Thursday, May 26, 2011
All I wanted to do was check the directions on how to get to Olvera Street and what I found was the raping of a nation. I was two clicks away from moving on to another web site when I look to the left and see Aborigine Angelitos. "Humm" I thought. What I found was the history of the people of Los Angeles. The OG's if you will, which were not Spaniards. They were the Tongva's, whose land was as far as Topanga Canyon to Laguna Beach, Catalina to Santa Barbara, from the San Gabriel mountains to the ocean. ALL OF IT. They were the first beach front property owners. I can't even begin to imagine how beautiful it must have been. In 1769 the Spaniards with their European air, came and decided that anything noneuropean was "uncivilized". After they decided to settle and turn the Tongvas into born again migrant workers they needed a clan to keep the operation going. They sought out 11 financially strapped farm families that were of euro and African origin to run the "new found" city. The Spaniards also decided to give the Tongva's a new name, The Gabrielinos. How clever. Needless to say, I'm not naive. I know very well that Native Americans were here first and were the Aborigies of the U.S. With that being said I went home feeling kinda blahh. Today I decided to look for the positive(thx R.L)and found Toypurina. (see below) She was a medicine woman who helped in the stand against the Spanish missionaries and colonizing of her peoples land. Toypurina saw red and took this as an invasion. She gathered six other villages to join her in her fight against San Gabriel Mission. Any one in their right mind would do the same. Protect you land from demarcation. Protect your people harm and borderline slavery. She and with three others went into the primitive fight whole heatedly but ended up captured and imprisoned. When questioned by the military and asked why she was so unhappy with the "new development" of her land Toypurina had only truth, “I commanded him(her fellow fighters)to do so, for I am angry with the padres (priest), and all of those of the mission, for living here on my native soil, for trespassing upon the land of my forefathers and despoiling our tribal domains.” I bit off more then I could chew concerning Olvera Street. The history is rich and stained with blood as are most stories of questioning "authority" and making what is wrong right. I'm glad I got to know a little bit more about my own back yard and I think that my trip there this weekend will be much more humble and appreciative then just a quick stop in LA.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
I’m out here a thousand miles from my home
Walkin’ a road other men have gone down
I’m seein’ your world of people and things
Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings
Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song
’Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ along
Seems sick an’ it’s hungry, it’s tired an’ it’s torn
It looks like it’s a-dyin’ an’ it’s hardly been born
Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know
All the things that I’m a-sayin’ an’ a-many times more
I’m a-singin’ you the song, but I can’t sing enough
’Cause there’s not many men that done the things that you’ve done
Here’s to Cisco an’ Sonny an’ Leadbelly too
An’ to all the good people that traveled with you
Here’s to the hearts and the hands of the men
That come with the dust and are gone with the wind
I’m a-leavin’ tomorrow, but I could leave today
Somewhere down the road someday
The very last thing that I’d want to do
Is to say I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too
Self titled: Bob Dylan
Song: Song To Woody
Photo: Morrison Hotel Gallery
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Au cinquante-six, sept, huit, peu importe
De la rue X, si vous frappez à la porte
D'abord un coup, puis trois autres, on vous laisse entrer
Seul et parfois même accompagné.
Une servante, sans vous dire un mot, vous précède
Des escaliers, des couloirs sans fin se succèdent
Décorés de bronzes baroques, d'anges dorés,
D'Aphrodites et de Salomés.
S'il est libre, dites que vous voulez le quarante-quatre
C'est la chambre qu'ils appellent ici de Cléopâtre
Dont les colonnes du lit de style rococo
Sont des nègres portant des flambeaux.
Entre ces esclaves nus taillés dans l'ébène
Qui seront les témoins muets de cette scène,
Tandis que là-haut un miroir nous réfléchit,
Lentement j'enlace Melody
As Pops would say... "Look it up."
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
All before the tender age of 21ish, Mary Shelley was in love, pregnant, published and family bound and down. She was born into the hands of a political novelist father and feminist writer and activist mother. Both of her parents were ani marriage and immersed themselves in a tight knit group of intellectuals. The circle included none other then poet Percy Shelley. Mary and Percy went on trips with Percy's writer homies and would have ghost story writing contest.(cute)She was encouraged by her colleagues to make Frankenstein it into a novel. Her first 3 children didn't make it past toddler years and her Mother died shortly after she was born, so the premise for Frankies was all the more tragic. An advantageous heart named Victor goes away to school after his mothers death to make something of himself (a doctor)and begins to question his professors, science and even life. He felt that the question of death should be answered. Why does one have to die? Why does one have to go through the pain of losing a loved one? The science was there and all he was missing was "raw material". There was question as to who actually wrote the first known scifi blood curdling novel. Her husband Percy was thought to have written it because the thought of a woman writing this kind of literature at that time was unheard of especially at that young of an age. If they looked at her life they would have understood that she was surounded by death so a want for or towards eternal life with loved ones here on earth, as far fetched as that may be, is a beautiful want indeed. It's at what cost that kills...
Monday, May 9, 2011
Name: Norman Kingsley Mailer
Born: January 31 1923
Occupation: Writer and shenanigans supporter
Publications to be proud of: Marilyn, An American Dream, Death for Ladies and Other Disasters, Prisoner of Sex, The Executioner's Song, The Army's of the Night, Cannibals and Christians and The Presidential Papers.
This twice over Pulitzer prize winner and all around literary ground shaker has lead an extraordinary life.
Why do I like him? His relationship with Rip Torn. As seen here.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
When picking a mate
Should have known the wiser
For being the wife
Of Polanski the Knife
Would be the beginning of her demise
She was beautiful
She was cute
She couldn't act a hoot
And landed a home in the hills
When the day came
No body was to blame
But the fear of societies face.
The blood splattered beauty
And other lifeless bodies
Have now let their souls go
The grass has grown
And years have past
And one still wonders why
If watching the house
With her spouse
Would have bloomed another fate
But sadly now
She is only known as "the late"
The one and only
Ms. Sharon Tate
Cielo Drive : Ode to Sharon
By Jassy Chinaski