Right Here, Right Now

Million Miles Begins With One Step

Only So Many Miles

According to a Google, average life expectancy of one born in America is 67.2 years. This translates to almost 59,000 hours.  Let’s say, 60,000 optimistically. A third of that is gone due to sleep. I wrote about this once, but I think we need to be reminded once in awhile about the importance of right now is. what-have-you-done-for-365-days post

2011

Day Worth Living is a Day Worth Documenting

Been keeping a journal for this year, it is filled with ticket stubs, library receipts, and miscellaneous functions I have attended.  Every day is a gift. Imagine all the things you have seen this last day. It is these precious moments that we realize that there is so much wonderment out there in the vastness of space.

Last Lunar Eclipse for a Couple of Years

Just A Phase

Heard on NPR last night an interview of an attendee of the Griffith Park Observatory Lunar Eclipse viewing. Three or four hundred  people on the lawn gathering in the middle of the city to watch the night get darker than what it is. What struck me is said he felt insignificant. He said he was touched by philosophically, psychologically, spiritually, metaphysically, blah, blah, blah. I think he just got hit by the adverb comet. To Me, being alive is Significant. If we aren't, then why are we here?  In each minute, life has something to offer.

Sights to See

Look Up

I am not the traveling monster as my cousin Barbara—Portugal,  Spain, Dubai, Australia, and so on. Nor am I like a former schoolmate, Edgar. Peru, Russia, and more. It is just that we experience so much in each minute. 

Through A Child's Eyes

New View, New Perspective

Pat, a friend’s mother was housebound. She was legally blind and sat in her chair most days with her wiener dogs, but she had some tales. Oprah and the like kept her apprised of what was going on and important. Didn’t really appreciate her situation and was a bit critical. However, my view has changed. 

We may need a moment. May need assistance. We may need to give a moment. We may need to give assistance

We All Fall Down

Her husband was also vision impaired, but he was something, too. Riding his bike everywhere. Being a respected instructor for some troubled kids in elementary. It was something. His stories of kids being on themselves, spitting at the teacher’s aide, and threats of bodily harm—I don’t know if had that much patience and control.

Injured, but won anyways. Heart goes a long ways

Hard Won Victory

I was told by my optometrist that I will have cataracts and though it is not present yet, I will undergo some challenges. Going Blind. . .wow.  It could happen so I won’t dwell on it. I am just saying what we see in the course of one day is not to be taken lightly. It is quite something. 

Inches We Need Are Everywhere Around Us

Artwork from an Ice Cube

Not going to harp on the choices people make regarding television. To some it offers worlds, I would never imagine experiencing. History Channel with Swamp People and Monsterquest. USA with Burn Notice, Covert Affairs, and NCIS. Hardcore Pawn, Cartoon Network, and Diners, Drive-In and Dives. Sure it is a dramatized version and cut in ways that are extracting much of the story. 

Also known as a car

Moments Can Change the World

I liken it to reading a novel, watching a movie,  looking at a painting, or having a gustatory moment with Anthony Bourdain. This is just a snippet of what is out there. A quick flash of just that moment.  Forever gone once its past. Sure, what is life without a little drama. For some, drama is what is interesting.

Tied a Note to A Balloon and set aloft

Message From Heaven

All I want to do is put out there is remind one of Now. Being Present. Being present to all the gifts the Universe offers. Thank you Big Smile for all that you have given. During the Holiday season it is one gift that we need to remember that is always there.

Panera Observations

Lonely Planet Los Angeles sits to my left. To my right a blender is churning. In front of me in the next booth, a young lady in sweats waits for a friend. At 10 o’clock, three people sit. Mother and her two college aged sons. One is in jeans and yellow polo. His Denim is ripped. Don’t think that it was ripped on purpose. He’s eating a soup of some sort. Hungry he is because does not put his spoon down after each bite. Shoulder is hunched over and he brings his face to the soup, unlike the Japanese that brings the soup to their face.

