Back when I first started this stupid blog I did a bunch of posts about futbol and World Cup. I haven’t really kept that up but that doesn’t mean I am no longer a fan, far from it. Actually, I haven’t kept up much about this blog so it just fits in with the pattern. I’ve been trying to work on a final post about Grand Central Market, in which I just give up on the fresh pile of poop it has become but it fills me with so much anger that I don’t want to touch it. Anger and poop, not something I want to deal with after a full day at work. And since I work downtown, I already deal with both.
So here instead is some light fare, a flashback to my fun interests outside of hating and criticizing everything. I went out to see the USA vs Germany game at a bar, how exciting! Above we see the alley way that connects Lucky Baldwins and Kings Row in Pasadena, the two places were packed but the streets seemed pretty empty. I guess all the American losers decided to go to work instead, always the wrong choice.
Uhh, does that qualify as hating? Oh well, fuck it.
I don’t go up to Highland Park as much anymore; too many fancy new restaurants and nowhere to eat. Huarache Azteca is still an occasional draw, decent for a meal even though better huaraches can be had elsewhere. I hadn’t seen this update to the ALZA mural on Ave 56, a big ol’ Jesus Christ in some sort of “what’s up?” pose. Its nice. I especially like the fine detail in the crucifixion holes.
Someone I like thought it would be a good idea to treat me to this experience. I’m down with going up– so here we go!
I miss not having the time to explore our beautiful Lincoln Heights. Some of my favorite times in this neighborhood have been while unemployed, being able to walk or peddle around all the different corners of our isolated part of the city. Step out your front door and the doldrums are banished. You can just stand on a corner and listen to people for awhile and it is mostly always interesting. Certainly better discussions than the insipid conversations I overhear downtown, usually lawyers talking about cases, older suburbanites discussing consumer strategies, while the young offspring of those same communities yap endlessly about pathetic personal melodrama, but loud enough so as to try and inspire sympathy from everyone around them. We just hate you more.
Coming home is a relief. I don’t have any particular story to tell this time around, just thought I’d share a few recent pics of the lovely place I call my neighborhood. Enjoy!
First up, a pic of the yearly “comida de cuaresma” sign they put up at Martita’s. Looks like a few items are off the menu this time around.
The image becomes the real.
We live in a spectacular society, that is, our whole life is surrounded by an immense accumulation of spectacles. Things that were once directly lived are now lived by proxy. Once an experience is taken out of the real world it becomes a commodity. As a commodity the spectacular is developed to the detriment of the real. It becomes a substitute for experience.