Showing posts with label California. Show all posts
Showing posts with label California. Show all posts

Thursday, April 18, 2019

California!

there’s gold in them thar hills,
somewhere up near sutter’s mill:
them’s words that sparked the great gold rush,
and set us up us for the great golden push
Gold
California be the place you gotta go
so we loaded up our siri for sausalito
cruisin’ somewhere o’er the rainbow
where gentle dwellers come and go
speaking what makes their property ’ssesments grow
them gatlins said all the gold that’s there
be locked in some bank in beverly here where
somebody else will that precious stuff share
but hey
this is what i say
whatever stuff upon your dreams do thrive
whatever you do to keep that dream alive
whether you track with ferlinghetti
or train your sights on images of getty
keep that california dreamin alive
lest u get waylaid in some hotel california dive
where some say there’s alchemic gold
in that stuff that owsley sold
cuz when you wish upon a star
makes no difference where you are
whether u b goin’ to surf city surf city
or lookin for dem hollywood pretty
maybe try to hawk you little ditty
in tinsel town jez be twitty
cuz it be a factory town you know
they crankin up th’dream factory fo’ show
and when you wish to sight a star
makes no diff'n where you are
Cal the place you oughta go
so we loaded up the boat for sausalito
where weather underground stars did go
then caught light of day in law’n’order show
while light falls apart in a little room
like Alice with some kind of ‘shroom
on stanyan street
if you catch by beat,
where gentle dwellers come n go
speaking softly of how property ’ssesments grow
yeah demmie residents come and go
speak’n of what makes dem property ‘ssessments grow
but this i know
it may be all for show
okie from muskogee said
California or bust or ’til i’m dead
but whether u  b muskogee okie
yes i know i b get’n lit'bit hokey
or if'n  you b some smart silicon geek
u got to admit dat state is pretty sleek
been California dreamin’ all this week!
though you know i aint no freak
oh what fools’gold these mortals seek
u gotta believe it I know
and i be tellin you fo’ sho’
as so i been told
dem streets be wired wit gold
Citygold
though i now be gettn’ somewhat old:
all that glitters is not gold
what stuff our dreams are made of, or so i’m told
may the bird of paradise eclipse  your deepest woes
in the land of gold'n dreams and shows
here in California.
Don't say I didn't warn ya.


Saturday, April 9, 2016

Woke up with the Angels


Our first twelve hours in Los Angeles has already included a trip down memory lane.

It's not that I ever spent much time here; I only breezed through back in the early '70s. But rather, this immediate reminiscence is triggered by a deeply insistent behind-the-scenes presence of this fabled city in my g-generation's memory.

Not personal memory. Collective memory. LA was all over our baby boomer adolescence and young adult misadventures: Hollywood is here, with all its celluloid-manufactured dreams, along with the Dodgers, the surfers, the cop shows on network TV, even the Beverly Hillbillies.

I suppose I'm a 2016 hillbilly, blowing in last nigh from my back-east Blue Ridge mountain home. But I'm here to tell ya this megalopolis has made such an immense impact on my 64-year consciousness, I hardly know how to mention all the influences.

Our son and his bride-to-be fetched us at LAX last night, about eight o'clock. After the tension of negotiating our airport pickup--"negotiating" with all the other hundred passing vehicles and passengers at the curb of the A terminal, and "negotiating" with an irate neon-vested traffic controller about our hazardous rendezvous tactics in the midst of their managed confusion--after that little eye-of-the-needle thing, next thing I know we're out on the freeway at night in a river of whizzing lights and gleaming glass, metal and speed.

On one heightened stretch of this highly energized raceway I caught a glimpse in the distance of this glistening mega-city into which we were fast propelling. Then out of nowhere a phrase from some old song was jangly in my head:

"but I couldn't let go of L A, city of the fallen angels"

Not literally true of course. There are plenty of good people here, millions of them. But that phrase is a cleverly cynical play on the name itself: Los Angeles, Spanish for "The angels."

I knew the phrase was from an old Joni Mitchell song; I could hear the line sung in my head, but didn't remember which song.

