What For Why?

There's something on my mind. I can't figure it out, but maybe if I think it through here, the answer will present itself. There's this street I walk over to, as the library's on it. If I go to the library straight from home, I take Magnolia. If I stop off at the post office first, I take Chandler. If I take the former, it's all good. It's a quick walk and the intersections are fine. The sidewalk's a little narrow on one side, but the other is fine. It's the ideal way to go.

If I stop off at the post office, it's fine until get to where Chandler intersects with the library's street. There can be found one of the worst intersections in the neighborhood. It's not as spectacularly bad as the five way intersection to the south, but in its own way, it's nearly as unpleasant. For whatever reason, the cycle takes much longer than any other four way intersection around. I don't really know why that is, but I know that I hate it.

The Universe Provides A Weirdo

The other day, I found myself hoping to think of one more idea that I could develop into a post for this blog, but rather at a loss. It helps sometimes to remove myself from the work area, thus taking the pressure off. Walking away has the further benefit of potentially putting me in physical contact with some stimuli that does spark an idea. I used to take walks in search of material regularly, but that is infrequent now. Perhaps I should renew the practice.

On this particular occasion it worked, although I'm not certain of how glad I am. I went down the the lobby of my building to check the mail. There was nothing for me, as is typical. I looked outside, and resolved to take advantage of the opportunity to go outside during daylight hours (as I didn't have a good reason to otherwise that day). I stepped outside and basked in the sunlight. I then decided to walk around a bit. Here was my mistake, or maybe not.

The Glue Of North Hollywood

I was walking through my neighborhood the other day, which has been a more infrequent occurrence in recent weeks, and I passed by the gateway that marks the southern entrance to North Hollywood. It's a rather large one straddling the main thoroughfare of Lankershim Boulevard. It's painted a very garish shade of green, with highlights of equally unsavory colors. The entire effect makes it look as if it was stolen from a college dormitory complex- one designed by en elderly school president with no real idea of youthful fashions.

Needless to say, it's deeply unpopular around the neighborhood, and it only becomes less liked when people learn of its steep price tag. I believe it costed something in the area of $700,000. It's generally considered to not be worth the price, and it probably isn't, but putting a value on art is a difficult proposition. It's easier to say that the cost exceeds the level of appreciation by those who ultimately can be said to have bought it.

The Impossible

Los Angeles has many virtues, and I like to think that I can see them more clearly than most, but I can see as keenly as anyone its faults. One of those which affects me maybe slightly less than it does others is the layout of roads. I say it may affect me slightly less because I do not drive, but I do live here, and in that I cannot avoid the roads no matter how I try. In such cities as this that even partly predate the advent of cars, the roads are sometimes imperfectly adapted for them.

A consequence of that is that some intersections are awfully complicated and nearly impossible to negotiate in a speedy fashion. I have written of one in the past where three roads intersect, but it warrants repeating. If one sees it as a wagon wheel, you may imagine that several of the spokes go unconnected by crosswalks. One corner is a triangle that juts into the intersection, and there is no legal way to walk to it save a half mile walk out of the way.

The Bus Stops Here

There are some things that I don't think of, and then something finally brings it to my attention. I wind up feeling stupid, but when I get over that there's a stimulating thing to think about. It's very rewarding. Anyway, there was one of those incidents when I was walking back to my building, and noticed a school bus stopped out front. A gaggle of children got off and went inside. Of course, I was aware that kids lived in the building, but that's all I was aware of.

The first thing I did was to look at my watch. It was about four in the afternoon, so I decided that this checked out. It adds up that the kids might get out some time before three, and that therefore the bus would leave the school a bit after that and deposit the kids there when I saw them arrive. No, there was no issue with the timing whatsoever. There never was, though. Why should the timing of school letting out or the arrangements for transportation change?

Aiding And Abetting

In my neighborhood, like in so many urban neighborhoods across the country, there are pigeons. They are unpleasant, although they could be worse here than they are. The do not maraud or lay down coats of excrement to a really gratuitous degree. Still, they are far worse than they could be as well, since I don't see any reason for them to be here at all, nearly. Certainly under natural circumstances the place is not really hospitable to them.

Here is where the human element comes in. I don't get some people. You'll see how someone risked their life or even died to save a cat that wandered into the road, and just what is the upshot of such heroics? A mean, amorous night-owl of a cat that draws breath for another day. It's a similar story with the pigeons. They are loathsome creatures, and yet someone feeds them- desires that they hang around here!

The Quiet Broken

You wonder how some people live. Just what is the nature of the battle they are fighting? How do they maintain at least a draw every day? You can find some compassion for them, but how is there to be sympathy or empathy without understanding? I begin to think with some people that I have some idea about them, but I'm probably wrong. Other people I'm smart enough to know that I can't even begin to hazard a guess about their nature.

