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Feb. 22nd, 2004 05:28 pmGot myself togther to go to PJ and Ana's for their eldest kid's 2nd birthday, and as is normal with all of us, folks were running on CP time (that's "Color'd People's Time" for the uninitiated). I got out a bit behind schedule, and hit the wet road zooming.
[cue up Criminal by Fiona Apple]
Compton to Pomona: Wet freeways, and hap-hazzard accidents sprinkled like so much salt on a black tablecloth. Enough to notice, but no one really cares about them for anything other than the minor annoyance. A flury of rain, a flip flip flosh of whipers over a greasy window, a couple of turns later and a friend's house is reached.
PJ and Ana and Ana's mom and brothers are there with the Young PJ. They are making Carne Asada and all the trimmings to go with it. We check out PJ's new car, and talking about whatever. We hang for a while, all the other grandparents are late, and there are some other family that is arriving shortly. It is good to see all of them, as I haven't since PJ and Ana celebrated the birth of their youngest. Everyone is polite, and sweet, and patient with the little bit of Spanish that I know and the little bit of English that they know, and there are smiles all around, and calm, quiet celebration. It is how a good 2 year old's birthday should be: Simple, and intimate.
I take my leave, with love all around, and tromp through the rain to my car, crank her up and head home.
[cue up OK Computer, by Radiohead]
Pomona to Compton: Sunset over a cloudy, wet-grey sky. The glow of red tailights reflecting on the obsidian glaize of the freeway. Start and stop, and quick fast, quick fast all the way back home.
Shower, shave, directions, and a phone call or two. And then back out the door to meet Anusha et al. in Hollywood.
[cue up Hail to The Thief, by Radiohead]
A quick trip, and almost no traffic running through LA. Different and a bit weird.
I make it to Little Thailand to a little hole in the wall fast food table service Thai restaurant, and Jorge and Anusha and some of their friends are there, and we sit and eat and talk talk talk. Good time. A very good time. We catch up on some of our friends, each other and coo over the food.
After much discussion and procrastination, and trying to figure it out we head down the street to Palms Thai Restaurant for dessert and warm saki...and Thai Elvis. That's right--a Thai Elvis Impersonator. Amazingly great voice and awesome ice cream, and a pissed off looking waitress ("No food? Only dessert and beer? Oh.") After another guy went on singing John Denver and Simon and Garfunkel covers, we made our way in the rain back down the street to our cars and said our goodbyes.
Good times.
[cue "There There" by Radiohead on repeat]
Streaking down hollywood blvd. to vermont to sunset to The Echo for Hang The DJ's to quickly meet up with Ricardo and Dave and Melissa. Just to stick my head in and say hullo, and then out again to hit a party in Long Beach.
Then who should show up but "Brandy," smile in place, and looking DAMN good.
Plan for rest of the night derailed :-)
We get drinks (also not planned) danced, danced, flirted...a lot...talked a lot, laughed, and then went for breakfast at Canters. And talked for two hours over coffee and soup and bagels...about...everything. All the while enjoying her smile, her presence, and just crazy conversation. A really good time out.
[cue "Stepping Out" by Joe Jackson]
LA to Compton: A quiet Phone conversation with Brandy on the way home, and again later to learn that she has made it home okay. A quick second of hydroplane, an even quicker prayer, a correction and a chorus of "Stepping out", and I manage to make it off the freeway, turn down Santa Fe Ave and head home.
The air that late is still, quiet, and damp. Even if it weren't raining, it would be damp, filled with the little bit of moisture that hangs in LA. The road makes that noise that can only come from a rain and oil slicked road near dawn. There are thoughts that go through your head when the music is softly wafting, and there are thoughts of tomorrow, and of today, and of soft smiles, and sweet glances. None of them are overwhelming, and sometimes they are easilly lost in the same mist that encloses around you. Ghosts of if'a, could'a, would'a, should'a, all quickly silenced by a change of tune, the thud of the road, or the sudden change from yellow to red as you pass through an intersection.
