you pounce, you wait, you boast, you learn

(la cienega)


(san vicente)


(wilshire & normandie)


(above wilshire/ardmore)


(ave. 58)


(gold line)


(union station)


(jump on...red line)


(MacArthur Park)


(1st - little tokyo)

in the mornings, when taking the train into the mile they call miracle, the nose isn't stuck into a book for too long. the eyes flicker in fascination at the wrinkles on an old woman's cheek, the rip in a young teenager's jeans, the worked-in wingtip shoe of the business man to my right...soon thereafter, the mind wanders imagining the origins of their thoughts, lifestyles, beliefs and daily routines. scoffing at the phrase "LA has no soul" is a ritual & a judgement that out-of-towners who seek fame should leave behind...

this city has an indescribable vibration that even natives can often ignore. there is a spirit of humbleness, of kindness, of genius, of truth that you won't recognize in hollywood, along olympic blvd, pockets near the ocean, downtown or in the valley...it's recognized when you detach yourself to what this city's propaganda believes that you "need"...it's all truly unnecessary...the car, the ego, the expensive eats, the clothes, the style, the constant need for validation, the stuuuuuff...

if you break this city down to its bear bones, sit amongst its' authenticity for an extended period of time, you will appreciate it's unconventional magnetism. once that appreciation hits you full force, you yourself then begin to obtain this subtle confidence, a simple allure, a demeanor that no longer needs all this stuuuuuuuuff. your ordinance of gratitude is thrown for a loop...and what will make you happy is not miraculous, it's not advertised, and is more precious than even your loftiest goals...it's self defined. this city is solemn amusement, continuously perceived and can catch you by surprise at any given moment.

it's a fun process.

we learn.