Now it makes sense...

So, I've been commenting lately on how remarkably conservative I've found SOCAL to be. The war and immigration being the biggest issues I hear about daily. But on one other topic, abortion, I'm perpetually amazed at how MATTER OF FACTly conservative California appears to be. That is to say, the consensus is for Pro-Life. I have no problem with one being pro-life. Personally, my stance would be Pro-Life if at all possible, but hell if I or the courts have the right to say so definitively.

I learned a long time ago, coming from a family of women, that my voice is pretty irrelevant on such matters. I remember one time, my sisters, mother, aunts, talking about breast feeding pros and cons. I cavalierly offered up this gem: "When I get married, I don't think I'll insist that my wife breast feed." They uniformally stopped me in my tracks and said (with their eyes), "Your DAMN right you won't insist on much of anything!" Once I'd scraped myself off the floor, I took to heart the fact that, to paraphrase a New York expression, my opinion on women's rights and $1.50 will get you on the subway.

Anyway, as a Libra, I've always been able to see both sides of things. On this topic especially, how could you not? I certainly understand why someone could see it as "killing," to a degree (albeit, it seems ludicrous to me in the first two tri-mesters), but I also certainly can see how sometimes in life, it's probably best that it's done, either because of health risks, or economic realities. So given that, I've been stunned at how staunch the pro-lifers are out here. And the other day, it finally hit me. It's a melding of a lot of the things I've been talking about out here.

Since I've been here, I haven't seen anything REMOTELY close to say, North Newark, or Camden, though I'm sure some version exists somewhere. Here, I've seen skateboard parks, little league fields, and clean schools. I see two-parent households, WITH nannies to boot. I see crossing guards. I see afterschool activities. I DON'T see drug pushers. I don't see unemployment. I don't see welfare moms. OF COURSE everyone wants these kids to live. Why wouldn't they? Life is eden out here for a child. Conversely, elsewhere in the world, where HARSH realities exist, it's not so easy sometimes. There are economic realities that I think Californians can fail to comprehend because they're generally conceptual to them, more than actual. I guarantee you, the same Californians on the soapbox about pro-life would invoke the same venom they have towards the immigrants, were abortion to be outlawed, and there was an influx of welfare mothers and their kids. "Why are my tax dollars going towards these un-wed mothers and their babies?!?! Haven't they heard of contraception?!?" You get the idea. It's that underlying hypocrisy that chafes me above all else about the pro-lifers. Their agenda should be amended to, "Pro-life so long as I'M not bothered."

No Witty Pun For This One..

One of the bigger ironies I've noticed out here, is that for all of the laid back, mellow folks who don't seem to work but so much, there is a remarkably industrious homeless population. For real. There's no comedic sarcasm behing that statement whatsoever.

In my neighborhood, there is a curiously high number, relative to the relative comfortability of my 'hood. It's not Bel Air, but it's not the wrong side of the tracks either. One certainly would not expect to see a bona fide "population" of homeless. But there they are. And they have clearly carved out a niche of sorts, as it is the same folk daily that you observe.

Unlike New York's homeless, this group does not strike you as potentially dangerous. There are no train tracks to get pushed in front of here, but if there were, I don't think they'd do it. No, the homeless here actually have agendas. There's a tiny, old Mexican woman and her dog. I see her SEVERAL times a day, like clockwork rummaging through the garbage cans of the area. In between her, are several others who make the daily rounds at the same cans. God help them if they come across our kitty/pig litter, but they seem to find recyclables and enough food to get by. Hell, I even saw her help herself to a few flowers in our yard the other day, for wherever she lays down in the evening, she wants it to stay fresh.

Then, on my commute, there's a significant intersection I go through twice a day, maybe 2 minutes off the 405. High volume, long lights, so a couple of savvy homeless have co-opted the intersection as their own. Smart business acumen. High volume = High profits. I see them every day, same signs asking for money in tow, during the evening rush hour. But what freaked me out was, the other day I had to pass by around 1, running an errand, and there they were. My point being, all these folks might be homeless, but they keep regular hours, respecting it like a job almost. The New York homeless stayed in a perpetual stupor, looking for change to stay high or whatever. They'd unabashedly get in your face, and offend or scare you without regard. But out here, whatever their plight, they seem to generally take it as THEIR plight, for better or worse. They do what they can to survive, but basically don't throw it in your face.

Hopefully, this isn't sounding offensive. It's just a different vibe to a particular sub-culture that DOES exist, here, New York, and everywhere.

Come on Down

Bubba and I live a stone's throw from Television City. Probably a 10-minute walk from CBS studios, where all kinds of clap-trap is produced. I don't even know what all goes on there - with one exception: The Price is Right.

