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Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (Weatherhill, 1970), pg 116

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What I remember most about the bear is that he was extremely drunk and his bear suit was soggy with sweat. This photo is my friend Tanja with the bear.

Click on the image to see it get larger, just like magic.

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Here’s what it looked like at my place up on top of the hills in Echo Park last year in the rain:

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Two cholitas on Venice Beach, Labor Day 2009.

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Venice Beach, August 30th, 6:30 pm. I’ve never before ridden the bike path through Venice - too much work dodging tourists and roller skaters - but there was no riding in town due to the toxic air from the fires.

Never having ridden the path I’d no idea how different Venice looked from the perspective of 10 feet further south than the boardwalk. It’s a completely different viewpoint, an insider’s viewpoint maybe, and I’m always thrilled when something as simple as a shift in position opens up what is to me a complete change in perspective, especially of something I’ve seen so very many times over so very many years from the earlier seemingly fixed viewpoint.

If you click on it you can see it bigger. It’s like magic.

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In the center of the parking lot is a big truck covered in pictures of delectable juicy tender meat. They are giving away samples of this meat and blaring NASCAR style country music, the kind that white folks who support the war in Iraq and enjoy their meat like to listen to…although there aren’t too many of those kinds of white folks in this neighborhood.

The new un-ghetto Vons is packed, which it never used to be. My checkout line isn’t moving. There’s a matronly Hispanic tranny all dressed up like she’s going to church, looking like someone’s manly grandma, and in her huge fists she has a bunch of coupons that apparently do not apply to the goods she’s purchasing. Of greatest urgency is this one coupon she is sure is going to give her a free 16 ounce bottle of coke. She doesn’t care what the checker says. She has extraordinary sculpted eyebrows that are designed to make clear her disapproval of whatever is in front of her, and she is determined to turn this into a war of wills.

The cute little cholita running the next checkout lane has been forced to tone down her makeup and redo her hair since as of last weekend this is officially a non ghetto Vons. She is trying hard not to laugh at the situation. The heavily pierced Hispanic girl just behind the grandma tranny is not amused. Her boyfriend is. Which way they end up leaning as a couple likely all depends on whether or not they get to buy their stuff anytime soon. Behind them is a hipster with a jar of maraschino cherries. Behind him is me.

The checkout guy holds his ground against the grandma tranny. She pays with small change and then heads off to argue her case to a manager.

Country music is still blaring from the meat wagon.

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We were living in London at the time.

She bought the blue dress at Ardvark on Melrose when we stopped off in LA for a few days before heading to Mexico.

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I was dating a girl who liked to bite.

It didn’t last long.

She was into pain.

I wasn’t.

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