Sunday, December 1, 2019

Status update

August Sander, Three Young Farmers on Their Way to a Dance, August 1914

Abandoned my attempt at buying more satsumas to catch the DASH, my favorite bus service in Los Angeles, which has over 30 meandering routes around the city. Not counting the mostly closed-door commuter service, it goes just a bit past La Cienega to the west, as far east as Cal State LA, through Northridge, around Wilmington and San Pedro. As far as I can tell it is largely ridden by the elderly inhabitants of any given neighborhood and is as close to a Sunday drive as one can get on public transportation. Before there were reliable apps you could text the number on the bus stop sign and get the next few arrival times, a service I used often when I lived in East Hollywood, texting from my couch before departing for the stop at the end of my block. It is a perfect service. I love it dearly.

Anyway, I'd practically run out of Whole Foods to catch the bus, but then that plan, too, was jettisoned in favor of picking up sushi for dinner and, while I waited for my order, a pack of Juul pods from 7-Eleven - je fume, donc je suis (malheureusement!). The sushi, pods, and I stepped out onto the street, which was for some reason swarmed with cops, and restarted the journey home.

I leave for Colorado on Thursday. It’s going to be cold. So far my mental packing list has just three things - “Wool coat. Black Timbs. Socks.” I want a Prada puffer, a Heattech turtleneck, and ear muffs, but my budget - or rather, my sense of reason (malheureusement encore!) - will only allow for two of the three.

Finished the Wayne Koestenbaum book and started two others - Richard Powers’ Three Farmers on Their Way to a Dance and Elizabeth Wilson's Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity. History marks the spot, and I'm caught.

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Maira Gall