since LA

a year ago today (august 16, 2013), i moved to los angeles. marking the first time in my life i would establish long-term residency outside of the bay. it had been a crazy few days leading up to the actual move. my original target date was august 15. but when remotely searching online listings for months yielded nothing, dad suggested the week before,

why don't we go down there to find your place?

monday morning he phoned me from the kitchen, leaving a voicemail saying, 

CJ, CJ, wake up! we have to go. ok, CJ...wake up.

and off we went. the two of us drove down not knowing how long the search would take.

we'll stay until you find a place. i packed a bag for a week.

i hope it doesn't take that long! 

a few days earlier i booked a cheap hotel online located at wilshire & western for two nights figuring we could always extend our stay as needed. arriving in the late afternoon, i hopped on my computer, browsing listings, making phone calls and scheduling appointments while he took a nap. later we walked to dinner nearby. over all-you-can-eat korean bbq, we cordially argued about the present-day relevance of labor unions. then called it a night.

tuesday morning, i checked the postings again. on craigslist, there was a new listing almost too good to be true. everything i had been looking for at the right price. there were no photos included which made me wary of the accuracy of the description. it had only been posted 30 minutes earlier so i rushed to send a response right away. in the elevator on the way back from breakfast, i got a voicemail from the manager with the exact address of the apartment. we headed there right away hoping to be able to view it.

upon arriving, the manager wasn't answering her phone. stuck waiting around, i walked across the street to check out another vacancy sign posted on a gate. "camille?" a girl asked as i stood on the sidewalk waiting for the maintenance guy of this building to show me the apartment. it was the younger sister of a a high school classmate. she was living west hollywood but happened to be visiting a friend in the area. we caught up for a little bit, and she recommended checking out her neighborhood for vacancy postings.

we made our way to weho only to finally receive a phone call from the manager of the "too-good-to-be-true" apartment to come see the it right away. we returned, and i went in by myself, folder of paperwork and checkbook in hand. i loved it and applied then and there. spent the rest of the day gathering additional application materials. after preparing all the documents at kinko's, we celebrated with sushi and ice cream.

wednesday morning, we checked out of the hotel. the two nights i had initially booked turned out to be enough for the task. i submitted the extra materials, deposit and first month's rent checks, and the place was practically mine. i took my dad inside to get his seal of approval. not that it was required. in our adulthood, i've appreciated that dad [and mom] have let us make our own decisions trusting that they have raised us well enough to make good choices. but i wanted the affirmation because it was not possible without him. it was a mission we accomplished together, in less than 48 hours at that. content in our achievement, we headed home, taking detours at porto's for breakfast and in santa barbara for lunch with my great aunt.

thursday was for an ikea run, loading up the u-haul and saying final farewells. then it was back to LA on friday with dad behind the wheel of the moving truck, and mom and me driving in the car. over the next few days, we worked to transform my new apartment into my new home. living without electricity and visiting the corner taco truck for sustenance.

are you happy?

he asked because that's what all the effort was for and that's all he wanted for me. the answer a year ago was whole-heartedly yes as everything seemed to be falling into place as i had hoped. but my heart has broken many times since then. others have said that loss has taught them to live better, love better. but i've been too distracted, too exhausted and too sad to give it a good try. maybe reflecting on the past year is a step. or maybe for right now, it's okay to finally stay still in the grief and just miss him.

we can work it out

1. we walk down the stairs to the platform of the 16th street bart station. our cousin has dismissed us from her birthday celebration earlier than expected due to the departure of half of the party, too long a wait for a bowling lane, and consideration of our work schedules the next day.

"pittsburg/bay point train in 2 minutes," my brother points out on our right. i look to our left and see, "daly city train in 2 minutes." perfect timing.

as our respective trains approach, we exchange a high five and side hug. small gestures of consolation and comfort to counter the heavy weight of grief in the air this week. we go our opposite directions.

2. buskers begin announcing their performance on the other end of the train car. they are raising funds for some reason or another. as i fiddle with my phone, they start to play a crowd-pleaser. it's the beatles. like many on this train, i've probably heard this song hundreds of times before. but when they get to these lyrics, the words seem to echo in my ears and head...

