THE WRONG WAY ON A ONE WAY STREET

Heard on Hope Street today over a police bullhorn:

"what do you think you're doing? this is a one way street!"

Enough said.

WHO YA GONNA CALL? LINCOLN HEIGHTS LOCKSMITH TO THE RESCUE

I've been down with a cold for the past few days and I'm sure the Griffith Park and Catalina fires haven't helped. Worse, only an empty refrigerator awaited me in the kitchen. In desperation I beseeched a friend to bring orange juice and chicken soup. "I'm falling apart" I told her. On hearing she would come to my aide, I stood up to leave the door ajar for her arrival. Completing a series of unfortunate events, the door handle came off in my hand.

I'm resourceful, but this repair made the best of me. The door was (mercifully) already open, but the handle was not in the mood for going back on.

After fortifying my soul with chicken soup, I called a locksmith. Low and behold he arrived in twenty minutes. "You have a very good lock" he informed me. I was glad to hear I was safe behind my door. Ten minutes later, the charming man had fixed the lock. Seventy dollars later he was on his way. I closed my door and returned to bed.

As I closed my eyes, the phone rang. It was the locksmith. I had written his name wrong on the check. I went again to open the door. More Murphy's law, the door refused to open. The key would open the door (as he tested), but the door would not open from the inside.

I tossed the key to him out the window, laughing because if I hadn't written the check wrong, I would not have discovered that I was locked in. Ironic but fortunate, I had a visit from the locksmith.

He came in and again set to work on the lock. To test his work he turned the handle. Again it would not open from the inside. When I heard the door rattle we both burst into laughter. Now he was locked in too!

Chagrined to say the least, he asked for knife to pick the lock. My "good lock" opened in one second with the butter knife.

This time we tested the job from both inside and outside and happily it worked.

I said goodbye to my dubious hero and went back to bed.

STAR LIGHT, STAR BRIGHT

From my Lincoln Heights bedroom, what is "the first star I see tonight"? Hint: it's the color of burning sodium. Yes, the standard ghastly American street light. Such an unfortunate staple in city life, that I confess I never noticed it. Until...it blinked off. A peace came over me that could only mean that it been a constant (albeit unnoticed) source of stress.

Each night now, it blinks on for three or four minutes, and then off for three or four, and then on again. Stress. Peace. Stress. Peace.

My own personal midnight sun.

Last night the now familiar pattern changed from orange/off/orange to orange/white/off/orange. Making my streetlight more and more star-like. An old, old planet burning toward eventual destruction.

It's said that it is always darkest before the dawn, but for me, it is always brightest before the dark.

FOLLOW THE RED BRICK ROAD: LINCOLN HEIGHTS TIME TRAVEL

"Well I’m heading back home it’s been so so long/It must have been ten years or more/I’m on a long lonely stretch of Route 66 but my minds in 1984/I'm walkin' down Main Street..." Walkin' Down Main Street, Dana Agnellini

"Well it winds from Chicago to LA
More than two thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on route 66"

What lies beneath in Lincoln Heights? Ask Kim Cooper. She has a great post on her "1947 Project" site: "Historic Cobblestones Exposed in Lincoln Heights" on the 1947 Project site.

Recorded history is such a tenuous thing. A little road construction and another world is revealed. So random that Kim would walk across the street and see the original cobble stone momentarily revealed. She also risked life and limb to bring us pictures. When the road paving is finished it will be gone again.

She posted her finding on a site concerned with preserving the history of LA in 1947, although the cobblestones are not a product of 1947. She just happens to live there. Still, when you finish her post you might be intrigued by the rest of the '47 Project. This from the site bio:

"Los Angeles in 1947 was a social powder keg. War-damaged returning soldiers were threatened by a new kind of independent female, who in turn found her freedoms disappearing as male workers returned to the factories. These conflicts worked themselves out in dark ways. The Black Dahlia is the most famous victim of 1947's sex wars, but hardly the only one. The 1947project seeks to document this pivotal year in L.A., through period reporting and visits to the scenes as they are today."

