Things Seen on the LA River Bike Path

Yesterday, I embarked on a bike ride that took me from the North Hollywood red line to Pershing Square in Downtown LA (~20 miles) via bike paths and streets. I have never ridden the paths before and there were many things I encountered and learned about LA during my ride.

- The LA river, along the part I rode, looked like it was ravaged by a hurricane, furnished by dead trees, trash, and structural debris.
- Still, there exists fauna along the river, such as ducks and several kinds of birds.
- There is an equestrian crossing (like pedestrian crossing) some point on the path.
- I was going faster than the traffic going northbound on the 5 because of an overturned vehicle near the 134 that backed up traffic until the 110 freeway.
- Nice city-sanctioned parks connect to openings on the path in ghetto neighborhoods. A cholo was drinking a King Cobra at 3pm on a park bench right next to kids playing in the playground.
- A punk band likes to practice in their back yard, which is steps from the river, like many houses are.
- The path ends in LA proper near Elysian Park, where you have to find a way along the streets to get to downtown.
- Graffiti along the river has been wiped out for the most part.
- Vehicle exhaust isn't a problem. The air quality is much better than riding in the streets.

Norman Rockwell and the Moving Slideshow

Freedom from Want. That's the name of this painting and also one of the Four Freedoms spoken by Franklin D. Roosevelt during a state of the union address. Norman Rockwell's famous work was featured in a 1943 issue of The Saturday Evening Post accompanying an essay about Roosevelt's Four Freedoms. Thanksgiving just passed and the holiday always digs into my memory bank and spits out this image.

I remember sitting in a large lecture hall, which was actually an auditorium with a large stage and projection screen for university-related events. My art history class was held in this room.

It was early in my college years. I was an interior architectural design student, taking elective classes and minoring in English literature. That meant I'd pull at least two all-nighters each week, alternating between trying to complete an essay, read several plays or novels, and work on time-consuming drafting, model-work, or 2D design projects.

I sat in that auditorium, listening to the final review and looking at slides, sleep-deprived after a couple of days of staying up and finishing projects/essays for finals week. The Norman Rockwell slide appeared on the screen. The class wrote down who did the painting, what year it made and its cultural significance. I stared at the painting, unable to absorb any of the information being spoon-fed to me, and instead started hallucinating from sleep deprivation, like Salvador Dali liked to do. The grandmother and grandfather had an evil glow around them, sneering at the turkey and their grandchildren. The grandchildren and family members vibrated, as if they were in a hurry to receive their portion. This was the decline of America, people were on the advent of consumerism and greediness. I held onto my chair's arms and waited for the slide to change.

Public Transit

More often now, I've been riding on the Metro Red Line to get to work and back. The convenience of having it very close to where I live, for the past two places I've lived, allows me to leave my car behind and forget the stresses of traffic and finding parking in downtown. There's always been strange characters on the train, but my most recent encounter inspired this post.

On the Red Line, there's a short Asian lady wearing glasses, who's older with black hair, that goes around asking for donations for the homeless. I believe in charity, and hate to poke fun at this, but the way she asks is so distinctively amusing in her heavy Asian accent. And she doesn't miss a person.

"Wud yu liiike to donate to homeless peepo, sar? Wud yu? Wud yu?"

She gets in your face. She stares at you harshly and points at your face when she asks, "Would you?" She touched my bike.

I guess her tactics work though. I saw her get off the train and count the cash people gave her. I walked on with my ravished bike in hand.

The People I Meet #5: Film Alcoholic

Yesterday, a little before 11am, I hear playful, but violent knocking on the door. Stef had just left for work, so I was all alone. The knocking continued, and by habit, I got up and peeked through the peephole. It was a face I recognized so I opened the door. A waft of heavy alcohol came through the opening.

"Hey! You're not Stefan..." he says, confused as all hell.
"No, he's at work right now," I said, terrified to say any more.
"Oh! Uh, there's something I wanted him to help me with, you see, I'm working on a movie..."

Of course. Only in LA would someone completely drunk before 11am, come to my door and talk about working in movies. After more awkward conversation, I told him I would tell Stef about his visit and to call him. He agreed, turned toward the stairs, and left.

I hope he is okay out there in the world.

Augmented Reality is the Next Big Thing?

Augmented reality has been creeping up from under the radar for a while now. There is even a conference dedicated to it. In the game Heavy Rain, agent Jayden uses AR through special glasses to examine crime scenes and pull up his case files. In Vanquish, whose demo is releasing today(!), the robot suit is equipped with an AR mode that slows down time in-order to give the player an advantage in rough situations. How would it affect our reality though?

The video above seamlessly merges AR into the everyday happenings. It's a mindfuck to even think of the possibilities of AR. (By the way, the video was made for 3D so it looks weird to normal eyes.)

And we thought people talking with their Bluetooth earpieces was weird...

Emak Bakia

Yesterday was Man Ray's birthday. Happy belated birthday to one of my biggest inspirations.

Tunnel Vision on Sunset

I almost collapsed at Sunset Junction. I felt like that balloon in the picture above, detached from myself, floating to an unknown destination. It happened during Lee Scratch Perry, the only reason why I was at the festival, but its origins are unexplainable. Doing my research, I believe what I experienced was a panic attack.

I had all the symptoms:
- tunnel vision
- time moving slowly
- trembling
- sweating
- dizziness
- lightheadedness
- derealization
- nausea
- muscle weakness
- paresthesias
- the need to escape

Cold water is my safety blanket. It's all that's needed to make me come back to reality.

When we got home from Sunset Junction, we watched Downtown 81. The film inspired us to listen to the Suicide so we played the music, turned off all the lights, and projected stars onto our walls.

As we laid in bed, I kept staring at the stars, thinking they were a metaphor for people: they moved at different speeds, but some were content with where they were. All of a sudden, synaesthesia set in and I kept seeing spots of purple fade in and out of the ceiling, but it only happened in a certain area of the ceiling. I couldn't control it. It just happened. Even when I closed my eyes, I saw the purple dots. It was my second time experiencing synaesthesia. The first was seeing streaks of orange, brown, and blue when I heard different sizes of vehicles passing by outside of the window.

But, I digress. Many times, I feel like that balloon in the picture, floating wherever the wind wants to take me. It controls my flow of life.