This morning when we woke up, this was the AirBnB view from our window:


After a couple of cups of coffee, and a time-warp discovery in our apartment of an ancient artifact:


This must be what an MP33rpm looks like.

With that old turntable spinning snippets of misspent youth around in my brain, I decided to take a chance on writing this blog, as a vehicle for summoning up whatever memories are zinging around in my mind just now, while sipping coffee in eL A in the morning. Look at this old phonograph; grok its significance in the history of communication technology; cherish its unique position in the collective consciousness stream of my g-generation. You can perhaps imagine within its groovy vinyl-etched peaks and canyons, the adventurous wanderings of our g-generation as we sought far and wide for something we know not what nor where we might find it. Through those pathways of memory you may recall earlier mention, back in the first paragraph, of: reminiscence . . . triggered by a deeply insistent behind-the-scenes presence of this fabled city in my g-generation's memory.

Joni Mitchell, back in the day, wrote a beautiful, piano-based song, Court and Spark.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHEDdecvLpU&nohtml5=False

Her crooning imagery, describing in this song some encountered street-singing man, captures well the wandering spirit of those times--the obsession with freedom in all things--love, travels, thoughts, romantic interludes that did or did not happen.

And it was in that song, Court and Spark, that the jangly phrase ". . . couldn't let go of L A, city of the fallen angels" is found, in the very last line.

The flights of flirtatious fancy therein are a prospect that a man or woman could spend a lifetime pursuing.

But I do believe that, while the prospect of such a life of romantic rendezvous seems quite attractive and very compelling, the actual living of it, long term, is probably very problematical, perhaps traumatic, maybe even tragic. Tragic romanticism--I knew it well. For a while. And I associate it with the stuff of our dreams, my g-generation's dreams that floated from Hollywood and eL A and the city by the bay and all that groovy stuff.

I imagine the lovely genius woman who composed that musical phrase about the city of the fallen angels; she must have lived a life in adventurous pursuit of such exciting moments and passionate encounters, one after another for a whole lifetime.

Me, I did not. I settled down, got a hold of the Christian faith, became a one-woman man. After 36 years of shared adventure, including the present one of visiting Micah and Kyong-Jin in this great city of Los Angeles, Pat and I sit here contentedly this morning with our coffee and our leftovers from last night's Korean feast for breakfast. And nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina California in the morning.

What a great ride!



Glass half-Full

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Be aware of Greeks bearing debts


Greece is, you see, the opposite of California, and I'll tell you why.

The first thing is: Greece is very old. California is, on the other hand, very new.

The "West"--that is to say, California and all the rest of us New World types-- actually started in Greece about three thousand years ago. Greece was the "West" because it was westward from what was, in ancient times, the Old Country, the region we now call the Middle East, or Levant, or Holy Land, depending on your point of view.

Long ago, after Alexander and his military legacy turned the Persians back at the battle of Marathon, long about 490 b.c.e., the people of the Greek city-states began joining together to form an historical entity that we now call Ancient Greece.

And since that time, the whole thing of Greek culture moved westward and northward over a couple of millennia of time. The great thrust of Western thought, anchored in a mental discipline called philosophy and a political idea called Democracy, inspired empires and nations from those ancient days until the present day.

We still dream about governing ourselves in this thing call a democracy, but it has never quite manifested in a way authentic to the original concept.

Probably never will, but it's a nice thought.

A couple hundred years after the Greek Golden Age, the Romans came along with their Republic and their empire. Much of their marvelously innovative empire-building was rooted in Greek thought and mathematics (Euclid and Pythagoras). A lot of what the Romans did was direct imitation of Greek stuff. A good example of this is their omnipresent use of Columns for holding buildings up.

You've heard of Doric columns, Ionic columns?

That's Greek stuff. Except that--guess what!--the Doric and Ionic names originated across the Aegean sea from Greece, in a region called Asia (Minor), which is now Turkey. Go figure!