WHO IS KIM?

Kim Cooper edits Scram, a journal of unpopular culture, and compiled anthologies on bubblegum music and the greatest records you never heard. Her latest book is “Neutral Milk Hotel’s ‘In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.’”

INCONGRUITY AND HAPPINESS

For some it is "the butcher, the baker, the candle stick maker", but for moi, the artsy loft dweller, it is "the decorator, the photographer, the musician and the film maker"

Every night I come home to the same driveway, the same parking spot, the same pine trees, the same iron fire stairs. But last week, I drove in to a different view. An antlered deer head was mounted to the pine tree and underneath stood four sullen rock stars straight out of the sixties (running black eye liner, pale faces, long oily hair, heroin-thin and wearing paisley).

Our building photo artist was doing a shoot. "You're looking at rock stars", he told me. I took a hard look. I couldn't tell if they were famous rockers that I ought to be star struck by, or if he meant soon-to-be stars (after his photos shot them to the top). So I shrugged and said "hi rock stars" and trudged up the stairs.

There should be a special word for the happiness that incongruity can bring. That deer head just struck my silly bone. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. It was all gone when I came back out, the rock stars, the deer head, the photo shoot. It was just me, my parking space and the tree, back to earth.

OBJECT LOVE: THE COLOR OF MY DESIRE

What to do with a whimsical blue shape painted on the floor? What to do? What to do?

One year later, I have finally arrived at the combination of color and shape I was searching for.

Now to get to work on the rest of the place!

MODERN LUST: FURNITURE DESIRE

It's a radiator, it's a light, it's chair, it's a file drawer...it's the new new thing. Glorious radiator by Marco Dessi; acrylic light by Brave Design; chair by Vitra (no doubt inspired by Danish designer Verner Panton's Panton Chair); and "spinny cabinet" by Hive.


When I happen upon a pile of money (a very big pile), these are the objects de'Art that would be first on my shopping list. I would even move somewhere cold just to put that white radiator a la double helix on my wall.

Truly original, I had to post these for fear I'd lose track of these objects of my desire.

The Radiator: who would have thought this creature would be the subject of design? No sooner had I pondered this, but I came across the Bisque Radiator Awards proving once again, the limitations of my imagination.

I really have to stop reading MoCo Loco; lest I live in a perpetual state of longing.

LOFT LIVING LIVING LOFT

When I saw the pictures on Craigslist, I knew this was THE place for me. Although the photos that captured me were professional shots (taken for Architectural Digest I believe), art lived up to life and I moved in 30 days later. But since that day, my friends have said that they couldn't really visualize the space I live in from said photos.
Since then I've come to really appreciate those first photos as I've struggled to catch some sort of my own. My father gave it a "shot" as well. His best captured the hallway art and entrance way (published previously in another post).

Can one live in a work of art? But of course darling! And no, I did not get the cat to match the loft.

The most interesting part has been co-existing with illusion. I, after all, being pretty much real (the fact that my Mom says "you're unreal" notwithstanding).

"Warming the place up" seems antithetical to the design. Likewise covering its flaws (the remains of the original 1800's fireplace for example) takes away the charm.

The part I resisted so much on moving in, is the constant striving towards simplicity within the constrains of "real life".

If you want to know how many colors clash with orange/red and primary blue just ask. I've come to love red as an accent only; I've come to love chartreuse; I've come to love throwing things away;

If I could just excel at this last then storage would become a non-issue.

BREAKING FREE OF LOFT FURNITURE STEREOTYPES

If this isn't love...
then winter is summer
If this isn't love...
my heart needs a plumber
-- Finian's Rainbow

I've had an email subscription to Daily Candy for years now, and I have to admit I mostly just trash them. When I do peak it's a size zero fashion store or some ten-million dollar face cream. Why don't I just unsubscribe? Maybe it's because I held out hope that I'd have an email like the one I received today. I know the email probably went out to a hundred thousand Angelinos, yet I feel like I have made the most amazing discovery.

