"And Away They Go...."

Breeder's Cup 2013

Once the fever of the famed Triple Crown cools - Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and Belmont Stakes - passions reignite for the culminating meet in thoroughbred horse racing, the Breeder's Cup. This year it was held at the Santa Anita Park in Arcadia, California. Nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountain Range, the track, one of California's preeminent, is a gorgeous art deco grandstand built in 1934. The Breeder's Cup is considered the west coast's Kentucky Derby therefore commanding a high fashion experience from celebrities and dirt bags alike. It is such an exhilarating  day from the beauty of the horses and the natural surrounding scenery to the excitement of the racing and the energy of the crowd. My dad and brother are rabid horse racing fans so I know something of the sport. It is almost guaranteed that the favorite horse in the race, as evidenced by the odds, changing minute to minute by gamblers betting on their final positions, will not win. Bearing this in mind have a little fun and place your bet on the long shots, which almost always upset. Sure you can pour over the stats and consult with experts and handicappers but they are living creatures after all and anything can happen. Precisely why a day at the races is so much fun!

A Day At The Beach

I guess I better write about the triathlon that I did since it is likely the last organized event I participate in... I think. To be clear, the organized events are AWESOME; the staff, the volunteers, the way it rallies a community.

Don't get me wrong, I love it. I'm just lazy. Unless I just can't think of anything yet that I haven't done and have a burning desire to do. Well, in truth I've always wanted to learn to Scuba dive but that is not a sport for the poor. It's always on my mind and with the advent of Groupon may be more within reach.

Anyhow, on October 6th, 2013 I competed in a cute little triathlon in Hermosa, CA called the Day At The Beach. It was a quarter mile swim in the ocean, a ten mile bike ride and a three mile run. Easy, right? Yes, easy for someone who can swim. It's not that I can't swim. But I would consider it more not drowning than swimming. You see my parents were not swimmers - not outdoorsy types in the least - and I found out only recently when I complained about this fact that they both had traumatic experiences in large bodies of water. Hence, they did not teach me to swim. My grandparents did and only because they had a pool and needed me to be water safe. So when I got the hair-brained idea to participate in a triathlon, which, hello, involves swimming, I signed up for swimming lessons at the YMCA in order to learn how to properly swim and use my breath and body effectively.

So after months of training, mostly swimming, both in the pool and the ocean, I was ready to go. I allowed myself 30 minutes to complete the swim and ended up doing it in 16.

I was thrilled to just finish and I wasn't last. The two women doing it with me, a long time girlfriend and her sister, are very athletic, especially the sister who routinely does iron man contests, 100 milers and has even swam the Catalina Channel (26 miles one way from mainland Los Angeles). Intimidating? You betcha. She says she does it because she can in the name of all of those who can't through no choice of their own. I wish I were so energetic.

It was a great day. I finished in 1:44:04 a little more than I had hoped but a little better than I had planned. Here are a few snaps to commemorate the day. The best one is of the 92 year old man at the finish line. What an inspiration to us all.

Reason, Season or Lifetime

 

Reason, Season, or Lifetime

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you figure out which one it is,

you will know what to do for each person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON,

it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty;

to provide you with guidance and support;

to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.

They may seem like a godsend, and they are.

They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without  any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient  time,

this person will  say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.

Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.

Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.

What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.

The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON,

because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.

They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.

They may teach you something you have never done.

They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.

Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;

things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.

Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,

and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.

It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

— Unknown

Death Wishes

NB: I am NOT suicidal!
This post is likely to be perceived as very weird given I'm in middle age but I just attended a funeral prompting me to have some thoughts about my own death and I wish to communicate them publicly lest there be any question about my posthumous fate.

Firstly, I want my remains donated to science for purposes of plastination. Think Body Worlds, that cool worldwide traveling exhibit with cross-sected organs, hanging tattooed skin and plasticized muscles and tendons holding yoga poses. If they can use an eyeball or something, great! If not, they can feed me to the lab rats. I do not want to take up precious space in the ground and cremation strikes me as more morbid than death itself.

I reject the idea of a sad and tearful funeral service. Such a somber and uninspiring mood - utterly counter to how I've lived my life. I hope people will joyfully congregate and tell stories and share smiles and laughter. Black attire and fussy suits are strictly verboten. Grieve quietly.

And if I'm really lucky somebody will dedicate a park bench in my honor on one of my favorite hiking trails inscribed with Rumi's "Reach Higher...Reach for your Spirit".

Fucking C

Sorry Gramma.

I wish we could eliminate the letter c from our alphabet. No living thing is impervious to mutant cell migration and the dreaded CANCER. Family, friends, pets, and family's and friend's family and friends and pets - everyone has personal experience with this wretched disease. Francis (Frankie) P., my beautiful, sweet 10 year old cat, has a tumor in his nose. It is a form of skin cancer. He is an indoor/outdoor cat exposed to the sun and other elements. Our vet said that his cat was diagnosed 4 years ago with a similar carcinoma so you can never tell how long they will live. I guess it depends on how aggressive the growth is. Eventually it will impede his breathing so hopefully I will be well attuned to his comfort since cats are brilliant illusionists and can hide anything.

