30th January 2013
I left Whittier on the bus 40 and headed down this long Boulevarde. I watched the people get on and off the bus. A lady told me to watch out as men flirt a lot and when they know I am Australian to be careful. I was told to watch my things. I took on board her cautions but I am here to live life what will be will be.
I noticed a lot of Hispanic people and thought about the socialist orientation of Hispanics and how that affected the republicans. I saw a few afro Americans and am curious. I’ve already seen some attitude from one female bus driver who wouldn’t look at me when I was talking.
I watched a grandfather (Mexican) with his grandson, who was nodding off to sleep, I saw Asian people and Spanish. It is a multicultural society and very interesting. I noted the boarder was only a few hundred kilometres away and many settle in LA. The public transport system is quite good and so far I am not caught in traffic. I’ve caught the metro and met a nice sax player who just did a gig at the Virgin islands, he told me he plays with a range of musicians and has his own band. He said there are many that know each other in the music scene some are clicky he said. I could well believe it ‘being seen to be’. I said to him imagine all the people you make happy through music. He asked for my card, I gave it and smiled. Perhaps he looks over my peace work.
The trains are an underground metro and you can get around the city with the train, which is great. LA is actually not flat but has mountains and there is snow. The streets are wide and the houses for the most part seem nice. As you get closer into the city they tend to look more dilapidated and there are bars on the windows. I saw a few guys playing basketball and some hanging in groups. I saw some old guys hanging together in a park at tables, of the same community.
There is a sense of distrust here but at the same time I’ve seen some old ladies smiling, so it is a mixed bag and I am curious to observe more.
It is so funny I have made my way to Hollywood got out corner of Vine/Hollywood. I am curious. I find myself in a café listening to this guy asking this girl if she wants to be Brittney Spears. This young girl has a guy with a long ponytail and a woman with dark glasses talking to her. I can’t hear that well but hear words like ‘tape’, ‘viral’, ‘money’, ‘you want to sell to people’, ‘experience’, ‘music video’ and I have to smile at this industry.
When I was walking down Sunset Boulevard I am thinking about the violence that has come out of this small section of Los Angeles. I see the stars on the pavement like a pathway to stardom. I feel the dreams here yet does it bring people happiness.
I overheard the guy saying … If you have a great script, you will get by if you have a great story. In the end they don’t care about anything else. If you have the best production values in the world, design, and you have no story… essentially you won’t get anywhere.
Yet in my view the greatest stories have not been told. We have made up for lack of talent with special effects and an industry which I imagine would have lots of hoops to jump through. I can see it would be easy to lose yourself in an imagined future and money.
I am watching the young girl who is doing a lot of listening, she is wearing a military style top and she looked tired to me. She sits with two movie insiders.
The guy is a good talker and hasn’t stopped much, it feels like selling to me. The woman appears to be backing him up so I am not sure what they are seeking to do with this young girl. He said ‘you have to look good, you are attractive.’
I find it interesting to be in a place where people are seen to be, hopeful to be seen. I see myself sitting here in my red beret and red top and wonder how I appear. Perhaps I am in the industry perhaps I am seen as a hopeful, perhaps I am rich, perhaps not. Although I am sure they know through brand names who is in and who is not. I couldn’t be in this type of world, I have to be myself.
I am at Starbucks and just met an afro American who lives here. He said some people are okay some are not. He said he loves the mountains but wouldn’t climb them, too high. He had a bit of an unstable look in his face and I sensed he was gay. Yet my inner feeling is warmth towards him. I showed him the 100 foot wave in the New York Times and he was amazed at the surfer. I said he is either brave or crazy.
Another guy walked in about 60 years with his typewriter, I am surprised he has a typewriter. He spotted me as he came in and sat with me. I notice a script on his typewriter. I only think now why he did that, perhaps for me, because he bought something. I exchanged a few words with him asking if he was a local. He said yes, I asked what it was like here. He said okay. I saw he wasn’t that happy in his eyes. He went and came back and I said goodbye he said he’d be back and didn’t come back. So interesting the discourse.
I just had a chat with a retired New York policeman. He apparently arrived in New York from New Jersey when he was 15. I met him as an older man say around 65 and in a wheelchair and on dialysis. He has had to come to Starbucks to plug in his battery to power his wheelchair. He went to another place earlier and they wouldn’t let him plug in. He showed me the stump on his leg. He has lost his foot through diabetes and his toes. He has lost peripheral vision. He had a scar from his belly button to the top of his chest where they opened him up. He said he has to go on dialysis 3 days a week. That is where they take out his blood, clean it and replace it. He told me he has 9 children (5 girls 4 boys) and they don’t know he is in a wheelchair. He explained some were high court judges and lawyers. He doesn’t want to worry them about his illness and pull them out of work. I said it is important for them to know. They love their dad. Sounds like he is a kind father. I asked him about policing in New York and he said there was a lot of violence. He said he was good at picking people, became perceptive. I asked him what he learned, he said to shoot. I asked him what caused the violence he seemed to think it wouldn’t change. I asked about parenting. I told him I teach values and positive behaviour. I questioned role models. He didn’t disagree but didn’t really add to it, I guess his experience was not so much to solve the social problems but to police them. He had had disappointments in his marriage as well. He told me he threw out his wife when he caught her sleeping with a man. He came home early and nearly shot the guy. He said the guy fled and he threw her out. He said he has been single ever since. I thought it is a lonely life for some. He is very independent. He is plugging in his electric wheelchair so he can power it to the hospital. He will get some maccas and then go home to Long Beach. Not easy travelling around in a wheelchair given his career. I had a debate with the girls here at Starbucks as they wouldn’t let him use the toilet, he had to buy something. They wouldn’t give the code. So I bought him a donut so he could get the code. What is $2? The girl tried to explain they get all sorts in here and some spit on her and are disrespectful. They said it is a rule and if they give to one they have to give to others. It made me think about our society and how we treat people, I know love is the answer and if we were in each other’s shoes, what then. At the end of the day he is a man on dialysis, will harm no-one is plugging in his wheel chair so he is mobile and needs to go to the toilet. Let him go is my vote. I asked this man how he goes on, he says he never gives up. He did consider shooting himself but stopped himself. Incredible to think a man who protected the public, was a strong policeman and now he is physically declining and still strong. Yet he is vulnerable. He told me he didn’t shoot himself as he had something to live for. We talked for a while and showed him my photos of clowning and saw joy in his eyes, so I was happy to share. I said goodbye to Casey.