For years I've been lusting over Mies van der Rohe, Eileen Gray, Le Corbusier, Charles Eames, George Nelson, and Marcel Breuer and have often wondered who would join their company; and the answer is: Tanya Aguíñiga. From her shadow chair, to her modular lounge, to her low rider stools to her embrace chaise... she's made the modern furniture home run.


My loft-ment offers some daunting furnishing challenges. The white walls are painted with geometric shapes in primary colors (red and blue) and non-colors (black). The shapes form interesting optical illusions, forming a single object when viewed from the proper vantage point. Fabulous as they are, what is a girl to do to furnish, without clashing, a place that is essentially pre-designed?

Lucky for me, I love the pre-existing design (it's in the structure, the interior architecture, the colors). It's tempting to reside in an empty space (with maybe a single tall white floor light) and a simple white bed sans frame. In point of fact that is all it requires, but not all I require.

This is why "discovering" Aguíñiga made my heart skip a beat. In particular, the QB table seems MADE for my abode. I wonder if there was a secret collaboration (Giovannini (the lofty designer of the place I call home) and Aguíñiga)???? In any case, I feel an affinity a la great-minds-think alike.

TWO BIRTHS, A FUNERAL & A WEDDING: LA STYLE

Tonight there are two new LA blogs in town:

Blogger "Trucha" who lives and works within the urban core, shares his musings (and amusings) on city life; not the ordinary fare of LA blogettes (martini reviews, star sightings, etc. etc.), Trucha gives us the antidote with a unique perspective on the City of Angels. Read Truch's musings at: l.a. (a)musings

Then there is Dorothy, writing about The Emerald City A sparkling voice in the blogosphere, this Oz-like site is worth your perusal. If it just happens to be penned by yours truly, then I plead guilty as charged. I never tried plugging myself before, and I have to say, "hey, it's better than writing your own obituary!" I've opted for a Loft Living spin-off to keep this one "on topic". Viva la loft!

Sadly with the two newcomers, there comes a la loft "funeral": LoftLust blogger Brittany takes an "intermission" with these words:

"After much time away from this sweet blog and considerable consideration, I’ve decided that I no longer have the time or the gusto necessary to continue this site in its original and/or recent format. I’m open to suggestion for where to take LoftLust from here, though its fate is regrettably quite precarious. So consider this post a suspension of sorts, of all things familiar from this soapbox. Perhaps another day LoftLust will return to some sort of publishing schedule, with a different look, or a different purpose completely. My love for design and great products will always be there, but that affection regularly reinvents itself and what to do with it yields perpetual bemusement. So continue to have fun with what you are doing."

It's just my luck to find her blog after it's gone, but I hold out hope she leaves her site up, because it's full of delicious design tips!

So, two blog births, one funeral, and there's still time left for a wedding:

Yes, it's another pam-i-licious blog: Midnight Musings wedding thoughts that keep me up at night. Come along as I obsess on the mythological implications of overcoming fear of marriage!

MORE MODERN LOVE: THE FRANK GEHRY STORY

More Modern Love: The Frank Gehry Story
observations by pam ashlund, film by sydney pollack, genius by Frank Gehry

I may always be a day late and a dollar short, but today I'm reacting to Sydney Pollack's documentary Sketches of Frank Gehry by Sydney Pollack released back in May, 2006.

“Decoration is sin, that’s the mantra of modernism” Frank Gehry
"Simplicity requires a continuous shedding" Pam Ashlund

Is it cheating to quote yourself? After all if I can be presumptuous, how about Sony calling it a "Sony Classic?" Who gets to self-proclaim themselves a classic before the film is released? "Sure to be a Classic" sure, but come on... Read my last modern post to find my quote (or is that "post-modern?" Or see the flick to hear a few of Gehry's "classic" quotes.

But seriously folks, I loved this documentary "sketch". I love its message although I don't have a pithy quote for it. The message, as best I can put it, is "dare to follow your dream" "take a risk" or "jump off a cliff" and see what happens. Maybe that's a truism, maybe that only works if you have a super talent, but then again how many people have such a sense of self that they even know there's a cliff?