It all started when he urinated outside his normal litter area - in his case in our house since he litters outside. I knew immediately something was wrong so we had a blood panel done. His white blood cells were 3 times the upper end of normal so we went through a course of antibiotic and retested. He obviously had a UTI and the levels had come down significantly but were still well above normal. I knew in my gut it was cancer but the vet suggested another round of antibiotic. Like a monkey I inspect every square inch of Frankie routinely and nothing was particularly amiss. He usually gets a little wheezy around this time of year, probably allergies, but last week I noticed he was excessively noisy as he was grooming. Then on Friday I saw a little bloody scab near his nostril so I looked closer and it looked like his nostril was inside out, i.e. tissue protruding. I knew it wasn't just inflammation from a scratch or fight.

So here we are. Again waiting for death. And heartbreak. Praying like hell that he'll slip away when it's time and I don't have to play God.

Angelenos

Not that long ago it was an act of bravery to venture downtown LA. It bustled during the day with worker ants who made a swift and mass exodus at sundown. "Skid row" spanned every street not just relegated to a few blocks. Thanks to some rethinking and a hefty infusion of cash, downtown has been transformed into a safe and exciting destination.

LA is the epicenter of car culture and it continues to be a uphill battle to wean ourselves away from the automobile. As we are equally environmentally conscious, balancing the two is challenging. Public transportation has been a source of political strife for decades as the city sprawls and commuting becomes more ubiquitous. Faltering leadership and misappropriation has left us without efficient and viable options until recently. In typical, wasteful LA fashion streetcar and train rails were demolished to build roads and now we are faced with the expense of reconstructing the rails. In a city like this it just makes sense to have light rail transport. The Expo metro line running through the west side has been open nearly a year now and we've threatened to ride it ever since.

The day we rode the train there was construction on the line so we had to exit the train around USC and transfer to a shuttle bus to transport us the rest of the way downtown. Engine Co. 28, a restaurant that I've read has great food, was literally in front of us when we got off the shuttle bus. We were hungry so we popped in for brunch. To start they were out of champagne for Mimosas. Ok. We'll get something else. We each ordered our meals and lo and behold they were out of that too and each subsequent thing that sounded appetizing. We left. Probably never to return since the service was sub-par anyhow.

Meandering under the skyscrapers of varying architectural styles we stumbled upon a farmer's market and enjoyed freshly juiced beet and orange along with delicious tamales. Take that Engine Co 28! We sat on the street with a young woman and her cockatiel, Abbey, getting the downtown happs while Abbey munched on her corn cob and strutted back and forth between my arm and her mom's. Pershing square is sort of the center point in downtown LA and divides the upity west side from the dodgy east side. These contrasts are as glaring as a looking glass as you pass over the singular city block from one to the other.

 The Last Bookstore opens a world of imagination. Sculptures and tunnels made of books in a large old shoppe dotted with lofty leather chairs and chill ambient music create the perfect place to become enlightened. Galleries sublet the upper perimeter spaces where artists inspire a deeper meaning. From there it's just a short jaunt to the beautiful deco Pershing square building and rooftop Perch. A casual french bistro is the perfect place to enjoy a cocktail on a gorgeous sunny afternoon. Sit on the patio on Sundays for jazz brunch with the sultry sounds of Palter Ego. Damon loved his jam-packed bloody Maria so much he had to floss with the celery!

We had never been to the Grand Central Market before so we dashed in to see what the hubbub is about. Meh. Snooze. But it's coordinates are just outside another LA landmark. Angel's Flight, the shortest railway in the world in operation since 1901, transports passengers up the steep incline to Bunker Hill for 50 cents a ride. The railcar lets you out at California Plaza which is just adjacent MOCA (Museum of contemporary Art). The permanent collection here is rather paltry and can be viewed handily in 30 minutes so we were happy that free admission was offered on this day.

With much of a full day behind us we started to head back to the train stop knowing that there was a hotel we wanted to investigate as a "staycation" prospect in the future. On route we saw the Standard Hotel. Catering to a younger, hipper, more affluent client the hotel is equipped with ping pong tables and a rooftop German Beer Garten. We enjoyed a pint and a sausage and carried on to the O Hotel. O is a affordable modern metro hotel noted for it's restaurant as well as accommodations.This one is on my radar for a low-key, wanker-free option. Besides it's close to The Pantry, a famous lunch counter owned by former mayor Richard Riordan that boasts it has never closed and never been without a customer since 1924. And it straddles entertainment hub LA Live to the south and all that I just described to the north.

LA is a bit of a conundrum. We are broke, corrupt, mismanaged - broken. The aforementioned not withstanding, we are diverse, welcoming, vibrant - alive. Broken but ALIVE. Los Angeles is a contradiction, a dichotomous place of everything and nothing. These truths are self-evident as one navigates the streets, particularly on foot. It's said that nobody walks in LA but we do. And we should. Because when you walk you get a new perspective. You actually have to exercise your senses rather than hiding behind your tinted windows and drowning the din by blaring top 40 on the radio. Angelenos are movie stars and the skid row downtrodden. We live in lush hilltop neighborhoods with breezy carefree ocean views and also in makeshift shelters in the roadside sand; near the glitz of the Hollywood sign and in the shadows of it and all it symbolizes. Walking and observing these differences forces us to examine, even reconcile, these two realities. It's one of the things that makes LA unique and beautiful.