Social Isolation and New Technology

I took the bus to beautiful Downtown Burbank.  Had a really good meeting with Todd Hampson and Sean Copley of www.timbuktoons.com (who will hopefully be hiring me to score their cartoons in the near future – fingers crossed).  After a nice meal at Granville where I had the Thai salad with peanuts and mango and just the right amount of spiciness and some bread on the side with a refreshing glass of Arnold Palmer, I went back to the bus stop.  (I recommend the Thai salad).

Found a seat at the stop, put my headphones on to practice my intervals with Music Theory Pro app (available from Apple's app store and highly recommended for music students and pro musicians alike), when an older gentleman approached me...

I took my earphones off, looked at him expectantly, his mouth opened slowly in that faltering kind of way as if he got nervous or plain forgot what he was going to say....

I broke the silence with, "How are you?" hopefully shaking up his hesitation.

"Good," he seemed to sigh with a little smile. Then he asked slowly, "Do you happen to know the definition of the word minutia?"

Turns out we were catching the same bus and we talked all the way to my stop.  He told me he asked me about minutia because I looked intelligent.  I asked if my glasses made me look intelligent, and he insisted it's something else that he can just tell about a person.

When I asked why he was curious about the word minutia in particular, he said that his ex-wife was a very articulate woman and would use words like that.  "But, oh, did she have a temper.  She took prescription drugs, and the drugs had steroids.  And, of course, steroids can give a person a mighty temper."  They eventually divorced, and she is now passed away.  Henry works as a janitor somewhere in Burbank.

In case you were curious.

It was such a random question for him to ask me.  I suspect that he just wanted to talk to somebody, maybe in particular to talk to someone about his ex-wife.  However, he also said that as a janitor, he works alone.  "And what's the hardest part about working?" he asked me as if the answer were obvious. "Other people!" he answered.  Did he really mean that?  Does he really want to avoid other people when he seems to miss his ex-wife enough to talk to a stranger about her?  When he seems ready to start a conversation with a total stranger on the pretext of being curious about the definition of a word he happened to be thinking of?  I wonder if he came up with that question only after his faltered attempt at starting a conversation which I saved by asking, "How are you?"

Maybe like all of us, he's had some bad experiences with people and is grateful to have a job where he works alone, but, at other times, he feels the need for connection.  And, what do we have that can be a good starting point for a conversation?  What's a good piece of common ground to randomly ask a question about?  Language is one thing, I suppose.  Then again, I wouldn't ask anybody a question like that because I have a smartphone.  And if you have a smartphone with internet for all your questions, why talk to anyone?  Right?

Averting Public Altercations: More guns or Less guns?

Did he have a gun?  Or any other weapon?  Did anyone else have a gun?  Is it legal to carry a gun on the metro, or is it more like airplane travel just without metal detectors?

The man causing the problems on the underground train was drunk and getting very bold with an unfortunate young lady traveling by herself.  He began by displaying his strength doing pull-ups on the overhead handrail directly in front of her.  He was already too close for comfort.  My seat was right next to and perpendicular to the girls'.  In his slurred Spanglish he complimented her looks, but only succeeded in creeping her out further and drawing threatening words and looks from a few intimidating young men in our car.  I had remained silent, but I was ready to join the more verbose onlookers if need be.  Serious warnings, violent threats, and some insults continued coming at the guy.

In light of all the gun talk recently, I wondered,"What if this guy gets angry and it ends up that he has a weapon, a knife or a gun?"  I know for sure I want a law against him in particular from having a right to bear arms.  But, if he's a bad guy, he might have a gun illegally anyway.  If so, then I might hope that someone else has one.  I might later hope that I had had one.  I'd hate to see things escalate with more than one gun, but I'd also hate to see one, angry, drunk guy take control and cause havoc with the only gun.

Turns out he was unarmed.  The only real action took place when the girl hit him in the face and a couple of us grabbed the drunkard forcing him to sit until his stop.  No guns, no one hurt, conflict averted, and after the drunk left, all of us in the car felt a sense of camaraderie for having been ready to protect a young lady.

Walt Disney Hall via the Red Line

Boarding the red line.

This is brother Ben

Much thanks to Lee and Joan Mimms for the tickets.

Walt Disney Hall.  What an amazing place!  So big, yet somehow so intimate.

My favorite piece was the excerpts from Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe.  So epic!

Mania at Book Soup

I use an app called Local Books.  It's handy for those moments when you need to see a list of local book stores' upcoming events.  Found one the other day for a book signing/reading from a guy who wrote a new biographical book about the Beat poets (mostly Alan Ginsberg and his poem "Howl").

I did my absolute best to ride the bus, but the freakin thing never came!  Grrrrr!  Imagine having to actually rely on buses to get you to important appointments.  So, I drove.

