L.A. Anatomía

On a related great Shake Out sidenote, the news was misunderstood by a couple of my out-of-country, non-English speaking relatives last night. They thought Los Angeles was really hit by a 7.8 magnitude earthquake and called up to make sure everything was ok.

In really important news, USC professor Carol Muske-Dukes is the new California poet laureate! The Californian outlines the position as this:

“The California poet laureate works in conjunction with the California Arts Council to bring the poetic arts to Californians and to California students who might otherwise have little opportunity to be exposed to poetry. Before 2001, the position was unofficial and honorary, conferred by the legislature and held for a lifetime. The poet laureate position was officially created by AB 113 by Assemblymember Fran Pavley and signed into law in 2001. Under this legislation, the California Arts Council solicits nominations for the position and then recommends four candidates to the governor. From these nominees the Governor chooses the poet laureate and he or she is confirmed by the Senate. ”

I’ve never read anything by Muske-Dukes but I know AH has. Maybe she’ll point us in the direction of the best our new laureate has to offer?

With all the goings-on of the last couple of weeks–the election, prop 8, the economy, the season finale of Mad Men–I somehow missed the big Shake Out. The facts are this: At 10 AM this morning, millions of Californians participated in a 7.8 magnitude-earthquake drill. According to seismologists, the San Andreas Fault, which is that really REALLY big fault line in California, tends to let an an insanely big shaker loose every 150 years or so. The last one happened 150 years ago, which means that us current Californians might be living in the age of the next big one.

The scenario presented at the Shake Out website offers these details:

An earthquake of this size will cause unprecedented damage to Southern California—greatly dwarfing the massive damage that occurred in Northridge’s 6.7-magnitude earthquake in 1994. In summary, the ShakeOut Scenario estimates this earthquake will cause some 2,000 deaths, 50,000 injuries, $200 billion in damage and other losses, and severe, long-lasting disruption. The report has regional implications and is a dramatic call to action for preparedness.”

The web site also says that a 7.8 earthquake will probably last for 1-2 minutes with after shocks!

So what do I think about this disaster preparation? Considering the world’s rotten luck in the last few years: Katrina, the tsunami, that huge earthquake in India and Pakistan and etc., thinking ahead isn’t such a bad idea. We Californians like to mock earthquake newbies, but the truth of the matter is that we live in a kind of dangerous state–we have earthquakes and wildfires, mudslides and volcanoes, heatwaves and floods and much more. Whatever we can do has just got to be better than nothing, and it always feels better to know you’re being extra cautious when doing so with a couple million other people.

Disneyland is definitely an experience that many a Los Angeleno has loved or endured. During my childhood, I’m sure that I went every three or four years. I remember loving the rides, especially Space Mountain. I remember playing games to cut lines and cheat crowds. I remember dehydrating in the midst of a summer heat, guzzling $5 sodas and devouring too many fries and churros. I remember going on Space Mountain so many times in a row that I felt like I was still on the ride even hours afterwards. Ah, the tolerance of youth! The ability to not get nauseated on moving rides! The strength of the teenage stomach!

My last foray to the Magic Kingdom was about six years ago. California Adventure had just opened, I had a friend who had free tickets that hopped parks and I didn’t have to pay for parking. Over those six or so years, I’d never felt a drive to go back to Disneyland. I guess I believed that I had outgrown this amusement park of legend. But there I was, on Saturday, back. I have to admit that I was a bit worried about feeling overwhelmed by the crowds, strollers, noise and general Disneylandishness of the entire place.

Surprise #1, I found the whole day rather calming.

Surprise # 2, Disneyland has jumped on the healthy-living bandwagon and now has numerous fresh fruit stands in conjunction with the fries, churros, chips, hotdogs, fried chicken, nachos, etc., stands.

Surprise #3 California Adventure is still dull. It is the lackluster younger sibling of Disneyland. I guess as a Californian, I just can’t be wowed by a park that says it will take me for a journey over Camarillo. But I will admit that Soarin Over California, the ride, is a good way to remind tourists and natives that our great state has some great vistas. Otherwise, after the rollercoaster and Hollywood Tower, we hopped over to Disneyland.

Surprise #4 I think the strollers and babies have multiplied by a gazillion.