 His brother is wearing a grey Hollister hoodie. Can’t tell what he is eating. His back is to me.  Black vans, darker blue jeans. Ooops, is it a woman with shaved head. Bulky the SHIM is. His/ her jean bottoms are rolled up.  Her/ his mother wears a purple sweater. She has her white leather purse around left arm. Maybe she had her bag stolen. Maybe she is in a hurry to leave.  She is eating her food like a cow. Her jaw rolls to the left. Her arms are guarded. Maybe she is cold. Can’t guess at the moment.

The son in yellow keeps looking my way. Maybe he is sensing I am writing about them. He already eaten half of his sandwich. He has only taken one bite. Guess, his mom doesn’t feed him.Grey Hollister hoodie,  sits with shoulders hunch. No back straight. Just head down, slurping at his food. I going to say it’s a him, by the jutting adam’s apple. 

Behind them sits two ladies. One older and the other really old. Both are wearing hats. Can only see a part of the heads. They each sit at opposite ends of the black couch. Both are Hispanic. She has the Janet Jackson Black Cat video cap on. She has a small diamonds in her ears. They are partially facing each other. Must be familiar. Maybe mother daughter. Its not a deep conversation. They would be sitting face to face and the conversation would be more animated or intimate.

The other lady has pink finger nail polish. She’s wearing a white hat. A rolled up summer hat. Reminds me of a can of white can of Cool aid with a circular  rim around it. Not a glorious hat, but something to keep her warm. Style, I am not sure she has any. She is wearing a white leopard print.  Isn’t that an endangered species? Both of the ladies are staring into the fire.  Maybe they are cold.

Next to them is an older couple sitting across from each other. The husband is leaning in and his wife has her arms across her dress. She seems bored. Both white haired. Husband is wearing  a green sweater of a place he has visited. Probably picked it up at some gift shop. The wife, maybe in her sixties, maybe retired. I sense she is bored. They have flag on their table. Flag has the number eight. They haven’t gotten their food yet.

Never mind, the service with the brown baseball cap is walking their way. A sandwich and a bread bowl soup. I am guessing Clam chowder.  I never hear anyone order the Black Bean or French Onion or Brocolli Cheddar. Its Friday and it looks like it’s on special. 

Server has a green Panera apron tightly wrapped around his waist. Skinny kid. Glasses.  His neck reminds me of that dopy vulture on those Buggs Bunny cartoons. No that is not nice. I guess I will live being mean.

Across the way, at 11:30 is a man in a green zippered sweater. A grandpa methinks He is playing with his phone. He wears glasses. Far sighted I think. His arm is straightened out as he dials his phone. It’s a flip top so I am guessing its not the I phone or Blackberry. My observation is that the numbers are enlarged screen so as to dial easier. Do people still call it dialing. Dialing is supposed to be for a circle, like a sundial. Pressing the numbers, but that doesn’t sound right either. Dialing!?@$ His back is against the wall. A giant painting of bread sits above him.  This the signature formula of Panera’s. Paintings of bread. It could be worse. It could have been doughnuts.

A tall man, maybe kid is leaning to my right. 5’10” or 6”. Can’t tell. Both of his elbows are leaning back against the wall. He’s about to order.  It’s a kid. He has an aquamarine shirt over a purple zipper sweater with a goofy checkered hat. He’s playing on his phone. His dad is three or four inches taller than him with his wallet out. Dad is wearing a brown leather jacket. Mustache. Maybe Irish. I get the Boston vibe. Face is a ruddy red. He hands his wife the receipt, I assume, his wife, goofy kid’s mom.

Older lady with a pooch. Maybe pregnant or just fat. Can’t really tell. She looks in late forties early fifties. Don’t think she is pregnant, lets say the pooch is . . .There is no smiles on their faces. All are drinking tea. Ice tea. They, too, have a flag. Their number is 047. Haircut is a little shorter than shoulder length. They are sitting side by side. They seem tired. Maybe they are on a trip.  Their son went to the bathroom. I wonder if he will wash his hands. You can tell by the reactions. Let’s see if he’s hygienic. The family is sitting where the yellow polo, grey Hollister, and purple sweater used to sit.