Every day on my commute, I go down Fairfax and pass by the studio. And good ol' American icon Bob Barker is about to hang 'em up, come June I believe, so for the last few months, Fairfax Ave. and Beverly Blvd. has been packed with national yokels, looking to "come on down" with Bob. So, what you get is, a sidewalk full of people SLEEPING OVERNIGHT, just for Price is Right tickets. Like it's a line for U2 tickets or something. Hilarious. Sleeping bags, tents, folding chairs, all that good stuff.

I have to say though, unlike a rock and roll show, this crowd seems to be a jovial, very friendly bunch from what I've observed. No cops or velvet ropes needed. Everyone's on their honor. And they all seem to be laughing and carrying on, real pleasant like. It's also filled with (but hardly exclusively) the geriatric set. You can just tell that everyone's from Anytown, U.S.A., and that this will EASILY be the highlight of the R.V. trip to LaLa land. For me, the best part is everyone in their group themed t-shirts, as they make some kind of play to be recognized by the producers. You know, like gaudy colored, raised t-shirts saying something like, "Falls Church Hearts Bob."

When I come home on the days where they've had shows, I see the folks on the sidewalk, sporting the authentic name tags I grew seeing. The Price is Right was particularly an elementary school sick day staple for me. Feign a stomach ache, eat a lil' breakfast, watch Bob and the gals, and settle in for my stories in the afternoon until cartoon time.

I've yet to see anyone visibly euphoric on the streets, like they'd just won BOTH showcase showdowns, but I'm sure they're all satisfied regardless. I wonder to myself, who got to play 'Plinko?' Did they have to play the race game? Or my personal favorite, the little mountain climber dude. Did he appear today, and if so, did he fall over the cliff?

I've heard CBS has the audacity to try and replace Bob when he's gone. What, 35 years isn't enough of a milking that you have to try to squeeze yet another drop out of it? Bob was and is a rock steady solid, national game show icon. A pro's pro, who will be missed.

Woke Up This Mor-nin'...

Back east, for maybe the last 10 years I lived there, I used to schlep (you don't get good Yiddish) out here) out to Joisy every Friday, to continue my guitar studies under the tutelage of my mentor, Rich Fusco. Beyond the hour or so lessons, it became an entire ritual for me. You could literally set your watch by the whole thing. Yellow line subway from Mid-town to Port Authority. Buy a discounted Daily News and Post OUTSIDE P.A., go in and buy a sleeve of fresh popcorn. From there I'd catch the 5:50 Community Coach out of gate 306. (I'd always try to look gnarly and angry so as to improve my chances of sitting alone). Next, it was a ride eerily similar to Tony Sopranos during the opening credits of the Sopranos, 'cept I was seeking higher musical knowledge, he was seeking power and good sausages. Out of the Lincoln Tunnel, with the panorama of all of Manhattan (first with the WTC, then without), through the rancid, chemical belly of North Jersey. From there, the Turnpike to 280, past Kearny, and sometimes, past the Satriales neighborhood if the traffic re-routed us. Then, just like Tony, I'd see the gradual presence of grass and greenery increase. The houses would get a little nicer. Next thing you know, I'm in Livingston, about one turn over from Caldwell, Tony's area. Rich and I would get our guitar on, and leave at 8:46 for South Orange, my original stomping grounds. I'd catch the 9:14 Midtown Direct. NJ Transit was remarkably good on time, so I'd get into Penn Station at 9:46. Walk a few blocks to the Yellow line, and I'd be walking through the door between 10:12 and 10:14 every week. I did this on average I'd say, 35 times a year for 10 years or so. Rinse and repeat.

So why, pray tell, am I rehashing my excercise in tedium for you all, ESPECIALLY when it's not even a CURRENT exercise in tedium? Well, first of all, obviously I am attempting to fortify my stronghold on the title of "World's Squarest Bad Ass Guitarist." But secondly, to ruminate on one of the more subtle aspects of picking up one's life and starting anew. See, I took great comfort in such a refined level of predictability. I loved that I could know that, every Friday at 7:05, I could be found in the same 7-11 in Livingston, buying the same cup of coffee. Or that I'd finish my Su Doku after the Lincoln Tunnel, but before we officially got on the Turnpike. It took YEARS to master that groove, and now I'm back at square one.

This isn't a knock against L.A. Just a reality of moving. I had certain aspects of my life down to a science, beyond just my Friday night junkets. Pick up my newspaper from the same stand every day. Have the short order cooks start fixing my order on sight. Sunday bagel from Ess-a-Bagel. Etc. It just feels wierd now, that's all. Naked, without an established order to my daily life. Some of you reading this are probably like, "Thank GOD he's out of that rut! Listen to that monotony!" Listen, life keeps things interesting whether I'm structured or not. In fact, it's BECAUSE life is never boring, that I cherish those few arenas where I CAN keep it simple.

So now, my life grooves aren't smooth yet. My record is warbly like an LP left out in the sun. You can still make out the song, but it's a little skewed.