"life is very short, and there's no time 
for fussing and fighting, my friend"

3. the internet on my phone or nextbus doesn't seem to be working, and so i start my walk home from rockridge bart. i'm stopped in my tracks by something i have never noticed before. four familiar faces in a window with words that remain too true:

two years of torture

our last evening in the big easy. if there is anything i learned in the few days visiting, it's that this city lives and breathes music. we're still amused by how saturday night started with soothing folk music, went to a lively new orleans jazz ensemble and ended up at a reggae band dance party. and this all happened barhopping from one side of frenchmen street to the other.

we needed one last nola-style live music fix before heading back to california.

we head down toulouse, past bourbon in an effort to flag down a cab. indie music artist toro y moi walks by going the direction we have just come from. after he passes, we look at each other and laugh knowing that frances interviewed him last year before he became "big" and landed on the line-ups for sxsw and outside lands.

we see cabs passing by down other streets, but it takes a while before one comes to the corner where we decide to wait. finally, a cab slowly approaches and the three of us climb into the backseat.

frenchmen street, please.

it is quiet as he turns the car around and pauses to let other cars pass.

look how nice i am. i let everybody go ahead.

we smile at his odd opening line. i try to make conversation.

busy tonight?

monday night is probably the slowest night in new orleans.

he flips on the radio and turns left onto decatur street. a DJ is recapping songs recently played.

ooh wheee! "two years of torture." that song has to be about a relationship! have you ever been in love? if you have, you'd know it's torture. you know the comedian christopher titus?

he had a tv show, right?

yea, a long time ago. anyway, in one of his stand-up acts he says something along the lines of "if you've never considered murder, you've never been married. if you've never considered suicide, you've never been divorced." HA! ain't that the truth?

he gets distracted because we have arrived at our destination and his pack of cigarettes has fallen behind his seat.

right here is fine.

frenchmen street. you've got the whole strip ahead of you.

we pay and get out of the cab. as i'm shutting the door, i try to leave him with a final word.

thanks and don't torture yourself!

oh well, you know...being in a relationship is torture...but being alone is torture too!

himyf (ep. 2)

the year 2035

kids, as i was saying, this is the story of how i met...
joseph-gordon levitt.

who is he?!? you know who he is. he's that actor from "inception" and "(500) days of summer," those classic movies of mine that you like to watch on the vintage dvd player.

well, your aunties and i are fans. that is why when we heard that his online arts collaborative was having a show in the city, there wasn't much debate about if we would attend. a few weeks before the show, i bought the tickets from a curt box office attendant who thought the show was general admission. it worked out well though because our random assigned seats were not bad at all: a third of the way back from the stage and one seat away from the center aisle.

we were giddy with anticipation waiting for the show to begin. the opening titles finally roll on the screen. as they end, he rushes out on to the stage with his squinty-eyed smile, a video camera in hand, and an enthusiastic, "ladies and gentleman, are we recording?"

the fear that the celebrity wouldn't live up to our idea of him completely dissipates in those first few seconds. the three of us are taken aback by the fact that we are actually in the same room as him and (as your auntie frances put it) that he is "as cute and charming in person as he is on screen."

after playing a few short films, he introduces the next segment of the show: the tiny stories collaboration. it's exactly as it sounds. writers contribute 1-2 line stories and artists make illustrations to accompany them. in some cases, they turn these tiny stories into tiny films with animated art, music and sound effects.

he jumps off the stage to choose people from the crowd to provide the voiceover for a couple stories. instead of picking people who are screaming for his attention, he tells us that he will be taking "recommendations" from other audience members on who should get a chance to read. at first we are excitedly pointing at each other but as he approaches our row, we completely freeze.

in our star-stricken state, he selects two people and returns to the stage. considering our mediocre seats, we cannot believe that he even came that close to us.

the first girl who reads is good. she's kinda irritating but adds personality to the story. he is slightly disappointed with the gentleman who reads the second story. in search of a new reader, he jumps off the stage again and walks down the center aisle scanning the crowd. determined not to miss a second photo opp of him 5 ft away from us, i whip out my camera to the ready-position.

focused on getting the shot as he approaches again, i don't realize that bev and frances continue to point at me to be chosen. he gets to our row and looks directly at me and says, "you with the camera!"

before i know it, i am on stage with him reading a story in front of 700+ strangers.

and that, kids, is how i met joseph-gordon levitt.

obviously, he is not your father. at the time, though, there were a lot of people that wished that he would be the father of their children (myself included). also at the time, i still didn't know that your father would be your father. that he would be the one to really make my dreams come true.

do you know when the bus is coming?

