archived moments: the rain in LA pt. I

(jan. 4, 2006: pouring in echo park.)

I’m looking outside my balcony window as the wind moves at a harmonious pace. The palm trees sway to a similar rhythm as the Atlantic Ocean beats in the late spring, May to be exact. The water from the rain earlier this morning is slowly evaporating. On NPR’s This American Life Susan Surranden narrates a biography on the composer Leonard Burnstein. Listening to Burnstein’s compositions, my instinct reaction was how his melodies reflect this universal feeling of happiness meeting sorrow, pain meeting pleasure.

A letter written by Jaqueline Kennedy addressed to Lenny Burnstein has just been recited. The letter was written early, the morning after Bobby Kennedy’s funeral. Within such a short letter, Jackie Kennedy summed up her own personal state of mind. Her personal thoughts and state of mourning obviously paralleled the disarray and chaos happening in the world during the month of Martin Luther King Jr & Bobby Kennedy’s death.

Just as the crescendo of the background music (of the radio show) hits, I notice a train from afar moving slowly. I often look at these train tracks outside of our balcony window but have never noticed a train actually on the tracks. I always assumed that these tracks were unused. Watching the train move slowly warms me up and reassures me that my assumption of the dead tracks was just that, an assumption.

They are alive.

They are speaking their own language. Just as Bernstein spoke his own, but was able to interpret it so eloquently that it moved Jaqueline Kennedy to write him a letter at 4 in the morning.

The weather outside is similar to home and it has awaken me. In the living room John Coltrane is breaking down our stereo and I realize, once again, that (as cliché as this all sounds) how inspiration is everywhere. It’s amazing. I’m in a new phase now. One of acceptance and appreciation of being able to truly enjoy the moment...

(m. villanueva: journal archive 1/4/2006.)