Surprise #5 Maybe it was because we had a friend in a wheelchair (due to a twisted ankle), but I noticed more people in wheelchairs than ever. Half seemed to be young teenagers who had busted a limb somehow or were faking. The other half seemed to be adults who were obese or had complications with walking because of obesity. I noticed a handful of people who seemed to have a natural disability.

And etc.

What really stood out to me on this trip was that I saw the park so much differently as an adult rather than as a teenager or child. I can see why kids love this place. I can see why they’re dazzled by characters, princess dresses, rides that deify pirates and firework shows that announce in the melodious voice of Julie Andrews that dreams really do come true. But as an adult, I felt a very mellow interest. I didn’t mind being in Disneyland; in fact, I enjoyed myself. But i felt no touch of magic. No serving of fantasy. I saw the stitches that held the place together — the marketeers that came up with the slogans, the CEOs that pondered on new merchandise, the janitors that kept the bathrooms clean, the castmembers that kept their smiles on…..it felt so synthetic. The entire experience was an experience in a box–jumping from Tomorrowland to Adventureland and back to Frontierland. The entire park is a postcard for a greater more vibrant entity like California Adventure is for California. I was reminded of people who spend an entire great event or happening or occurrence or performance taping the program with their video cameras. They never seem to watch the spectacle with their real eyes.

The next day, I walked to my local market and wandered the stalls, buying produce. I bought two pears, a handful of fresh apples and some heirloom tomatoes. I stopped by the herb stall, then I wandered over to the omelet truck and ordered a fresh crepe. When it was done, I took it over to a handful of picnic tables set up under a tree shedding its leaves. Different groups of people were squished on red-checkered cloth-covered tables and I squeezed myself among them. While eating, I listened to a conversation between a husband and wife. She was taking about botany and a book that she was reading–it described how to encourage all kinds of plants to grow and produce fruit.

Taking a bite of my omelet, covered in spicy, spicy sauce, I smiled. There was no need to make yearly pilgrimages to the Magic Kingdom, not when it existed in my backyard.

 I pick my brain

Rumage through trash thoughts

for a satisfying morsel, a deep adjective.

“Spare phrases? Got any phrases to spare?”

They race through the mind and cramp when I pick up a pen

It just drips ink

Blots on the page

In obscure and obtuse ways

What does it look like to you, Al?

Word bank-empty

memories - liquidated

assets- frozen

Is this what it’s like to be homeless?

Have I reach the proverbial bottom?

Does my head rest against it?

Or is that your boney shoulder I drool on?

According to the LA Times, Los Angeles county:

• voted in overwhelming numbers for a Democratic candidate
• agreed by a nose that same-sex unions were unconstitutional and that forcing doctors to notify parents of their underage teen’s choice to have an abortion was just a bad idea
• believed, by more than 30%, that farm animals, specifically chickens, had the right to live fulfilling lives in spacious cages before being slaughtered
• and despite the state’s galactic budget deficit, Angelenos felt nothing could be finer than a fancy bullet train to connect Socal to Norcal—-to be paid over the next 30-40 years.

Oh well, at least we raised the transportation tax by half a cent.

There were so many unprecedented precedents achieved in this US election: the first female presidential candidate, the first Republican female vice-presidential candidate, the first black presidential candidate, the largest voter turnout in the history of the U.S. and the first time I ever voted at a polling place. I’ve never seen such a display of politicism by voters. I heard that parents who dropped their kids off at elementary school and kindergarten overheard young citizens discussing whom they thought would be the best president or what measures they felt needed to be passed. When walking to my polling place, I saw a man standing on that oh-so contested corner, now empty but for him, wearing a red and white-striped cape and brandishing a sign that said: “Before you go to the polls, ask what God would he do”

At 8 PM, the major networks announced that Barack Obama was our newly elected leader. AH and I were together. We acknowledged the absolute jubilation onscrean–streamers, banners, horns and confetti. We acknowledged that that jubilation only mirrored half the thoughts of the citizens of this country. We thought about the slogan being posted on websites everywhere: “Change is here.” And we thought about how tenuous that promise was even at this hopeful new beginning.