Book Soup is on Sunset Blvd. in one of the most overpriced-and-passed-its-prime areas of Hollywood– the Sunset Strip.  After feeding the meter all the coins I had left in my car, I realized I had the address wrong and accidentally parked 5 blocks away.  Can't move the car at that point, so I walked...

David Skover, author

Got there a couple minutes after it was supposed to start.  I walked in somewhat sheepishly ready to quietly find a comfortable place to stand behind all the people who had taken the seats, but when I walked in, I thought maybe it was cancelled.  Seemed like a normal quiet Saturday.  However, I looked down the aisle to my left and saw two columns of seats setup with just enough space to walk by them on the right.  The sixteen or so chairs faced a wooden podium where the author himself stood.  He was congenially talking with his only audience member, an old lady with her hair done, make up on, wearing a purple work out suit and sitting in the second row.  I joined them.

The author gave his shpeal to the two of us and the store owner.  I loved it.  The book sounded really fascinating.  All about the obscenity trial Ginsberg went through when "Howl" was first published.  He also read a couple of stories from Ginsberg's youth that are referenced in "Howl."  Rough childhood, that guy had.

I managed to think of some questions during Q and A time.  It was a pretty cool experience, connecting with the author like that, and he seemed not at all resentful that he was only presenting to me, the old lady, and one random shopper who had decided join us.

My phone alarm went off which meant that my meter was about to run out, so I went to the cashier to buy the book.  I asked how much.  He picked up one of the books to see. "Twenty-six dollars," he said.  I weighed my options, tried to predict my feelings, imagined what others would think or do, thought of other ways to get the book less expensively, wondered if I'd regret not getting his signature...  I passed on it.  "Sorry, can't do it," I said after a ridiculous display of indecisive pacing in front of the counter.  I started the trek back to my car and felt great about not spending $26.  I might get the Kindle version though...

The book is called Mania, and I still want it.  http://www.top-five-books.com/Mania.html

Out of Place

This is why I take public transit:

Long journey from San Clemente to Burbank (I know, not the most practical use of the metro system). Had to take 4 busses. While waiting for the 92 in downtown LA, the last leg of my trip, saw a row of tents lining the sidewalk. This is at 6th and Los Angeles. Found the stop for the 92 and waited. A couple of young white guys were strolling towards me. Using every bit of my mental faculty to convince myself that there is no reason whatsoever that I should feel out of place, I looked up just as they were passing in front of me side by side. The one closest to me, with a taller more confident stature made casual by a baseball cap, snapped his head toward me, shouted "BAM!", snapped his head forward again, and kept on walkin'. I must have looked out of place :)

Jaxx in Glendale

Stop in front of Jax Bar and Grill in Glendale. Comes aboard a well-dressed black man with a new fedora hat and old-fashioned wing tip shoes.

"You look like you just came from Jaxx," I said to him.

"I did in fact," he said with a smile.

"Ya? How was the music tonight?"

"The music was good, the singer sucked."

"Really? Haha!"

"Ya, man, she was terrible, but her band was good."

The Basque People on the Bus

Got on the bus, en route to Kulak's Woodshed in North Hollywood for the best open mic in L.A., and sat in the front of the bus. Noticed a pleasant looking middle aged guy with grey hair and beard, stylish, brown, plastic rimmed glasses, and a bicycle helmet. A couple stops down, once I had settled in my seat with book in hand, a pretty woman in a sun hat and flower print dress got on the bus with a couple shopping bags.

She fiddled around for change while talking to the lady bus driver until she realized she only had cash and asked the front of the bus for anyone with change for a dollar. The bicycle man was quick to the punch. Bright, grateful eyes met him as he eagerly retrieved the coinage from his pockets. He sat back down, she paid the fare, and then she stood at the front facing forward.

Was that it?, I thought to myself. So, I tried to be a wing man to a guy I had never met. I asked a perfectly stupid question of the guy, but one needn't worry about how stupid a question is when you're a guy making friendly conversation with another guy. "Is your bike on the front of the bus?" I asked gesturing toward his helm

et.

"Uh, ya it is," he answered back and went on to tell me that his car was in the shop and then to say proudly that he is in shape from swimming but wants to get in shape with biking as well. He likes to bike up the hill to Mulholland Drive for exercise...

I was hoping she might somehow join the conversation or something like that. But alas, no such thing happened...

This man and I kept talking however, and got onto the subject of music. I told him I was going to Kulak's Woodshed. He asked me,

"You know what a kulak is right?"

"Well, I think it the owner's last name."

"That may be, but a kulak was what they called the Russian farmers who resisted Stalin

when he was forcing them to give their land to the State. Many of them were starved or executed for refusing." And on he went about Kulaks and how that name is related to Karl. And, guess what this guy's name is...

So Karl and I continued to talk. Turns out he's also a descendent of the Basque, which is an ancient people from the border region of modern day Spain and France.

So, there you go! Another interesting day on the L.A. metro system.