Want to read more of Pam's endless musings on Modernity?

Modern Love: Part I

or checkout my favorite "illusionist" architect's (Joseph Gionvannini) review by the same name:

Modern Love (October 25, 2004 Architecture Review, New York Magazine)
At the Cooper-Hewitt and Cooper Union, two exhibits highlight Modernism’s legacy

THE QUEST FOR "SPACE" IN DOWNTOWN LA

and in NorthEast LA...What the past has to tell us about ourselves


Preface: This is going to be a long introduction folks, but I invite you to come with me as I wind my way to the lofts of downtown LA by way of Washington, D.C.

On a visit to the nations capital, I found myself in the embrace of a snowstorm, or as those of us from snowy regions know, more of a "sleet" storm. Sleet is Snow's ugly cousin, like mud is to water and earth. Then there is sleet and its byproduct: slush.

Slush regardless, I ventured out and found refuge in the 2nd Story bookstore; which was, incidentally, perfect. Complete with the smell of pipe tobacco smoke (and of course no pipe in view). Inside were rows of used books, punctuated by beautiful glass encased antique offerings (oh if only I could afford a vintage copy of Alice in Wonderland).

I was momentarily overwhelmed by the prospect of choosing a browsing topic. Cardboard signs handwritten in black marker offered categories such as "the Kennedy's!", the other signs (Civil War, Ancient Greece, etc. were not appointed with exclamation points; as if the writer was unable to contain his passion for the Kennedy section.

My own exclamation points would have been for "Pop Culture!", "Modern Furniture!" or "the Sixties!" Eventually, I ended up somewhere between "Sociology" and "Art History" and picked out a copy of "SoHo: The Rise & Fall of An Artists' Colony".

Inside I found a snippet from a 1977 article that could have been written about downtown LA in 2007. Thirty years and things are really the same (only the names have been changed...)

"...it is a SoHo heresy: Space, open space, is the whole thing: the reason people suffer the broken boilers and pour vast amounts of money into leaky roofs, and rotting lintels; the reason to put up with the tourists who displace locals in the old neighborhood haunts. Space. And the atmosphere created by people who needed it to work and who rescued a neighborhood only to find that they're beginning to need even more space to breathe." Ellen Bilgore, Town & Country, 1977 (from Richard Kostelanetz's recent effort "SoHo: The Rise & Fall of an Artists' Colony"

Although this is not a review of Kostelanetz's book, I have to say that reading about SoHo gave me pause. He painted a picture. To live in a building zoned only for manufacturing, to live without heat, to live without garbage pickup, to live having to hide your bed from an occasional inspector...took heart. No casual poseur would go through that much actual suffering. He made me believe there was real artistic integrity there, not just a romantic nod.

I know I wouldn't have the courage. I know that once I saw the rats or once I had to live somewhere that the elevator didn't run at night or once I had to go discretely disperse my garbage among many bins so as not to call attention to living in a place not zoned for living...that I wouldn't or couldn't go through with it.

Although it IS true that some of my friends won't visit me in my neighborhood, that I have NO elevator, that it is sometimes noisy or cold, it just isn't suffering to park my Porsche in my gated parking space and drive off to a job every morning and do my writing on a laptop over an espresso.

The other distinctive difference was that the SoHo artists weren't displacing anyone and thus didn't have to contend with the ugliness of gentrification. Even drug dealers and homeless did not live where the artists ventured.

It's true that all changed and that in a decade or two SoHo had become SoHo and it was never the same. A moment to be retroactively romanticized. But even a romantic such as me has to acknowledge there was something special there; and I know that something isn't what's happening in the gigantic developed lofts selling for $500K. That even amidst a backdrop of skid row and drug deals, that these seem to only add the impression of grit. That these buildings have doormen should be a tip off.

I know that poverty is not all it takes to be noble, but that no amount of money can buy it either.

LOFTY HEIGHTS NAMED LINCOLN HEIGHTS NERD

I'm so excited (okay so I'm easily excited). Lofty Thoughts was named the "Lincoln Heights Nerd" by the LA City Nerd blog.