A couple hundred years after the Greek Golden Age, along came the Romans. What they ended up doing was much grander and more elaborate than what the Greeks did. They took Greek columns and turned them into a universal architectural art-form. Those two earlier Column designs--the Doric and the Ionian-- were not fancy enough to suit the Roman sense of grandiosity. So the Romans decorated the capitals (tops) of their columns with new, leafy frou-frou carvings and castings which came to be called Corinthian.

The Corinthian name, however, was not Roman, but Greek. Corinth was an important city in Greece. So once again, go figure.

Figuring is important to the whole advance of Western civilization. Everywhere Greeks and their European progeny went, they were figuring stuff out.

Thus did Western Civilization expand over millenia of time. Along came the Germans, French, Spanish, British, all of them making ever grander plans, striving to construct their own versions of civilization.

When the Greco-Roman enterprise got to the big Sea at the end of Europe--aka the End of the Earth--its expansion was delayed for a few hundred years. But then along came Cristoforo Columbo and Presto!, Western civilization took a grand leap across the Atlantic Ocean.

Now we Americans know about Boston, New Yawk, Philly, etc etc etc; and we are intimately familiar with Paul Revere and Grampa George Washington. Why we even know about Charleston and Savannah and all that unreconstructed goings-on down south, but what's important here is California!

Why?

Because Americans are adventurers. Our forefathers and foremothers hit the ground running after we got off the boat in Baltimore or Ellis Island or wherever it was.

Before you knew it, we were all the way over on the far other edge of the continent, in California, baby!

Or bust! That's what the Okies said.

And that was, if you think about it, the very end of the Greek frontier. From Athens to Anaheim, westward ho all along the way. That's all she wrote.

The westward expansion of Greek culture ended at California. It couldn't go any farther. Why, even when they o'erleaped the wide Pacific, what did they find?

China!

It doesn't get any older than that--China. No Westward expansion there, although the Brits made a few dents, and of course there was Marx and all that People's trial and bloody error.

Now We Americans have a saying: as California goes, so goes the nation.

That means that, from the 1849 Gold Rush on, the great exploratory thrust of American ingenuity and creativity originates in place called California.

The land of fruits and nuts.

And broccoli, lettuce, grapes, wine, silicon, integrated circuit chips, beach boys, beach girls, computers, iPhones, movies and pop culture, etc etc etc.

So once all the migrant Europeans got themselves planted on the East Coast back in the 1800s, they built so many cities, and built them so quickly, that before you know it they got overcrowded and pulled up stakes to head West.

Go West, young man, wrote Horace Greeley, about a hundred and fifty years ago.

And very quickly. We developed America from raw earth, from Schenectady to San Francisco in less than a hundred years, blazing a yankee trail all along the way.

And when we hit up against that great Pacific rim, the grand tide of our exuberance struck a sea wall and then it swayled back the other way: Disney in Paris, McDonald's in Athens, Kennedy in Berlin!

But now--and my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars--our grand millenia-old Restatement of Greco-Roman expansionism strikes, back at its ancient nascence, an Athenian rampart.

So I see the next phase of history this way: As Greece goes, so goes the West. And this is what it looks like, according to a pic I recently snapped in Athens:


Which is to say, a propped up portal. Where can we go from here?

Glass Chimera

Sunday, September 28, 2014

the prim and the propr

Here we have the primitive and the proprietary:


Somebody's busy hands wove this low fence along the sidewalk bordering Golden Gate Park in San Francisco.

I like it. The little fence is primitive; the massive building and campus looming in the background is UCSF Medical Center, which is definitely not primitive, but it is proprietary. That is to say, it is property which is owned by somebody, presumably the people of California.

The UCSF Med Center is a large institution; the little primitive fence is not.

You might think that a fence so near that major institutional presence would be be impressive, expensive and engineered to provide big work for a local contractor or landscaper.

Not so. I like this little primitive fence. Here are my thoughts about the person(s) who so skillfully wove it:

little fence, little fence, standing low

by the sidewalk just for show

what skillful hand or eye

hath woven thy primi asymet-try?




Glass Chimera