Then a transvestite passed by the window and saw me. S/he came in dressed as a she and asked to sit with me. S/he chose me as there were empty seats but sat with me. S/he had a friend outside. S/he proceeded to tell me s/he likes white guys. We spoke of love and s/he told me the story of her life. She said she was from Mexico (will use female as in truth she was). Yes a transvestite but a female in a man’s body. She had a beautiful 20’s style hat and a pretty face. She told me she had no friends and what would happen if she died who would collect the body? She had no friends. Her father lived here and apparently tried to rape her and she went to a shelter then a mental institution to deal with the trauma of her father. I suggested forgiveness, but realise it is not easy. She was thinking of going back to Mexico to be with her mother. I thought that was a good idea, so important to be with people who love you. She then told me some stories of past lives and how she talked to Einstein and he had a time machine. Yes I know it sounds far out. She told me some far out stories but to me it was not about my judgment it was to be an ear so she felt heard. I listened intently with great warmth and suspended belief. She said she was influenced by Satan, I didn’t believe that as I saw kindness in her. She said she could be unforgiving of people. I said we are all human. She also said she was an angel, and later a fallen one. I saw nothing but a person trying to gain a sense of identity and who was gentle. She said she didn’t want anyone to see her beauty. Yet I could and I said so. I couldn’t go with the negative side she was saying. I just saw good. She was grateful and we shook hands. She said we may meet again, I said you never know. She said I was an angel. I truly love people I don’t care what shape or size or colour, if I can be a mirror to show them their beauty I will be that for them. I am not here to judge anyone.
Then I walked down to the Metro it was about 7.30pm and caught the train towards Union Station getting off at Pershing Station. I missed my stop and then had to go back one stop. I left the station and was disoriented. I asked a policeman about the buses he was polite, especially since I was a foreigner, but didn’t really know he suggested I go to the map but I didn’t recognise the bus numbers, I knew my bus was 40. I ended up asking a dark guy (funny how I need to refer to colour, it is irrelevant in truth) and he asked a lady in Spanish and she, through her child (translator), told me to go back up 4th street and then left. I found another person who walked me to the bus stop. I found out on the bus that I had caught the last bus and the 40 didn’t go all the way I had to get off at an intersection and catch the Line 10 going East toward Whitwood Mall, then I get off and walk north up Norwalk for 1 mile to Beverley and then left and walk until Carly where I was staying. On the bus I met a very interesting man around 70 who was an educator in drug and alcohol. He was teaching people Maths and literacy to try and help them hold down a job. Many had difficulties. He said only 20% came out of drugs, 80% stayed in it. This was a better recovery rate compared to 7% national rate. He told me the people into drugs were across society but they typically had suffered a trauma and sought to feel better by taking drugs. Those who did come out made decisions they had had enough. I told him about clowns and the positivity and how good it would be for kids to experience happiness without drugs and to reach out to community. I told him it was disarming to smile and it could be done very gently and in a fun way. He said he liked what I was saying. He also commented on Australian he said they have a different way of seeing he noted when he met with Australians. He said they travel, whereas Americans don’t. that was true, we travel a lot. We tend to not fear the world and go into it to explore. I find I have no fear that is why I can be on a bus at 8pm in Los Angeles and then walking home. He said in some parts of LA you have to be careful and there would be some who would hurt a clown but he did acknowledge that would be rare. I sense the truth in that. We had a lovely chat and he was all smiles. He said I was unique or something to that affect. I felt the warmth and we shook hands and parted, leaving impressions.
I walked up the road just enjoying the fresh air and hoping I would recognise the intersection, only been there once. I found it and thankfully did recognise it. Had I caught the bus this morning out the front I would have been lost but instead walked to the shops and the intersection of Beverly and Norwalk. So all was good. As I came in Elia was relieved I was okay. She then offered to take me to Mexican. She had a great day as she got tenants, bond and could return bond to another tenant and pay her bills. So we celebrated. We have come from similar backgrounds and I see so much in common between us such as outgoing personalities, the love of helping people and having lived independent lives. Both of us are survivors. She said anon groups have helped as her ex husband was an alcoholic and sister. She said the 10 step plan is excellent. What is good in the Spanish community is that the women all bring food, the men are mostly the reformed alcoholics and the women create the community, so good for healing.
I’ve come back with a full stomach, many stories and feeling tired. It was a great day. What a wonderful world in all its shapes and colours. I would have it no other way.