Back in January, the LA City Nerd blog, following the lead of "Blog Downtown" post How Would You Summarize Downtown LA. issued a couple of challenges:

1. Craft a One Sentence Description of LA and then narrowing the scope;
2. How Would You Describe Your Neighborhood in One Sentence?

I don't have my own just yet, but here's one that resonated (from my friend Hector):

"LA isn't a city, it's a moment"

And a '92 snippet from an anonymous friends poetry:

"Summer came to Spring Street
as something came crashing out of a third story window.
The curious few stop to wonder at its meaning,
And then move on, as if in disappointed agreement:
“It was only a chair.”

I LOVE LA

How LA defies description, every street I turn down reveals another world. I still lose my breath occasionally, sometimes at the beauty, sometimes at the devastation and chaos, and sometimes at the unintentional wit. There is always something.

One thing I've had to come to grips with: I do not define the city, the city defines me.

The fact that I drive back and forth between Hollywood and my neck of the woods (Lincoln Heights), is a reflection on the town. Some sort of oceanic gravitational field pulls me in, and then spits me out.

Some nights I see ghosts as I drive into the darkness. Some nights, leaving the neon behind, I see the night closing in on me under the crushing reality of economic class.

But this night, (once again heading for Lincoln Heights from Hollywood via Hancock Park), I am struck by the universal sense of humor of our town.

My last glimpse of Hollywood is the decrepit piano store "Stein on Vine" (still hanging on in the run-down area where Vine literally fades away as it transforms into Rossmore).

At Larchmont the grimy Hollywood ends, the streets seem to take a breath and expand.
A row of apartments guard the perimeter of the prestigious Hancock Park area. There the 1930's art deco apartment the Mauretania, winks at me. The Mauretania...JFK's former pied 'a 'terre and alleged love nest where Marilyn and he might tryst.

Just a few blocks west sits a large Hasidic community, with Shuls on every corner. There are Persian Shuls, Russian Shuls and the “classic” eastern European variety. But could LA ever be content to allow this phenomena to occur without adding a touch of irony? On the corner stands a Honeybaked Ham store (do you think they offer a Kosher one?)

Leaving the Hasidic world and heading down La Brea, I check in on my favorite combination breakfast joint and flower store “Rita Flora”, which features the appropriately named “well stacked pancakes”.

But I digress...back to Hancock park. The wide avenues are bordered by trees that form an arch of green. The trees are punctuated by the occasional majestic African palm. As I travel further, leaving the homes of the affluent behind... the trees thin, their tops no longer touching, and finally grow increasingly sickly. The needles on the pines grow brown and the trees themselves come further and further apart until you are suddenly dumped into Koreatown. There the grim skyline of downtown L.A. appears in the distance.

These streets can no longer be aided by a tree or two, they give a fresh meaning to what used to be called the mean streets. Mean, but somehow intoxicating. Here mingle Mexican Panaderias (bakeries), Salvadorian Pupuserias (places that sell “pupusas”), Korean Barbecue, tiny mercados (markets) and Vietnamese Boba shops.

Here I sail through the outskirts of Echo Park, over the river to Lincoln Heights. My roller coaster ride through town comes to a jolting stop. The adrenaline fades, I am home.

Want another taste of Art Deco LA? Try one of the Art Deco Society's events:

February 23rd, 6:00 to 8:00 pm

Cocktails in Historic Places

Broadway Bar
830 S Broadway, Los Angeles 90014

Based on Jack Dempsey's New York bar of the same name, Broadway Bar brings 40s-style glamor downtown's burgeoning nightlife scene with antique touches and a lounge fit for a kingpin. Located right next to the Orpheum Theater, the 50-foot circle bar, the chandeliers, the upstairs lounge bar make this a particularly appealing and successful example of "creative reuse."

DOWN BY THE RIVER

Oh LA River/Fishless concrete channel
--p. ashlund

First there is a river
then there is no river

From alligator attacks in Florida, Coyotes in Beverly Hills, to Mountain Lions and Bears in backyards, the story of mans infringement on the native habitats of animals continues to play out.