Panera boy is walking quickly around.  Oh oh. Aquamarine, purple sweater boy did not wash his hands.  His hands are not glistening. Did not hear the air dryer go off.  Gross. I’m thinking freshman or junior high eighth grader. He has a goofy look. He constantly checks his phone. Must have done it five times in the last 10 minutes.  Plus, I think the kid would be wearing something more stylish, more coordinated. Plus that hat has got to go. Vans sweater, purple zip, and goofy white hat.

It’s getting busier now here in Panera.  A line is forming up front. Well, my time is almost up. Gots to get me another carrot and walnut muffin. 

Grind Observation: August Morning Ramblings

[-28] 03610.00
Last day of August. Two-thirds of the year gone.Two Hundred forty-third day of 2010.Stardate: [-28] 03610.00 Not sure what that means, but they it Star Trek: TNG all the time. As for this moment in time and space, this is what my senses tell me.

Nina and Charlie
A lady is texting away on her Iphone. Another lady waits for her macchiato. She samples the silver coffee mug. Nina Simone is playing overhead and Charlie Parker is to my right. I can hear the workers laugh. Fresh brew wafts in the air. Mid-morning and my attention span is short. 

UCLA: What Are You?
Mesmerized by the lady tap at her tiny touch screen keyboard. She is wearing a wrinkled UCLA tee. Black binder and older leather purse/ back pack are placed in all around in "her' area. Binder is her work. She coughs. She seems to be a former athlete, a swimmer maybe. Wearing flip flops. An outline of a sports bra or swimsuit is under her tee. Perhaps a freestyler or breast stroker. Maybe a nursing student. Short hair in a pony. Thirty something. Purposely Tattered denim of the 90s.

She has a chart of sorts and is warming up her netbook.Her hair is unwashed, unstyled. Focus of a single or windowed mom. Could tell that she has business approach, mixed with vernacular of a therapist. She talks about session of therapy with teachers and children. Maybe a social worker? Her body language is that of an assured confidence. Right knee bent and hip protruding. Short-haircut. Her paperwork showed a chart, perhaps a science chart or an experiment. She uses a pencil and is writing on her papers.

Lady In Red
Well, another lady in red sits in front of me. Drinking her flavored iced tea. She is studying her open notebook too. White, green and magenta purse on the table. She is organized. Her faded red shirt is snug. No more luster. Has these button straps on her arm.  Reminds me on an old Members Only jacket that men used to be in style a lifetime ago. Shops at the Ross is my guess. White tee underneath. Watch is on her left. Probably a right hander. Clothes don’t seem very fashionable, but this is a lazy Tuesday morning. No highlight marks on her paper. I peaked as she lifted her binder. Fall semester started recently at the college so I would assume she is a student. Papers stack are only on the top few pages. Must be a student.

White Washed Vato
An older gentlemen just placed his Valley Press on the seat next to hers. Must be a father or uncle. Don’t think its her husband. Seems to big of an age difference. He is wearing a blue button up. Black, shiny faux alligator belt hugs his rising dockers. Many older men have the pants raised up midway on their belly. Like an old school Vato. Thing he is caucasian. Maybe a former mafia, gangster. Don't think he is Italian.  Shirt is somewhat untucked. He’s ordering right now. Can’t really hear what is saying. Coffee is my guess.

Prim and proper she sits. Crosslegged. Right over left. She is grasping her leg securely with both hands.

Brazillian Berry
The cashier is counting change. Breaking a roll of coins on the counter, as the change falls to the ground. She apologizes for that. The server comes to my table with the Jumbo peach iced tea. Over priced, but I consider it rent for using the Wi-Fi for the next couple of hours. She says that my reward card can get me most drinks on the menu. Her favorite is Brazilian Berry smoothie. I will try. Its free. Made my ninth drink purchase. Its Yeah Me time. Maybe tonight after I complete some errands on the last day of August.

Medication and Machiato
A traditional man. No ring. Widowed, my guess. People his time didn't divorce. Drinks coffee. Small. He has muffin. Just got a packet from his pockets. Medication of some sort. Never seen that type before. Its PO w/ Food. Means by Mouth with food. Read somewhere that almost every 65+ is taking some type of medication. Dark eyed. Grey and white hair. He eats his muffin with his hand. 