Most of all, we remember our Allen Ginsberg and a poem he once penned to America’s poet that says:

      Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors 
close in an hour. Which way does your beard point 
tonight? […]
       Will we walk all night through solitary streets? […]
       Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love 
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent 
cottage?
       Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-
teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit 
poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank 
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black 
waters of Lethe?

excerpt from “A Supermarket in California” (1955)

Monday evening, the intersection in question was complete engulfed by No on Prop 8 supporters. Tuesday morning, the day before the election, I drove into that intersection and a triumphant horde of Yes on 8 peeps. They screamed, shouted and waved their signs victoriously, as if to reclaim the intersection from enemy hands. A few No supporters stood forlornly among the Yes men. They held their signs and tongues.

As I drove back from work, the intersection was surging with even more people, but this time I’d say it was an even match up between Yes and No. They ran back and forth between corners. They demanded that cars honk. They screamed at each other. No one, either on the sidewalk, in the crowd or in their car could possibly tell who was supporting who. When cars honked, the protesters all cheered, believing it was a high-5 for their side.

Election tomorrow. Wish America luck.

For the intersection in question, the one I’ve been discussing here and here, there is a new development: Today, as I was driving through the rain-soaked streets, I noticed that a large cluster of “No on Prop 8″ people stood on one corner while three “McCain & Palin” supporters stood on the other side. At this point, it seems like we drivers are used to such a scene and there wasn’t much honking. What little honking I did hear was for the McCain and Palin folks. I wonder if this is my little bureau of LA’s way of supporting Prop 8, meaning if you vote for McCain and Palin, then you must be in support of Prop 8.

Later that day, I drove east to La Canada, which is a pretty ritzy part of suburbia in the green hills near Pasadena and Glendale. When I exited off the 210, I immediately hit an intersection taken over by Yes people. When I made a left into the neighborhood I had come to visit, I saw every lawn and home had either a “Yes on 8″ sign or “McCain/Palin” sign. But then, I made another left deeper into the neighborhood and saw that this particular street was all about Obama and “No on 8.”

Even later that day,  I met up with AH in Glendale. We sat in Conrad’s, a nifty little diner that AH says is an oasis of Armenian culture in East LA. I told her about the politics of my own little city north of Los Angeles and then that of La Canada. AH said that it didn’t surprise her that La Canada seemed more vocal about supporting Prop 8. Apparently, Pasadena was founded by a conservatives from Indianapolis and such a relation has colored the politics of the city. But again, what surprised AH most was how much activity Los Angeles was generating over this election.

In her words: “California’s supposed to be laid back and chill. What’s up with everyone caring?!”

Three days till the election!

My All Soul’s Day here in Los Angeles was nice and quiet. I watched the last two episodes of Mad Men (finally!) and then some BBC goodness. I left my sanctuary only once to run off to a Golden Spoon for some frozen yogurt. When I arrived, I could see certain characters enjoying their just desserts–an Indian and her Chinese-dressed companion, a panda bear and her human boyfried and etc. The woman in line in front of me, who was dressed as nothing but herself, showed her true colors by ordering exactly what she wanted: A regular-size cup divided into thirds: heath bar, pumpkin pie and cake batter, covered in pecans. I wanted to applaud her. The way she ordered, the way she knew exactly what she wanted and the way she was so excited by the arrival of her three favorite flavors (because of the seasons), awed me. I felt as if ice cream ordering was an art and she was a master of it. In contrast, I hemmed and hawwed, tried several flavors, landed on the right combo (heath bar and pumpking pie, plain), paid, walked outside and saw a puppy! Petted the puppy, went home and continued to enjoy the wonders of the TV set.

I’ve always considered Halloween the swing holiday for California, weatherwise. Around the holiday, the weather gets moody, the days gets cooler and darker and we get wet. What do I mean? Around 3 AM, thunder awoke me. And now it’s All Saint’s Day and the California sky is gray and crying. But that’s ok. We need it.

In conjunction with my post from a few days ago, this time I saw “Yes on Prop 8″ proponents standing at an intersection just one over from the “No” peeps. They stood quietly on a corner with a sign and a few lawns chairs, but no one honked….Or at least, no one that I noticed as I zipped by in my car.  I wonder if the “Yes” people feel like they can’t vocally support the ban because it might make them seem discriminate? They can talk amongst each other, put signs on their lawn, nod to themselves when an ad plays, but I wonder if they believe that they can’t stand up in a public place and shout (like the “No” people) that they think gay marriage is wrong? But, I wonder if they feel they need to do something at least as demonstrative as the “No” people by at least standing outside with a sign?

I just think it’s interesting how all this is playing out.