day 32, what is now normality
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los angeles, oh, you’re not so pretty. there’s nothing particularly charming about your grimy sidewalks, your wealthy or your poor, your odor or your crowd. Your weather is lovely, but now reminiscent of even my own city. Yet there is still something here, and it is you and I, it is those who make up the overcrowded streets, who create the stentch, who grime the sidewalks. We are here and we are beautiful, like the night sky dancing with search lights, the papaya tree in the backyard and the mockingbird who sings us to sleep. Like the children who wake us with their laughter and the siesta’s in the stuffy supermarkets, we are here, we are broken and we are beautiful, and tonight: we are los angeles.
Aside from not having S.A.Y. Yes!, today was still a fairly typical. I went to Venice beach and lazily draped myself amongst the sand until i had read the entirety of Night, a story of a jewish boy who survived auswitchz. the overcrowded bus ride back taking almost an hour and a half to get home because of all of the people, 3 fights breaking out in just that time. lunch-dinner back at the house, and andy and daniel are there sort of sleepily gazing at things. andy goes to the porch to eat his mango, and daniel interjects the silence every few minutes to call me over and ask me questions that i’m unsure of the significance behind. “sara, what’s the name of the show that had a roadrunner and a coyote?” “sara, does the house ever shake?” i retreat to my room to clean up a little since nehemiah prospecters are going to be touring the house tomorrow, and am greeted by my roomate kat and her chello. Still hungry i walk a few blocks over to lucy’s, where joe attacks and walks my pupusa and me home, not saying much but listening to my awkward rambling about maybe he would die from eating his waterbottle, and maybe he shouldnt do that, because, it sounds silly, but really i just read about someone dying, and hey, actually, if you had a choice of how you would die, how would it be? i would want to die in my sleep, or maybe be trampled by elephants or something. painlessly. underwater. you know, so that it’s an interesting death. not really i guess, you’re still chewing on your water bottle, hey how was class today, anyway?
daniel and andy are still at the house, now joined by patti, carissa, and jessica, who generously brought us all venti mocha’s. patti talks to luke on the phone and decides that they will love eachother forever, and afterwards luke texts me things like ‘you owe me $1000 dollars!’ i suppose in exchange for the unfortunately long stranger conversation i forced upon him. most of us then go to youth group, where the davids teach me the gang signs and everyone freaks out by my new found joy in demonstrating them in the streets (“SARA DO YOU WANT TO GET SHOT?!?!?), then the general program – i am still trying to master our streets rivals, the 18th street gang sign, when daniel asks me if i want to lead one of the discussion groups, and i can’t untangle my fingers before everyone’s had a chance to notice that i, as one of the leaders, am practicing gang signs rather than paying attention ahah. karissa and i end up co-leading one of the groups, and they are crazy and interesting and i am fascinated that i too was once of this age and this mindset. particularly by the 19 year olds, who’s ranks i have only just come from, yet none the less am no longer in! fears, convictions, revalations and reservations are all discussed an i can’t help but feel that these are the questions and conversations which make up who we are. after all the boys beat eachother up, it’s 10 and we wander in to the pre-storm (finally! signs of rain!) night, where adrian is doing the splits and hiding behind me as jessica attempts to retrieve the water-ball from his clutches, and i mistake a homeless man for just a blanket which i almost wrap around myself before noticing it’s quite occupied. the group makes its way towards a taco stand about 12 blocks away, everyone driving except adrian, joe, melanie, malana, daniel and myself. joe skateboards along, dedicating himself to protecting me from black widows while pseudo-nobly holding his umbrella over our rainless heads. the attempt is illy-appreciated, as i jack the umbrella and adrian and i run screaming, umbrella held high, through the sprinklers in a nearby yard. i order uno carne avadas taco from the stand which is run out of someones van, and sit down on the crates and boxes disguised as chairs, at the table which is just an overturned trashcan. anywhere else and i would have giggled in appreciation of its super ghetto-ness, but this is just life here, and it’s ghettocity offers few surprises. after capturing carissa’s keys, we turn the parking lot in to a dance party, until finally we head back to the house. everyone but john, carissa, daniel, jessica, and patti go home, the latter three going inside for a heart to heart on patti’s sporodic love life, while carissa, john and i stay on the porch talking about anything from marriage and convictions to secret chambers and descending from lizards until about 3am, a bi-nightly event.
daniel and andy are still at the house, now joined by patti, carissa, and jessica, who generously brought us all venti mocha’s. patti talks to luke on the phone and decides that they will love eachother forever, and afterwards luke texts me things like ‘you owe me $1000 dollars!’ i suppose in exchange for the unfortunately long stranger conversation i forced upon him. most of us then go to youth group, where the davids teach me the gang signs and everyone freaks out by my new found joy in demonstrating them in the streets (“SARA DO YOU WANT TO GET SHOT?!?!?), then the general program – i am still trying to master our streets rivals, the 18th street gang sign, when daniel asks me if i want to lead one of the discussion groups, and i can’t untangle my fingers before everyone’s had a chance to notice that i, as one of the leaders, am practicing gang signs rather than paying attention ahah. karissa and i end up co-leading one of the groups, and they are crazy and interesting and i am fascinated that i too was once of this age and this mindset. particularly by the 19 year olds, who’s ranks i have only just come from, yet none the less am no longer in! fears, convictions, revalations and reservations are all discussed an i can’t help but feel that these are the questions and conversations which make up who we are. after all the boys beat eachother up, it’s 10 and we wander in to the pre-storm (finally! signs of rain!) night, where adrian is doing the splits and hiding behind me as jessica attempts to retrieve the water-ball from his clutches, and i mistake a homeless man for just a blanket which i almost wrap around myself before noticing it’s quite occupied. the group makes its way towards a taco stand about 12 blocks away, everyone driving except adrian, joe, melanie, malana, daniel and myself. joe skateboards along, dedicating himself to protecting me from black widows while pseudo-nobly holding his umbrella over our rainless heads. the attempt is illy-appreciated, as i jack the umbrella and adrian and i run screaming, umbrella held high, through the sprinklers in a nearby yard. i order uno carne avadas taco from the stand which is run out of someones van, and sit down on the crates and boxes disguised as chairs, at the table which is just an overturned trashcan. anywhere else and i would have giggled in appreciation of its super ghetto-ness, but this is just life here, and it’s ghettocity offers few surprises. after capturing carissa’s keys, we turn the parking lot in to a dance party, until finally we head back to the house. everyone but john, carissa, daniel, jessica, and patti go home, the latter three going inside for a heart to heart on patti’s sporodic love life, while carissa, john and i stay on the porch talking about anything from marriage and convictions to secret chambers and descending from lizards until about 3am, a bi-nightly event.
right before coming inside, patty, although not the first to ask, poses the question, “do you want to stay here?”
