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  • hardie karges 9:04 am on July 19, 2017 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , cockroach, , Hollywood, , subway   

    Buddhism, and the Cosmic Cockroach of Divine Retribution… 

    img_0545Hollywood is not the glamour capital of the world, as many people imagine. In fact, it’s pretty slummy, though a vast improvement over a decade or two ago. Remember Kramer’s apartment building during his trip out west (actually just right across town) in the old Seinfeld TV show? Yep, like that (that dive goes for $100 a night, now, BTW, a sure sign of impending gentrification)…

    So to see a cockroach or two in the Metro station at Hollywood and Vine is no surprise, especially considering the amount of fast food that gets tossed by the wayside by the area’s homeless, who are apparently equally bin-less, in mind if not in fact. But the elderly lady on the mezzanine level seems particularly entranced by the one she’s found trying to make a run for it, far out of his comfort zone down by the tracks, big and juicy, and slow on the getaway. Actually the lady’s probably younger than I, but you know… (More …)

     
    • tiramit 6:13 pm on July 19, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      “(the) mind’s ear, hearing what it’s feeling, substituting imagination for the lack of investigation.” This is a teaching in itself. I’ve never been to Hollywood and the thought that it is not at all what it seems holds my attention for a moment, thanks.

    • davekingsbury 3:34 pm on July 20, 2017 Permalink | Reply

      That’s the way to do it! I share your horror at the vendetta. Great post, by the way, as good as David Sedaris. Better, actually, because it has a message …

  • hardie karges 3:35 pm on August 14, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Hollywood, meteors, Perseids, stars   

    Stars and Meteor Showers, Hollywood and High Lands… 

    Image result for perseids meteor shower picsI miss the old days, when we’d sit around and watch the stars every evening, up in the sky, not Hollywood Boulevard, up in Griffith Park, not Highland or Vine, imagining that those celestial bodies were items familiar to us and picking our favorites from the crowd: the dog star, the dipper and the crab, just like old friends, there every night waiting, like Bogart and Bacall, Taylor and Burton, Jolie and Pitt, de Havilland and Flynn…

    But sometimes there would be something different, something truly exciting, an eclipse or a comet or a supernova’s Greatest Show on Earth, like the Oscars, or the latest scandal from Babylon, or the Screen Actors Guild picnic. Of course there were also seasonal changes, Sun marking off its calendar along the horizon, or the moon having its period with the rising of tides and occasionally veiling its face, coy and toying with the audience and the suitors, like Marilyn mugging for the camera or Clint squinting in the sun or Cagney reading the riot act or Jimmy Stewart taking it on the chin…

    Those were the good ol’ days, the popcorn and the ice cream and the snow cones and the corn dogs, the gangsters and the good guys and the heroes and the vamps, frozen boiled fried breaded sprinkled dipped waffled and dripped, coiffed draped waved eye-lined lipsticked cinched up and driven, just for us: every day every night every summer every winter every year every decade for the rest of our lives, rest in peace when they close the cinema doors to Heaven…

    This is the time of year for the Perseid showers and I still haven’t seen it (them) yet. Maybe I’ll try again tonight—one last chance I hope. They say a new moon is the perfect time, after midnight. But you need to be in a place of few artificial lights. I like that idea. I like it here in the Arizona desert, the higher the better…

     
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