the gentleman asks me as if he knows i just checked for it on my phone. he exudes an aura of warmth and joy: his round bearded face with a subtle smile, bright blue and gold kofia on his head, and a tan tweed blazer decorated with a colorful saxophone pin on the right lapel.

yes, it should be arriving in 5 minutes.

thank you. how are you doing today?

i'm doing ok.

are you happy?

again it seems he has read my mind or perhaps read the pensive look on my face. i let out a short nervous laugh and respond,

i'm trying to be...
are you happy?

yes, i am. i think it is a normal state to be unhappy.
but i try to have my normal state be happiness
because that is what was intended by the Creator.

that's a good way to think about it.

what makes you happy?

oh, i don't know. my family, my friends.

yes, of course...
are you an artist?

no, i'm not an artist.

are you a photographer?

i laugh again wondering how he can sense these things about me.

yes, i like to shoot photos.

oh that is wonderful. what are your subjects?

shares and follows

monday after work

1) bump into a friend at the bus stop. as she rides part of the way along my route, we chat about plans for the long weekend, friends who are engaged and getting married soon, and the possibility of doing dinner later in the week.

2) arrive home to a pleasant surprise: a letter - 4 lovely pages of heart-open free-flowing words. some impressions never known, many questions never asked.

3) thank the the light drizzle for clearing the sidewalks and providing fresh, crisp air for an evening run to berkeley bowl. i've missed this time in my days. this time when i literally run free and unfollow the world.

4) walking to the bus stop groceries in hand, i pass by remnants of college: the street i used to live on, the art store i used to acquire studio supplies, my old apt building, the pool hall we used to frequent, etc. another coincidental encounter with another friend who is peering into the window of pegasus books. he shares his endeavors in yoga as we wait for my bus to arrive, and i share some cinnamon, sugar almonds.

----------------

i know we are are tech savvy, hyper "connected" individuals, but i still cherish these moments when our lives intersect beyond the @ sign. when i can understand sentiments that run deeper than a "like" or a one-word exclamation. can you follow me here?

maybe ol' blue eyes had it wrong

outside of the fairway market on broadway & 74th

are you a bear?

huh?
oh...

i've come to accept that strangers will and do talk to me, but i still get caught off-guard when one of these conversations begins.

i realize i'm wearing the cal sweatshirt my brother got me as a gift after i submitted by SIR six years ago.

are you a bear?

yes, i am.
er, i was.
i graduated already.

we walk a few feet down the crowded upper west side sidewalk in between overflowing bins of produce and people rushing by. he puts a hand on my shoulder nearest to him and says,

if you're a bear, you'll make it anywhere.

if you're a bear,
you'll make it anywhere.

bookend encounters

a drizzly february morning.
1st task of the day: purchase snacks for a meeting in sf.
i'm early, and trader joe's is still closed.

alone, i wait, earbuds in, somewhat dazed,
not fully recovered from the spell of sickness
that kept me in bed for half the day before.

8:50am
a man rides up on his bicycle and waits too.
we begin with pleasant small talk,
but the conversation quickly turns
and he starts to vent his
frustrations and anger with
unemployment, hunger, homelessness, authority, life...

our discussion never actually ends.
i don't quite have the right words to say in response.
he trails off and shuffles among the crowd
that is making their way through the store's open doors.

ash wednesday mass that night
i say a little prayer for him.
for better days.
for his peace of mind.
i forget about all this until...


last night.
it's almost 10 o'clock
and i'm just leaving good friday service.

the next bus is in 27 min
so i opt for a less direct route home.

sneaks, jeans, backpack with
hood up over my head
to thwart an unexpected chilly breeze.
i feel like a student again
walking past people's park
reminded of this campus's strange coexistence of
privilege and poverty.

hello. you were sitting next to me at church, right?

yes, i was.

in half a block we exchange niceties & names:
the typical
how do you do?
where are you from?
where are you headed?

then the inevitable
(and these days often touchy)
what do you do?

i give my standard answer
then hesitantly ask him in return.

i'm not into anything at the moment,
but things are just starting to come together for me.
i was homeless for a few years,
but now i have a roof over my head.

we come to the corner of telegraph & dwight
where we are to part ways.

i'm headed in this direction now.
i'm glad to hear that things
are starting to look up for you.

thank you.
what was your name again?

camille.
in case i don't see you,
happy easter.

i extend my arm out for a handshake
and receive
a hug.

coincidence has a sense of humor

(i'm not talking about fate or destiny)

i think coincidence wanted me to say, "hello"