This past Friday I had a late-afternoon appointment at the DMV in Lincoln Heights. Ugh. Especially at closing time. Everyone anxious, bored, pissed, terrified... Man, such an ill vibe up in that piece. Wanting to shake it off, I headed across the street to skate the new Lincoln skate park.
Like guitars and books, throughout my life skateboarding has always been the great equalizer, the stabilizer, the necessary break from everything complicated or whack. And like dance or transcendental meditation, it offers a momentary reprieve from the conventional terms by which we must otherwise generally live our lives. It is art-in-motion. Which is to say it is simply the body at play, devoid of purpose or utility. It is an expression of the inexpressible.
No dice. The Swoosh was hosting some sort of grom shop contest. Not really my bag. The makeshift DJ booth, robo-beats on repeat, and MC-guy with the too-loud microphone was giving me the dumb chills. Wicked bad.
So I shot a few half-assed snaps and went on my way. Still, it's nice to see another skate park go in, especially in a part of town that doesn't otherwise give kids, lovers, haters, domino players, baby pitbulls, and gangbangers a place to get active and socialize in relative harmony.
Afterwards I tooled around El Sereno and then over to Highland Park for the Andrew Jeffry Wright opening at THIS los angeles. The exhibit is, by turns, astoundingly kooky, colorful and heartwarming. If you don't like dumb puns and scat-jokes, you should probably go, if for no other reason than to have your boundaries stretched a bit further toward the stoops.
Spent the weekend trying to do my taxes, working on work, occasionally eating, walking dogs and sleeping. In that order. Total mind cave.
Such a blur.
A vacation or a brain aneurysm... Whichever comes first.
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