imitated the announcer in a Vagisil commercial.

"People don't behave like this when they're in line at the supermarket or ticket window or whatever. What makes them turn into such assholes when they're in a car?!" I was amazed.
"Tons of steel make them feel invulnerable."
"Tons of steel make them stupider. But it's like you say: too many people, too many drivers. Stuff like this makes me want to get out of LA as soon as I can. It's giving me a headache."
"It's making me want to get out of the U.S.," Big Dog winced.

Too bad. This week we take a little trip back into our old lives: video production work, a little purgatory of its own. Being so unemployed makes us insecure, so we take the odd jobs that come our way. But like my Catholic friends always said, there IS an end to Purgatory, which is only a mini-hell (or maybe a series of mini-hells) to get you to heaven. And in that sense, it beats the hell out Limbo every time.

Nature Does a Slam Dance

It's springtime in Southern California! The blossoms are blooming like there's no tomorrow -- callas, birds of paradise, azaleas, plums, peaches, apricots, cherries, jacaranda, orange, lemon, honeysuckle, daisies, plumeria... At night, the air is heady with the perfumes of all fragrant things. West LA is like a Hawaiian bride, festooned with lei upon sweet-smelling lei.

And in Canyon Country, northeast of the San Fernando Valley, little orange poppies are already in bloom and hills are dusted with sunset smiles & saffron spilled by a careless curry chef. It's going to be a great year at the California Poppy Reserve. After the rains of winter, nature sure does a men slam dance!