pedestrian saga

I *heart* L.A. County Bicycle Coalition! I could just squeeze ‘em tight and plant big smooches on ‘em…

Ehm. Okay, I think I’ve managed to rein in my sloppy affection now, for the time being anyway. I’ll try to resist rapture as I tell you all about today’s fantastic Hallowood bicycle tour. Spooks and Spokes was “one of a series of Sunday Bicycle Tours of culture, art, food, and love in L.A.” that the aforementioned LACBC organizes. Can you feel the love? I feel the love. I feel it to some degree every time I mount my bike and pedal off in search of adventures great and small. Today that feeling was sustained throughout, but there was a particularly big rush of it at the end as I speeded down Riverside Drive toward home, racing the early nightfall, in highest gear and legs pumping, and you would’ve needed a nasty ghoul indeed to scare the satisfied grin off my face.

All right. Abstract ecstasy aside, let’s get down to the gory details. (more…)

Lately I’ve been drawn to the articles of Salon Life. I slouch over my computer (too) late at night reading Cary Tennis’s advice or the latest cheeky sex feature. It’s got to be the most eclectic corner of the Salon. Maybe I’ve gravitated there seeking respite from the breathless intensity of the election politics on the front page. Let’s face it– I’m decided when it comes to the election. But when it comes to life– hmm. Undecided fence-straddler– confused, emotional, curious– timidly stepping out to gather information in advance of making decisions, choosing new directions.

Well, anyway. At the very least, these reads are good for a giggle. And I often admire the writing too, no matter the subject.

This might be a "you had to be there" kind of thing, but I felt such glee tonight at the fortuitous connection between this profile of the "customer service crush" and Tom Waits’s hilariously poignant rendition of the phenomenon in the prologue to his "Invitation to the Blues," live in Warsaw. (The latter was conjured from some remote tangle of the Internet by the wizard of Corvallis. Thank you, Scott!)

During this morning’s REM, I experienced the most ludicrous dream logic. In my dream, I listened to the radio news report on a recent study that had found that– well, you see, turns out a majority of the audio cassette tapes littering the Pacific Ocean along the coast of Los Angeles County (?) were recordings of music about fruit and vegetables only (??). No meat, no animal products whatsoever were alluded to on most of those tapes. The study seemed to insinuate that it was those self-righteous veggie-head hippie liberals whose 1980s music collections were polluting our ocean. Damn hypocrites, all of them! I gleaned this immediately and sensed that the fingers were pointing at me. What strictly vegetarian music did I once have on cassette tape that might have found its way into the bay? Was there any damning evidence amongst my old tapes that would identify me as part of the vegetarian-music-loving liberal contingent?

Waking to real-world logic, I had a good chuckle and made a mental note to seek out some yummy vegetarian music. Anyone have suggestions? (If you do, you ought to consider volunteering your knowledge!) This is the best candidate I can think of off the top of my head.

By this morning it was already late in the workweek and so I was of course late to start the day. I walked with the pups along one of our regular routes, one of the deep ruts we’ve cut in our corner of East Hollywood. Just past the library I had to steer them around a dead kitten lying in the parkway. They licked their greedy little chops and tugged at their leash, but the will of this pack leader prevailed. No scavenging. No, thank you.

At the end of my Very Long Day, I threw myself into the car and started for home through Griffith Park, the slow steady scenic route I usually take to avoid the unpredictable snarls of the I-5 freeway. For a minute I scolded myself for not bucking the rut and taking the fast road home to the dogs - it was almost 9:00 and so rush hour was probably over. Then suddenly my headlights revealed a coyote in all its splendor, casually standing watch in the picnic grass beside the road! I slowed to savor the encounter as much as I could from within my giant steel cage. I felt a little more human… and a little more animal.