SCORE
A good shot, too. Just tossed in the ketchup looking packet in the trash a few arms length away. Even had some follow through of the bent wrist. This tells me he is a risk taker of sort. Lazy, too. Shirt is striped. Mini-stripes. The two don’t say a word. She got a coffee cake. Iced tea and coffee cake. Probably not a diabetic.

I wonder what the relationship is? He’s engrossed in his paper. Oops, not Valley Press, A Daily News. Probably lives in the Valley. San Fernando that is. Don’t think he’s from the Woodland Hills. Maybe Northridge or Van Nuys. Clothes aren’t stylish. Looks well worn. He has a gold watch. He walks like an old man. No bounce in his step. The old man shuffle. Yet his shoes are black Maddens. Faux Fashion. He shops at the Rack, Nordstrom Rack, I think. (Thinking the Style Channel must be on TV when I sleep) 

Still no words have been shared yet. She is locked into her reading. Bent over in a focused study.

UCLA is sitting cross-legged. She reminds me of Michelle in a way.

He's Not Around Here
Coffee man is now using his fork and knife. This after he grabbed a couple of bites with his hand. Now he is choosing to be civil. Its okay either way. Locked on the third page of the front section. Nope, I was wrong. He is reading the sports section. Not studying the stats. Intent on reading the weather, though. Guess, weather becomes important as age goes by. Guess that is why I have the Weather Channel on my Blackberry. Yeah, I am betting he is not Palmdalian.

Thank YouTube
UCLA likes the song overhead. Her heads bobs like one of those kewpie dolls. No I mean Bobblehead. Who is this singer? Maybe Dido. Something alternative. Bouncy in beat. Not the angry femme fatales. More adventurous. Trouble is a friend. . .Trouble is friend you. that is the lyrics of the song. Now its going to bug me. Lenka. That is it.  I love the internet at times.

Brought to you by YouTube

Hello, Seventh Month of the Year (Originally. Until Some Ceasar Wanted it Somewhere Else On the Calendar. Vanity Amuck)

Well, the two are gone. He left his paper. Said only a few words. “Ready.” So they went. Its time for me to go to. August at the Grind. Thank you for sharing this time with me. See you next year. Hello September. What do you have in stored for me?

Three Little Birds. . .

Rise up this mornin', Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,

Saturday. Breeze is blowing. Green trees rustle while providing shade on this hot summer day. Kids are swinging to my left. Father and son are doing soccer drills in front of me. Two sisters ride their bikes on the central path. Kids skate on the park.

It’s a warm day cooled by the summer breeze. Dry green grass covers the field. Children's laughter is carried in the wind. Been alone with family. That’s the best way to describe it this last week. Brother is in Vegas with his wonderful wife and kids. Rodney his family hung out with me a few days back. Visiting Charlie Browns and Littlerock Dam.

Thinking back when my father was alive. I would always walk around. We used to camp a bit in the van. Cold, winter nights in the brown, multi-colored van hanging with Brian. I remember back in the early 80’s when we moved here to P-dale. It snowed that winter. Heavy. Several inches thick. Driving to downtown LA. Strangers coming to our van to grab some ice from my first snowfall. Felt so special then. Strangers walking to the fan to grab a handful of ice.

Dad’s gone now. He’s buried in the PI. Didn’t end it the way of would have liked. Still remember that text message on the Verizon phone. Thought it was a joke. Thought it was a desperate cry for help. Desperate cry for money. Thought was another sales scheme. I let it go. Yet, it still haunts me.

Choices were made. Forethought was absent. Hurt feelings still scarred me. Pain that I thought let go. Alas, I was not wise then. Let hurt rule that day. I remember being dropped off in the middle of the night by the aqueduct. Walking home in the dark as the party played on. I knew then. Actually, that is not true. Knew for quite some time. If I wanted anything, I had to do it myself. It was up to me. No one else’s fault but my own. Learned to swim. Learned to ride my bike. Learned to draw and write. Dad had a way with words. Those writings are gone like he is.

Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!

Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,

Can’t run away from this. Can’t get away of who I am. Problems that I face are my own. Solutions are up to me. Prayed for some time. Went to church for a bit, but couldn’t escape who I am and what I’ve done. Choices I made are mine alone.

Not strategic at times. Not the best outcome, yet still, here I am. I know in the grand scheme of things it little things that make the world of difference. It is the hug of nephew. The words, “I miss my uncle.” It is the postcard from an old friend. Don’t know if the things I do will change the world. Don’t know if it doesn’t matter. Hope can mean everything. Its hard to keep at times. When things are so bleak, so dark, to have this belief that things will be better. Dad always had that. I knew when it wasn’t there. Guess, that glimmer in the eyes. Recognize it all too well. In sales, I knew when a client was sold or was just hazed over.

Knew it with Glitter. Knew it with Dad. Knew it when I saw it in myself. That look in the eyes when I lost that glow. Raman said “Dead Inside.” Hard to re-ignite that fire when it was just a whisper.

It easy to lay down and die. To hide in the cave and just wait to end it. What a waste.

To this I say,

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself. ---D. H. Lawrence

So here I sit enjoying the hot summer winds. Listening to green trees rustle. Watching the Father and son kick the ball. There was a time I did this with my Dad. For now, this will have to do.

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right" - I won't worry!
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, oh no!
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

3rd & Fairfax since '34

Tourist Central, LA Landmark
Lunch at Farmers Market. Nice to place to hang. Ethnic restaurants. Fresh produce. Specialty stores for Hot Sauce, Teas, and tourist junk. They even have a Bakery for pets, Bagels for Beagels. Nice.

Ringing of the bell. Reminds one of a mission bell. Twelve rings shouting mid day. Tourists figuring out what to have for lunch. Small mom and pop shops owners sitting all day in a little cubicle surrounded by food and ovens. People gawking at their wares. Signs of “Cash Only” strewn all over the place. Tax under filing reasons I assume.

International Going Local

Moishe’s Village has middle eastern food. Run by a Filipino lady, I think. Guess it is like Hispanic people at Panda Express and Armenian people selling Greek food. 

Gone to the exotic tea shop before sitting for lunch. One would figure it would be run by one of Asian descent. No, Hispanic. Most Asian restaurants are manned by non-Asians.  Hutington Meat market have painted-on rates that have been the same for years. "$3.98 for Suckling Pig, Wild Boar, Venison, Rabbit, Squab, Pheasant, Ostrich."

Memories: Seasons Change

My favorite section is the ice cream, donut, and pizza corner. It used to be next to the magazine store of my youth. Now it is a bathroom area. It connect the past with the future of the Grove. They don’t validate for parking for the Grove at Farmers Market. Why? They're connected. One can ride a mini tram from the Grove to the Market. It is a true market of the future and past. 

LA Experience, Faux Authentic-ism

At the Grove, they have Cheesecake Factory, Barnes & Noble and the Apple Store. Commercialized-mall-ified stores. Like Boylston Street and Downtown Boston. One gets the touristy feel of Farmers Market with all the memorabilia junk like fake academy awards, overpriced postcards, and yet it feels like home. Guess, I like the feel of faux authentic-ism. 

Turning on the my internet card, there are many wi-fi sites available. Hidden Modernism revealed. Where would we be without our internet? So much underneath. Not like NYC. If people don't like you, they have no problem saying so. LA is well, laid back, passive aggressive. Its like the difference between Jerry Buss and George Steinbrenner.

Tourist's Dress

Moishe's café is a busy place now. Not really a big Falafel fan, but it seems the most popular this afternoon. Tourists in shorts. Camoflage shorts and wife beaters. Australian, I think. One older lady clutches her purse. Must have traveled around. She might have been a victim of gypsies in the past. Heard many a stories of Italians having their stuff taken.

