lummis day: the festival of the neighborhood i never get to hang out in
In my mind, I spend my weekends bumming around Highland Park, riding my bike to the farmers market, picking up a taco, ducking into art galleries and stores that sell stylish handmade goods, and meeting friends for locally brewed beer at the York.
AK just looked over at my screen and said, "Oh yeah? Is that what it's like in Cheryl's mind?"
In reality, a more typical day would involve cleaning the house, driving to something that at least vaguely resembles work (writing date, meeting, gym), then driving to meet up with friends who live in the Valley or on the Westside. I think my cats see more of the neighborhood than I do.
I love my faraway friends and my writing dates, but today it was nice to soak in some pure HP goodness in the form of Lummis Day, "The Festival of Northeast Los Angeles." We biked, so I felt a tiny bit less like my 2009 New Year's resolution had failed. Then we listened to some lovely, funny poets at El Alisal (home of poet Suzanne Lummis' grandfather, a pioneering environmentalist and Indian rights advocate) and--triumph!--bummed around Heritage Square Park across the street.
Suzanne Lummis herself, who writes some of the best L.A. poetry you'll find. I loved her poem, "I Am Not the Los Angeles River."
Cece Peri, who also read a great L.A. poem, a sestina (or some close relative of a sestina) about the only human found in the La Brea tar pits.
Mariano Zaro, who broke with the local theme and read a sad, beautiful poem about sex and death in Zaragoza, Spain.
But, okay, now it's time to get down to business: What about the food court?
Pick the gourmet food truck of your choice. The one next to this one sold sweet potato fries and was fueled by the oil they were fried in.
It was a day for big sunglasses.
Our heritage.
Go Burbank Middle School drum line!
The wilds of Northeast L.A.
Self portrait in taco truck.
I am a service dog...but don't think that will stop me from jumping up and putting my paws on the dessert counter and trying to nab a brownie.
Lincoln Avenue Church, just one of a half dozen Victorian beauties in varying states of decay and restoration at Heritage Square.
Girl and flower.
Drinks for sale by the Franklin High School football team. AK accidentally dropped a quarter in the beverage trough and a brave quarterback (or something) fished it out with his bare hand.
HP pride = soy-ginger shrimp taco.
I am not the L.A. river either, or the 110 freeway next to it, but I love that green trickle of water and that shiny flow of cars.
AK just looked over at my screen and said, "Oh yeah? Is that what it's like in Cheryl's mind?"
In reality, a more typical day would involve cleaning the house, driving to something that at least vaguely resembles work (writing date, meeting, gym), then driving to meet up with friends who live in the Valley or on the Westside. I think my cats see more of the neighborhood than I do.
I love my faraway friends and my writing dates, but today it was nice to soak in some pure HP goodness in the form of Lummis Day, "The Festival of Northeast Los Angeles." We biked, so I felt a tiny bit less like my 2009 New Year's resolution had failed. Then we listened to some lovely, funny poets at El Alisal (home of poet Suzanne Lummis' grandfather, a pioneering environmentalist and Indian rights advocate) and--triumph!--bummed around Heritage Square Park across the street.
Suzanne Lummis herself, who writes some of the best L.A. poetry you'll find. I loved her poem, "I Am Not the Los Angeles River."
Cece Peri, who also read a great L.A. poem, a sestina (or some close relative of a sestina) about the only human found in the La Brea tar pits.
Mariano Zaro, who broke with the local theme and read a sad, beautiful poem about sex and death in Zaragoza, Spain.
But, okay, now it's time to get down to business: What about the food court?
Pick the gourmet food truck of your choice. The one next to this one sold sweet potato fries and was fueled by the oil they were fried in.
It was a day for big sunglasses.
Our heritage.
Go Burbank Middle School drum line!
The wilds of Northeast L.A.
Self portrait in taco truck.
I am a service dog...but don't think that will stop me from jumping up and putting my paws on the dessert counter and trying to nab a brownie.
Lincoln Avenue Church, just one of a half dozen Victorian beauties in varying states of decay and restoration at Heritage Square.
Girl and flower.
Drinks for sale by the Franklin High School football team. AK accidentally dropped a quarter in the beverage trough and a brave quarterback (or something) fished it out with his bare hand.
HP pride = soy-ginger shrimp taco.
I am not the L.A. river either, or the 110 freeway next to it, but I love that green trickle of water and that shiny flow of cars.
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