There's not enough information about some people. There are just moments. There was this man I heard out on the street the other night. It was one of those moments where I knew I'm really not like other people. Somehow it occurred to me that nobody else I know would have gone outside to walk around the block after two in the morning after dropping something off in the building's outgoing mail slot. It follows, therefore, that nobody else I know would have been there to hear this man screaming and cursing.

The Shop Around The Corner

You'll recall from previous posts my interest in the development of local commercial properties and residential lots. Specifically, where there is an empty storefront I am watching and waiting for what will fill it. It has been slow in many cases, but sooner or later something will come in and occupy something that has been vacant for sometime. It is, I hope, a reflection of an improving economy. Of course, not every new business that so fills a void is terribly welcome.

Some are real disappointments. I recall an empty space back in Highland Park that eventually was taken by some purveyor of cheap toys. That was a real letdown. Likewise there is this new places that is poised to open up in a place out on the corner of my very own street. For some time I tried to figure out what it must be destined for, that place. There were no real clues except that there was a lot of activity in the back. What was happening in the front was obscured.

Good Old Old Man

There's this old guy that I see in my neighborhood. I have to describe the layout of my street. One side is all apartment buildings, and the other side is some houses and some smaller apartment buildings. The street at one end leads to a small street which is adjacent to a major road, and the other end leads directly to the next major road. As I walk out to that second major road, there is on the near right corner a vacant storefront which is oddly busy in the back. That's where the man is.

I wonder plenty what all the work in the back is about if there's nothing going on out front. It's enough to be suspicious, and the old man does nothing to allay that. It's bad enough that he's there without that, though. I feel dread about passing him, and it's not that he's remotely unpleasant (because he's not) or that he will just be sitting there asleep in his chair or otherwise minimally aware of his surroundings (although that is true).

Cool Street

I've lived in lousy neighborhoods out in Los Angeles, and I've lived in ones that were allegedly up-and-coming. If those latter districts were truly on the rise, then either I didn't see it from my vantage point or I couldn't see the forest for the trees, as they say. It's more likely to be the latter. In any case, I now can say I'm in a neighborhood that really is transitioning into a thriving area before my eyes. This probably means I will be priced out before long unless I grow with it.

The main street that runs north and south has plenty of new and established spots, but it's the nearest major east and west thoroughfare that's really exciting these days. It has long been distinguished by a number of small theaters, but was until recently also marred by some lesser lights that are now gone. Enduring along with the theaters are a thrift store, some character-laded restaurants, and a marijuana dispensary about which I cannot speak with authority.

The Jungle Tamed

I believe I may have made reference in the past to the sidewalk which runs in front of my apartment building and on down the side street on which I live. Dependable sidewalks are not to be taken for granted here. Many streets in this city do not have any sidewalk to speak of, and on those that do, there are many points at which they are nearly impassable for one reason or another. The block on which my building lies has a good sidewalk on both sides, but one side on one end is rather treacherous at times.

It will not take any great stretch of your imagination to accept that the city is slow to carry out maintenance on things which would seem to be within its purview, sidewalks being among the most neglected. Forget about keeping the concrete of which they are made intact- it's more than they can manage to trim back the overgrowth on anything like a consistent basis. That's what makes this little area so interesting.

Next On The Hit List

It's always tough waiting for the other shoe to drop. As in most things, what is the most affecting is not the act or the aftermath. The former is a relief and the latter is seldom as bad as one may expect. No matter how sure you are that something will happen, some well-intentioned part of you insists that it may not, and so you wonder. The anticipation and the wondering are what ages a person. Better to have a horrible thing spring at you from nowhere than to be forewarned by any amount of time. Better to resign oneself to the worst.

That would be my recommendation to the two stores left in a strip mall near my home which is slowly but surely being renovated. Not so long ago, the four stores there were all in shabby condition. None could be faulted for this so long as all were in the same shape. Unfortunate it is then that a burger place and a drugstore have chosen to come in and tune up their digs in advance of opening. The dry cleaner and laundromat were never going to do anything about their deteriorating edifice otherwise.

Bad Sign A Good Sign

I live in North Hollywood, which is something more than an 'up and coming' neighborhood, but not quite a firmly established one. We have a core to build on in the Arts District, and welcoming all motorists and pedestrians traveling into that area from the south is a grand sign spanning Lankershim Boulevard up high. It is a rather polarizing sign. I will say that a consensus could be build around a description of it as very boldly designed.

There's always going to be criticism from some quarter or another when art is presented. No piece can please everyone, and so there is nothing worse than art conceived, created and approved by committee. There has to be one hand on the tiller in order for any hope of success, and with this sign there clearly had to have been a singular vision. No effort seems to have been expended towards the end of making everyone happy.

