THE MAGIC of GOODWILLThe inside of the "clearance center" was quite possibly the worst thrift store I've ever been to. There were maybe a dozen small bins altogether, they were all shallowly filled with the worst of the worst of items, (mostly giant tommy hillfigger jerseys with bleach stains, soiled teddy bears, and airport novels). All of them were never changed. I got real lost beforehand and I asked some guys working at an autobody shop for directions to an intersection. I was surprised by how eager they were to help me, I walked for over an hour and eventually ran into Los Angeles River Park. Which was both depressing and uplifting at the same time.
This is the L.A. river:
THE RIVER of ANGELS
I snapped the photo from a road overpass and there is a man bending over and washing his face with the water. I was gawking in disbelief that someone would think to cleanse any part of their bodies with L.A. river water -- truly photo worthy. The park was uplifting because the river is still presumed to have some value to it, and depressing for many obvious reasons. It still remains vital though. It floods in the winter. It swallows up someone every year. Its concrete embankments are a taggers paradise. The primered patchwork is evidence to that.
I took the new (to me) Metro rail to get to East L.A., then I decided to go to Health Express, the oddly placed, and affordable vegan drive-thru in Pasadena, (adjacent to KFC, roscoe's, and McDonalds on Lake Street).
Too much shopping was done, not too much spending but I think I must have been in seven thrift stores today. Plus a bunch of Japanese stores on Sawtelle. I feel like I have a hangover. Too much want instilled in me. Too much everything. I need to keep things as simple as possible. Next weekend I will have to focus more on outdoor activities. The city is what I make it... and if I want to make it into a giant fucking mall, (which is very easy in Los Angeles), then I have no right to complain. Perhaps my tone is too harsh but I feel like sometimes I must fight against myself and old habits. Constant want. Constant void. Constant boredom. Constantly uninspired. Self loathing. Everything becomes ugly. Negativity installs itself.
The way I see it, it's pandemic. It's compulsive and it's familiar. It's a lifestyle and a package deal. Not having a television helps but feeling very isolated geographically from anything I can relate to my more recent self does not help. Like the L.A. River, it's brutal in its honesty. It mostly dead, because we mostly killed it. It is diverted and channeled, and if you unfix your gaze on it appears to be just another highway to nowhere.
I can't really explain it. I feel this sense of authenticity about it. It's something to both wallow and revel in simultaneously. I feel it walking downtown, east of downtown, the san gabriel valley. Walking helps, the weather helps more. Everything is as it has always been for a moment and i have no concept of time or age as I have known it. Road tar is seen to have been spilled haphazardly and exhaust can fill the air at times. underpasses smell of urine, discarded blankets and shopping carts make it hard to pass. Sidewalks disappear, crossings become rare. In the dark underpass-like pedestrian tunnel I come with a couple inches of stepping on a limb or two. I walk down the stairs and it feels and smells like entering a sewer. The limbs owners are either too fucked up or sick to take much notice. I make it to the other side, walk up the steps to daylight and I am not fazed by any of this.
I am losing my humanity. I am more aware of the fact after a children's toy, (a four foot tall stuffed panda) left in the underpass elicits more of a reaction in me. Part of me even entertained taking a photo but thought better of it. The flash would stir something up in a junkie's mind that would undoubtedly yield bitter fruit.
My point in all of this is that everyone must admit to reality of life on Earth. That the awful and the beautiful are perpetually coincident. This is especially important if we care at all about living our lives in a way that reflects this reality. Responsibly. The river is a grounding force. It is meager. It says to us, "this is all you get". Like the children of the rich, we lack necessary boundaries. Abundance gives way only momentarily, but when it does it's powerful, sufficient to serve as reminder of a more balanced view of the world.
This is the L.A. river:
THE RIVER of ANGELSI snapped the photo from a road overpass and there is a man bending over and washing his face with the water. I was gawking in disbelief that someone would think to cleanse any part of their bodies with L.A. river water -- truly photo worthy. The park was uplifting because the river is still presumed to have some value to it, and depressing for many obvious reasons. It still remains vital though. It floods in the winter. It swallows up someone every year. Its concrete embankments are a taggers paradise. The primered patchwork is evidence to that.
I took the new (to me) Metro rail to get to East L.A., then I decided to go to Health Express, the oddly placed, and affordable vegan drive-thru in Pasadena, (adjacent to KFC, roscoe's, and McDonalds on Lake Street).
Too much shopping was done, not too much spending but I think I must have been in seven thrift stores today. Plus a bunch of Japanese stores on Sawtelle. I feel like I have a hangover. Too much want instilled in me. Too much everything. I need to keep things as simple as possible. Next weekend I will have to focus more on outdoor activities. The city is what I make it... and if I want to make it into a giant fucking mall, (which is very easy in Los Angeles), then I have no right to complain. Perhaps my tone is too harsh but I feel like sometimes I must fight against myself and old habits. Constant want. Constant void. Constant boredom. Constantly uninspired. Self loathing. Everything becomes ugly. Negativity installs itself.
The way I see it, it's pandemic. It's compulsive and it's familiar. It's a lifestyle and a package deal. Not having a television helps but feeling very isolated geographically from anything I can relate to my more recent self does not help. Like the L.A. River, it's brutal in its honesty. It mostly dead, because we mostly killed it. It is diverted and channeled, and if you unfix your gaze on it appears to be just another highway to nowhere.
I can't really explain it. I feel this sense of authenticity about it. It's something to both wallow and revel in simultaneously. I feel it walking downtown, east of downtown, the san gabriel valley. Walking helps, the weather helps more. Everything is as it has always been for a moment and i have no concept of time or age as I have known it. Road tar is seen to have been spilled haphazardly and exhaust can fill the air at times. underpasses smell of urine, discarded blankets and shopping carts make it hard to pass. Sidewalks disappear, crossings become rare. In the dark underpass-like pedestrian tunnel I come with a couple inches of stepping on a limb or two. I walk down the stairs and it feels and smells like entering a sewer. The limbs owners are either too fucked up or sick to take much notice. I make it to the other side, walk up the steps to daylight and I am not fazed by any of this.
I am losing my humanity. I am more aware of the fact after a children's toy, (a four foot tall stuffed panda) left in the underpass elicits more of a reaction in me. Part of me even entertained taking a photo but thought better of it. The flash would stir something up in a junkie's mind that would undoubtedly yield bitter fruit.
My point in all of this is that everyone must admit to reality of life on Earth. That the awful and the beautiful are perpetually coincident. This is especially important if we care at all about living our lives in a way that reflects this reality. Responsibly. The river is a grounding force. It is meager. It says to us, "this is all you get". Like the children of the rich, we lack necessary boundaries. Abundance gives way only momentarily, but when it does it's powerful, sufficient to serve as reminder of a more balanced view of the world.
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