when things get difficult in any of the ways they might, the first thing i forget is how to feed myself (also in all the ways). i think back to when i realized this; i walked, a few times a week, to the Mexican takeout spot on my way home from the beach until things changed. if you cannot feed yourself, let strangers feed you. if there are no strangers, let the people who love you feed you. and if you get that far, learn to cook or bake for all of them. this afternoon on the drive home from work i stopped for a burrito to practice this again.
the Redondo Beach triangle, a strip mall that, deep into the seventies, backed toward the sea. signs i saw nearby: The Sweetwater, Smokestack, Papa Joe’s. stores between? bone-walls opened from a fire at one address. i asked my mother if she remembers that odd-shaped block we passed near the jetty. not really, but she recalls when it was torn down and the street shifted, locals upset, the whole footprint of the neighborhood sliding into a new eighties shape of hotels and gyms and the shore-look. i still think of before, the skeleton of clubs and the all done: charred, ceilingless spaces tucked between shut-down-forever where no one would rebuild. with its sideways sunlight, it still looked ready for an audience.
it was a long school year, but it was also really wonderful and these people made that part happen. i was glad to celebrate them and the work. the dog was underfoot. there was a piñata to break open. the flowers went home with the guests.
a few of you will remember this. others of you will wonder who this is. me in 2011 days before leaving California for my Roswell, New Mexico, adventure (holy shit, it was absolutely that and five thousand pictures). i like some endings— as you see here. and most beginnings, too; in particular, as one friend notes, the “new chapters that are returns.” leaving Vegas in early summer and wearing an older version of this face.
full stop. in front of the creatures, there’s nothing to think except: here you are, and i see you. when they look back, don’t fall for it. don’t think they say to themselves “i see you too.” they do, but it’s just vision and not your always-extra bullshit. after that, it’s forward for all of us and local radio in the dark.
had the best time with my dad & joan in Vegas. their favorite outing was lunch with Maryam. later in the visit we went to the Neon Museum and found the El Cortez sign, which read: “the place for fun since 1941.” i said to my dad, hey you were born in 1941, too.