Alley Oop

Every once in a while, I'm seized by the urge to go for a walk. Lest you draw the wrong conclusion from that fact, I will say that it has nothing whatsoever to do with my health. Any such benefit is purely ancillary. The real motivation comes from my fairly strong spirit of exploration. I'm a curious guy, and sometimes I just like walking around, looking around. It's not necessary for there to be any practical discoveries, but they do sometimes happen. One did in fact happen on one of my earliest excursions in my present neighborhood.

I now live in a building just off the main road in this area. It is lined with more or less bustling shops and restaurants. Customers access them from that main road. Proprietors do so by way of the alley behind them. I love that alley. It's an excellent short cut in certain situations provided I am alert enough to avoid the occasional car and truck traffic which sometimes clogs it up. Even if it weren't a handy way of getting places, I would play it up as one solely so that I would have something to be in the know about. who doesn't love being an insider about something?

What The Pedestrian Saw

I saw something that to me seemed rather remarkable, so the second I got home and started my laundry, then browsed the internet for a while, I made sure to record it here for posterity. My first observation was of a screeching sound behind me as I crossed the street. I immediately connected it with an out-of-control car, and jerked my head around to see in case I would need to take evasive maneuvers. The next thing I saw was an older-looking sedan slowing down and weaving around a bit with a second car riding its bumper.

It occurred to me that the front car must have or at least could have experienced a blowout, but in retrospect I could not recall hearing anything which would correspond with that, so I think now it could merely have been a flat. Here's where it gets interesting. The driver of the front car burst out, plainly furious. He began to take threatening steps towards the rear car, and while I was stunned, my mind began working at imagining what his grievance could possibly be towards the rear car. My present speculation is that he may have found it to have damaged his bumper.

World Street

I happened to be dropping off a piece of mail in my building's lobby when I chanced to glance out the front, which is mostly glass. Since I can easily go many days without leaving my apartment, I seized the opportunity to be able to say that I had gone outside today no matter how things transpired. Once I stood outside, I decided to go a little further and make a complete circuit of the street I live on, or at least the single block of it. It was an edifying experience.

I started thinking about the multiple concentric shapes that constitute one's home at different levels. I say 'shapes' because they really aren't circles, but irregular shapes. At one end is one's own bed and at the other the universe itself. In between there are many 'homes', but one in particular interests me at the moment, and that as I said is the street my building is on. It only took a few minutes to walk the entire thing around, but it's astonishing how much there is in it. At one end is the busy main road, populated by various businesses. The small burger restaurant with only outdoor seating is most prominent from my perspective. On this particular day it was closed for no reason I could discern. Opposite that is an alley that goes on for some blocks and ends at the next major intersecting road.

Streets Of Glendale

I've begun to get something of a feel for the streets that it appears I'll be walking the rest of the time I'm in the neighborhood where I presently dwell, and it's really rather pleasant. A couple of times when I've been plodding along past the high school on my way home after a late night, I've been struck by a potent feeling of contentment with that main road off of which I turn for the side street my apartment is on. Often it's very quite, peaceful and lightly traveled if not entirely devoid of activity. The people who are on the streets both day and night often look as if they have considerably more going for them than their counterparts in my past neighborhoods. Someone like me walking around this area may not be probable cause in itself as it was in North Hollywood.

It's not entirely good though, or at least not entirely straight forward. That high school I have adopted as the one of my community. I feel a kind of a stake in its fortunes as they rise and fall. The other night it appeared as if they hosted a football game, and worked-up students swarmed over the streets. I confess that it feels a bit odd to be around students like that. High school was a while ago for me, and I'm not sure how far removed I am from their station in life. It's just a peculiar thing to be there at the same time and in the same place as people still consumed with quandaries like PE and rounding up dates for all-important school dances. I wasn't any good at either thing, I ought to note. Still, I feel positively about the school and its students. By all appearances, they seem as upstanding and well-balanced as any I could ever have called my peers.

Into The Parking Lot Of Death Walked The Hungry

The post I wrote about a fantasy-inspiring neighborhood street led me to thinking about another thing of asphalt which provokes strong thoughts and feelings. This one is not as positive, but it's very close geographically to the other. When I'm at home, want something to eat and there's nothing good in the kitchen, there are a few realistic options. I like the deli sandwiches they have at the grocery store, which is half a mile away. That closes at midnight. The food at the fast food restaurant out on the corner is passable at best, and that closes even a bit earlier. Often my preference, day or night, is the third possibility: the convenience store, which has tasty and cheap hot dogs.

There are some hurdles involved. The staff is often uncommunicative, unhelpful and surly. I generally don't go unless I have cash since an incident with their card machine. Cash has its own pitfalls, as evidenced by an incident with a twenty dollar bill that I thought was a one. The most consistent obstacle is the parking lot  there. The convenience store is just a few hundred yards away, most of it through an expansive parking lot that serves the aforementioned store, a restaurant that is now out of business, and residents of an adjacent apartment building (that last perhaps not legally). I sure wouldn't leave a car there, but others do. It serves others, does that lot.