Cameras at their side. Ready to take that obligatory shot of a foreign food place. Bet that they have a Farmers Market close to home. Most cities do. A taste of exoticism locally. That is one reason why to venture here. Its to try something different. With the explosion of Panda Express, fast food sushi, and Taco whatever—the exotic has become common. Crepes made fresh. Guiness with the Soccer match going on the flat screen. Jambalya with real cornbread. Korean Barbecue next to the real ziti Italian place.

Invisible Hand

Perhaps this a good thing? This convergence of internationalism. It has been said that the best way to combat wars is through trade. If all these countries rely on each other, then we are less apt to war with each other. That was the logic behind NAFTA. Why mess with the paycheck? Moreover, stuff gets cheaper. More choices creates competition. When restaurants battle with each other for food choices, then we are apt to get better value, more bang for our buck.

Been Made

A lady is staring at me. She must have seen me taking pictures of the background. Hispanic or Middle Eastern. Don’t really want to stare. She is giving me a look I can't decipher yet. Mad-dogging or gazing? Not really my type. She plays with her blackberry. Don’t know if she has taken picture of me, like I have taken pictures of others. I heard a flash. C’est la vie. Maybe I will be background for her photo on Facebook.

Unguarded Moments

People don’t really smile too much when they take stilted pictures. Not of action. Just a standing there. A portrait picture with Farmers Market background. A portrait picture with a Niagra Falls background. A portrait picture with stuffed ancient pachyderms. Its nice and all, but the photos I prefer are those unguarded moments where they are aux naturale. No, not commando. Its where they are caught in the moment. Not in some artificial pose. Its feels more honest.

New Zealander, British, Allemand?

Many types are here in the Farmers Market. Beach shorts and sandals. Try not to look touristy, but they stand out. Cowboy hats with an English (maybe Australian) accent ordering Crab Louie and clam chowder. Wonder if they think its an authentic LA experience. Soup was probably out of a can.  Oops, not English at all. German. Gutentaag. Guten morgen. Guten something. The glass cased refrigerator shows the freshly made Bay Shrimp Tostado Salad. Poached Salmon Salad. Jumbo Shrimp cocktail. They stare for minutes.

This a nice place to sit.  Cool breeze. The waft of the open furnace say, “Choose me.” 

Orders Up

A redheaded young lady waits in front of Moishes. Laced black top and a short, short nude skirt. Red bag at hand. I wonder where she is from. Don’t think she is from Southern Cal. Doesn’t have that air confidence about her. This seems awkward. Ordering Food,  Reminds me when I go with my niece and ask her to order. She seems unassured with herself. It seems like the redhead doesn’t want to be judged. She waits for a falafel. Yeah. Bell rings again. 12:30. She give her dad a bump of indecisiveness.She reminds me of Shell.

Oooh, Donuts. Oh Oh, Pigeons. Don’t feed the pigeons. Saw one almost fly in the face of a man. His sisters and brothers laughed at this near mid-air collision. Fresh fish and chips (Drool). A mother asks her daughter what she wants to eat. Louis Vitton bags. Books of junk. Something that will clutter her already filled closet. A man with name tag. Must be working at CBS studio next door.

David, Your Food Is Ready

Anna is her name. Red-head, blue eyes. Moishes calls out your name when your food is done. Hillary, John, Kiko, Israel—those were the names so far. Robert is yelled out. A lady with an oxygen tank walks by. Her tube is interlaced into her clothes. Baseball capped kids. Shouts in smile. Man with a suit and sleeve tattoos. Tie still needs to be made.  Well, these are just the sights to see in the Farmers Market. Wait. Here’s another sight. A couple is holding hands. Both are missing a front tooth. They match. Now that’s devotion.

Parking?!*)@

Well, its time to go. My validation is almost up. Been here almost two hours. Sometimes parking is ridiculous in LA. Some places downtown, its $2 every 15 minutes, maximum $20 a day. Thing is "Every 15 minutes" is in small print. 

LACMA is calling. People are asking each for an empty seat. When I leave, there will be a mad dash for this table I am sitting at. Its happened twice already. People are waiting and its time to run. Its been a nice couple of hours at the Farmers Market.