March 7 2010
The memory is vague, but the last time I visited Sunset Junction to see Elliott Smith’s iconic “Figure 8” album cover location, I was with Manny. I do remember thinking how special it was that fan’s notes to the late songwriter were visible for everyone to read. The location, like many murals around Los Angeles, became a tribute to the artist.
I mentioned to my visiting coworkers if they wanted to see it and they jumped at the chance. It was around midnight, but we had all the elements involved to create a small adventure. Visitors were heading back to New York City, we were all Elliott Smith fans and we were giddy. We took Alvardo from Wilshire to Sunset, made a left and drove. I saw the McDonald’s near the site from a few blocks away, and there it was, except it wasn’t.
The notes are now covered by giant slabs of paint brushed incoherently and rudimentary. The iconic navy and blue swirls can be seen, but they’ve been submerged. Maybe this is the natural course of a public space, but really it’s a reminder that everyone is erased sooner or later. I think today was the first day I ever cursed graffiti.
March 6 2010
Dark clouds hovered overhead and the parking lot was slick and wet, but they continued to beat their drums and stomp their feet. They danced for seven hours, even when the rains came and the people had gone. Above, Aztec dancers in the East Los Angeles Public Library parking lot.
March 5 2010
My tío Francisco – a person I’ve never know as my “tío Francisco”, but more commonly known simply as “Pancho” – turned 70-years-old yesterday. He’s the eldest of the five De La Cruz brothers and has one of the heartiest laughs around. His laugh is the signature to his persona. The other characteristic I find notorious is his welcome shrug. It’s the type of body language that says “Ay, paisano, how you doin?”, or “Que onda, mano? Como estas?” I don’t ever think of Pancho without picturing him tilt his head slightly toward the sky, drop his eyes under his frames, shrug his shoulders, lift his hands and say “Ey…que pasa, mijo?” My reply is usually “Nada, tío.” To which, like the gloom coming in around the late Spring months in Los Angeles, it’s a certainty my uncle will reply “Nada mucho?”
The kids in our family love Pancho because he’s always there to give them a treat, lift them on his shoulders, and then chase them around. He’s also the only one in the family with a pool. Happy Birthday, Pancho.
March 4 2010
I’m not sure the hands are right, but the hats surely are.
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