In the case of the LA River, man finally beat the habitat into submission in the '50's and '60's...by paving it! To an environmentalist, the whole concept of flood control has no meaning. If housing wasn't built in a flood plain (even a 100 year flood plain) there would be no threat. It seems so simple, and yet...

Seemingly dead, does our River still have any hope? The LA River Master Plan proposes "yes". It seems to be a very savvy plan, to couch an environmentalist agenda in terms of "revitalizing the economy". After all, how can we build more housing on the River, if it is so darn ugly?

Bottom line? I'm for anything that removes some of that concrete. I've never known such a painful image.

Want to participate? It's not too late. Attend the final series of workshops on the draft Los Angeles River Revitalization Master Plan (February 24th, 27th and 28th).

Come to the meetings and learn about the five "Opportunity Areas where revitalization efforts will be focused. Public input is a critical component of the process.


Want a copy of the draft LARRMP? The Plan may be viewed online at the LARRMP website

CAN LOVE BE FOUND IN A LOFT? WEDDING FENG SHUI FOR DUMMIES

Lookin' for love in all the wrong places...

Bought a little book on the Feng Shui of love:  Feng Shui Do's and Taboos for Love.  I can only assume it's over-simplified for pop consumption..but that I am the target audience. A once-again single, middle-class anglo girl with time on her hands (and who has $8.95 to spare for an impulse purchase).

The book offers do's and don'ts to help optimize your home for love. Intent on applying the advice as soon as possible, I poured over the text as if it might hold the answers to the universe.
My home is (as you know by now or could assume by the blog's title) a Loft. I soon found out I would have my work cut out for me!

Here are some of the do's and don'ts Angi Ma Wong offers:

Don't place your bed at the short wall of a pitched ceiling.

Do avoid geometric shapes, especially triangles in your bedroom...decor.

Don't make a room with irregularly angled walls your bedroom.

Don't choose a bedroom with high or cathedral ceilings.

Don't choose a home in which the master bedroom is in the front of the house facing the street. It should be protected in the rear.

To appreciate the relevance of this to my abode check out pics of the loft in question in these earlier posts:

LINCOLN HEIGHTS LOFT-MENT

LUMINOUS LINCOLN HEIGHTS LOFT

Angi goes on to warn:


Don't adorn your home with morbid or depressing ...images

Hmmm, do you think the skeleton wedding couple counts? Let's just say I have put away my Dia del los Muertos objects just in case.

A side note: Back in the early 90's I took a Feng Shui course of the discipline known as the Black Hat school. The teachers (two Berkeley-esque white guys) were a little defensive about their right to teach this traditionally secret material. After a disturbing experience after chanting the "Kundalini rising" prayer to raise energy, and the "heart opening" prayer to open to the pain of the universe, I decided the objectors might have a point.

I do recommend the following book (as opposed to the pop version above) for those interested in a less superficial pursuit of the art of Feng Shui. At first glace this book appears to be an interior decoration/feng shui text, but instead is filled with the rituals, chants and intents almost never addressed in the Feng Shui Fad Books.

TIFFANY'S: LA STYLE

Originally, I met her at at a Christmas Crafts Fair. I came to buy gifts for friends, but all that went out the window when I saw the jewelry.

At the table by the door sat a beautiful young lady, Lisa Rocha, the owner/jewelry maker of Ilaments.

She was charming and her work was stunning. I went straight for a pair of drop earrings. She told me that they symbolized balance. She had me at "balance". They must have been one of kind because they aren't featured on the website (those pictured to the left are the same stone, but not the style mentioned).

The stone was Carnelian, which is said to have the capacity to calm a troubled spirit and bring about inner peace.

I was also drawn to a silver link bracelet, with a carved red wooden heart charm. Part of her Day of the Dead “Cempazuchitl” Collection.

As I picked it up to admire, she smiled and said "A kind of Latina Tiffanys yes?".

