I keep repeating these lines from a Frank O’Hara poem, “…I am always tying up / and then deciding to depart.” It has become my mantra. In each city I feel like there is not enough time, like I want to remain, like I need to continue exploring. Nowhere feels “old.” On days when I must leave a place which has impacted me, I feel despondent. In the most explicit of terms, I am never prepared to move.
My day began early with a drive out to Echo Park. I wanted to see the lotus growing in the lake. I sat for an hour watching ducks (2), the water, and passersby. With water spouting forth like a geyser juxtaposed to an overcast skyline, I drifted in an out of a trance. There was an intriguing beautiful / ugly paradigm hard at work in Echo Park.
From here, I walked through Silverlake. There are lots of cool little shops and stores to duck in and lose track of time. No trip to the area would be complete without a stop at 4334 Sunset, where sits Solutions. You may recognize the exterior of the sound repair store from the cover of Elliott Smith’s album, Figure 8. Since his death, it’s become something of a memorial, where fans come to leave small notes and tokens of their appreciation.
The next leg of my trip was a drive down Sunset until it hit the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway). Along the route, I stopped on Melrose because it was the only main drag I hadn’t yet experienced. The area I went was stereotypically hoity-toity and after a short while I’d had enough. On to Santa Monica, the beach and the pier.
The drive took a while, but when I caught my first glimpse of the Pacific all hostility dissipated. I parked and walked out onto the beach, rolled up my jeans and waded out a few feet into the water. It’s like, how much more West could I be? And the answer is: none. None more West.
I watched families and children at play, and made my way down PCH to the pier. I walked around, looked for a key chain that had EVAN written on it (it’s harder to find than you’d think. EVARISTO but not EVAN? Come on!) and took some hilarious photos in a photobooth (Frame one: Evan not ready, still trying to figure out how the stool works. Frame two: Evan with an inquisitive look, like “What was that?”. Frame three: Evan looking mad that he’s wasted two pictures already. Frame four: Evan, totally defeated, looking at the ceiling as if to say, “is it over?”). Another $3 down the drain. I’ll start the bidding for this film strip at $3.
By now it was close to 5pm, so I started to head back toward West Hollywood. I stopped briefly at Corey’s place and Molly called soon after to give me directions to her place in Studio City. I left at 6:30 and was there in a half-hour. The ride was cool, up through Laurel Canyon and the hills, eventually falling out into “the valley” and Ventura Blvd. Molly lives in a pink apartment building and I received a warm welcome from her as well as her kitten Narnia. We sat down for a minute and then decided to leave. Molly popped my In-N-Out cherry. It hurt, in a good way. We sat there and I spun yarns about the trip. When we were finished (it wasn’t life changing, but it was great), we went back to her place for a few hours. We talked a lot and played with the kitten, who has sharp claws and a predilection for drawing blood. Molly was totally engrossed in an episode of Gilmore Girls and tried explaining the plot, but it was far beyond my understanding. Our night ended when she had to leave for a soiree.
I sped back along Laurel Canyon with the windows down. Through sharp turns and narrow lanes I raced. I turned down Mulholland and drove for some time, randomly choosing side streets in which to disappear. I tried to get lost, I wanted to, but I ended up somewhere I recognized.
So here I am again. Moorings untied, anchor slowly raising, to set sail come sunrise.