Blinker, then a turn, then a driveway. A key in the door, a coat on the floor, and a restless, dream ridden sleep. My last thoughts are of pretty eyes, a warm, soft bed, and of tomorrows.
[cue up Criminal by Fiona Apple]
Compton to Pomona: Wet freeways, and hap-hazzard accidents sprinkled like so much salt on a black tablecloth. Enough to notice, but no one really cares about them for anything other than the minor annoyance. A flury of rain, a flip flip flosh of whipers over a greasy window, a couple of turns later and a friend's house is reached.
PJ and Ana and Ana's mom and brothers are there with the Young PJ. They are making Carne Asada and all the trimmings to go with it. We check out PJ's new car, and talking about whatever. We hang for a while, all the other grandparents are late, and there are some other family that is arriving shortly. It is good to see all of them, as I haven't since PJ and Ana celebrated the birth of their youngest. Everyone is polite, and sweet, and patient with the little bit of Spanish that I know and the little bit of English that they know, and there are smiles all around, and calm, quiet celebration. It is how a good 2 year old's birthday should be: Simple, and intimate.
I take my leave, with love all around, and tromp through the rain to my car, crank her up and head home.
[cue up OK Computer, by Radiohead]
Pomona to Compton: Sunset over a cloudy, wet-grey sky. The glow of red tailights reflecting on the obsidian glaize of the freeway. Start and stop, and quick fast, quick fast all the way back home.
Shower, shave, directions, and a phone call or two. And then back out the door to meet Anusha et al. in Hollywood.
[cue up Hail to The Thief, by Radiohead]
A quick trip, and almost no traffic running through LA. Different and a bit weird.
I make it to Little Thailand to a little hole in the wall fast food table service Thai restaurant, and Jorge and Anusha and some of their friends are there, and we sit and eat and talk talk talk. Good time. A very good time. We catch up on some of our friends, each other and coo over the food.
After much discussion and procrastination, and trying to figure it out we head down the street to Palms Thai Restaurant for dessert and warm saki...and Thai Elvis. That's right--a Thai Elvis Impersonator. Amazingly great voice and awesome ice cream, and a pissed off looking waitress ("No food? Only dessert and beer? Oh.") After another guy went on singing John Denver and Simon and Garfunkel covers, we made our way in the rain back down the street to our cars and said our goodbyes.
Good times.
[cue "There There" by Radiohead on repeat]
Streaking down hollywood blvd. to vermont to sunset to The Echo for Hang The DJ's to quickly meet up with Ricardo and Dave and Melissa. Just to stick my head in and say hullo, and then out again to hit a party in Long Beach.
Then who should show up but "Brandy," smile in place, and looking DAMN good.
Plan for rest of the night derailed :-)
We get drinks (also not planned) danced, danced, flirted...a lot...talked a lot, laughed, and then went for breakfast at Canters. And talked for two hours over coffee and soup and bagels...about...everything. All the while enjoying her smile, her presence, and just crazy conversation. A really good time out.
[cue "Stepping Out" by Joe Jackson]
LA to Compton: A quiet Phone conversation with Brandy on the way home, and again later to learn that she has made it home okay. A quick second of hydroplane, an even quicker prayer, a correction and a chorus of "Stepping out", and I manage to make it off the freeway, turn down Santa Fe Ave and head home.
The air that late is still, quiet, and damp. Even if it weren't raining, it would be damp, filled with the little bit of moisture that hangs in LA. The road makes that noise that can only come from a rain and oil slicked road near dawn. There are thoughts that go through your head when the music is softly wafting, and there are thoughts of tomorrow, and of today, and of soft smiles, and sweet glances. None of them are overwhelming, and sometimes they are easilly lost in the same mist that encloses around you. Ghosts of if'a, could'a, would'a, should'a, all quickly silenced by a change of tune, the thud of the road, or the sudden change from yellow to red as you pass through an intersection.
Blinker, then a turn, then a driveway. A key in the door, a coat on the floor, and a restless, dream ridden sleep. My last thoughts are of pretty eyes, a warm, soft bed, and of tomorrows.