“Cempazuchit -Nahuatl word meaning “the flower with four hundred lives” referring to it’s seeds. Marigolds are a significant symbol for Day of the Dead and are known as the “flower of the dead”. Their scent is believed to attract the souls and draw them back home.

It's not too late to own a limited edition piece, and on sale too!

For more info call: 323.257.2512 or
Go to www.imixbooks.com

TIME, SPACE & UMBRELLAS: THE WORK OF SARA ZUNIGA

"Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide"
Martha and the Vandellas

There's a pattern to the challenges of living in a loft space. The available space is vertical, the space is open, the mundane objects of existence must be stored in plain sight. The nature of the beast demands attention be paid to the placement of every object. I find it alternately challenging and aggravating.

No matter how sparse I keep it, no matter how carefully placed each object is, there is always something jarring. Simplicity requires a continuous shedding.

The balance of functionality and beauty is a dance whose feet I frequently step on. The first rung of choice: keep or discard and the second: placement. That was why I lined up my martini glasses. I just didn't want to throw them away!

They'd been sitting there upside down for many moons when a houseguest came to visit. She stayed home while I was at work and always cleaned the kitchen to earn her keep. When I came home (to a spotless kitchen) I saw that she had carefully placed a colored cocktail umbrella on each of the glasses.

They really were a thing of beauty.

Here I was always so focused on subtractions and she made an addition to such a delight. I marvel when I meet someone with that "eye" for detail. When they arrange it, it seems obvious, as if it had been put in the only place it could be.

For me it is mostly an effort that comes from inspiration by others (and sometimes imitation). I've only met a few with this gift, my sister and two of my friends. But every time I witness it, it brings me back down to my place among the humans. Humbled and impressed.

Here it is (from several view points), may I introduce...the work of Sara Zuniga:

ONE STOP SHOPPING? WHERE LINCOLN HEIGHTS MEETS HOLLYWOOD

One of the joys of living in LA is discovering the great shortcut. I hope the oft repeated notion that people will actually refuse to share these secret routes is an urban myth. What would the rationale be? Fear of some sort of stampede that would turn aforementioned shortcut into a traffic jam?

Since Lincoln Heights sits at the center of the famous Glendale Junction, it would appear to offer access to every area of Los Angeles. It is after all a place where seemingly all the major freeways of Los Angeles converge. Somehow I have failed to find a satisfying way over to Hollywood...and then...it happened. I found the perfect shortcut.

Here it is in all it's glory: Jump on the 5 North, zip up to 134, take the Forest Lawn exit and sail down to Barham, which flows into Cahuenga, which flows into Franklin, which deposits you promptly on Sunset Blvd. Voila. I was no longer a world apart.

Like any secret route, I had to run it many times before I got the kinks out. One false move and you wind up in Burbank or stuck in a traffic jam at Highland and Hollywood Blvd.

Because driving at a cruising speed is a rarely experienced pleasure, I've come to really enjoy this run, especially at night. Forest Lawn, so named as it traces the border of its namesake, the Forest Lawn Cemetery. Appropriately, the road is as dark as an old country road, and curves gracefully across the miles of this peaceful place of eternal rest.

The remains of Bette Davis are entombed here, adorned by her epitaph "She did it the hard way".

Each night drive home, just as I come up the hill, I see the arch of an entryway, and it's white marble sign with its tag line prominently displayed. It reads: "One call or visit arranges all".

Better a truism there never was. One visit is all it takes.

PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS: TREE PLANTING IN BOYLE HEIGHTS

Enough complaining already! One of my co-workers heard me b---ing about the sick trees on my block. "Well if you want to learn about trees how about getting out there this weekend?"

Oh wow, you know me, I can't back down from a challenge.

The crews were out planting 37 trees in Boyle Heights. I participated in getting two of them in the ground.

Things I learned about myself: 1) I can't swing a pick axe to save my life; 2) this might well have been the first time I used a shovel; 3) I prefer accounting!

Yes, yes, I did feel closer to nature, but more importantly I feel a lot more hopeful about my ability to help "my" trees on Broadway.