Linares installation from Intersections: World Arts, Local Lives at the UCLA Fowler Museum

My mother recently became a member of the Fowler Museum at UCLA.  While she was there for an exhibit on mermaids (she collects them), they had some kind of raffle where if you sign up for membership, you could win a bunch of prizes. And as you might know, people of the Mexican persuasion cannot resist a raffle! Amazingly, she was one of the prize winners and went home with a museum membership and two tickets to an upcoming Qawwali music concert at Royce Hall. Apparently she couldn’t convince my Chilango stepdad to go with her, so I was next on the list: “Mija” she pleaded with me “please take me to the concert, it’s YOUR kinda music afterall.” I think my kind of music means I like stuff you don’t hear on radio stations with commercials. I was so glad we went!  It’s not an understatement to say the concert was one of the best live performances I’ve attended in years. The improvisational chanting was both energizing and soothing and seemed to relieve my mother’s perpetual pains.

Another stroke of luck, her first members opening party was for the new Fall exhibits - many featuring Mexican related art. The opening party was called Celebración/Cotton Candy and she was delighted to discover Culture Clash would be performing.

I’ve seen a lot of crazy things in my life but a coffee urn sporting a sombrero? Now that’s just absurd!

Even the food was in the Celebracion mood!

La Tinta Grita: The Art of Social Resistance in Oaxaca, Mexico

The evening started with a throng of cebollitas (what a friend of mine calls the silver headed set) crowded around the closed museum doors, chomping at the bit to get at the complimentary catering by EL Cholo. At 7pm the glass door opened and the rush for the tables of stale chips, chimichangas and jalapeño sangria, allowed the rest of us time to see La Tinta Grita, The Art of Social Resistance in Oaxaca, Mexico exhibit. It was strange to see these images in the hallway of the museum, when just a year ago I saw similar graphics and graffiti on the streets of Oaxaca. Hopefully, the pieces inspired some thought amongst the museum patrons in between their bites of soggy taquitos.

Culture Clash made their way through the crowd dressed and performing as street vendors, with cotton candy, paletas and a small crew of kids dressed in Yaqui Indian inspired wear. My mom made me ask for some cotton candy but I was told it was part of the theater act and they’d be happy to give me some later. Oh, embarrassing! Actually, we were treated kindly as we were one of the few groups of Latinos in attendance that weren’t performers or workers.

At one point during Culture Clash’s performance, I noticed a new member of the mobile theater crew, a Mexican man sporting a Vicente Fernandez bigote and the requisite chops. He had a sweeper and dust pail and was moving in the same circle as the performers. I realized a little later he was actually the real janitor. Oops!

pieces from Silver Seduction: The Art of Mexican Modernist Antonio Pineda (I was drooling over these!)

Some funny things I overheard from the museum crowd:

A man in a wheelchair gestures to the gift store clerk and says something sort of unitelligible but sounding like “robobama” The lady points to her lapel and says to him very slowly “No, my pin say O-BA-MA” And then the man says exasperatedly “No, I was wishing you happy new year: Rosh Hashana!”

Guy in straw hat says to his friend: “I am sooo bored of Ave 50!”

(just a reminder: be careful what you say in public, lest it end up on a blog!)

from Cara Vemos, Corazones No Sabemos: The Human Landscape of Mexican Migration

We attempt to wait for Ollin to play but there are a few spoken word artists up beforehand. I ask my mom if she likes spoken word and she says “Yeah, forty years ago when I first heard it.” Eeesh! An hour later, my Chilango stepdad is losing patience and we flee back East from whence we came.

Tortilla Arte by Rene Yañez

For more info on the current exhibits, please see the Fowler Museum website.

* I apologize for not remembering all of the artists names. I blame the jalapeño sangria!

“Llevamos un mundo nuevo en nuestros corazones; ese mundo está creciendo en este instante.”
—Buenaventura Durruti

In 1988, we were juniors in high school—me at Overfelt, my homeboy at Independence High, both on the East Side of San José where we grew up.

We had both just transferred out of the rich, white, prestigious, Jesuit all-boys college preparatory in another part of town, closer to the west side, where our good grades and hard workstudy ethic just weren’t enough to overcome the feelings of being out of place in this alien world of water polo players, flipflop dudes, sunbleachblonde hair, and parkinglot cokesnorts up the noses of the future subprime-loan-profiteering rulers of the world. In the end, even though we’d both done well, and even though we knew we were on the fast track to the Ivy League if we wanted it, we’d both decided to ditch the rich and come back home.

It wasn’t a particularly “conscious” political decision—after all, at the time we were just 16-year-olds who lacked the analytical tools, knowledge, and contextualization, to apply a clear, explicit class/race/ethnicity critique to our decision.

But it was just something that we knew in our guts—that analytical, critical awareness that functions outside the formally sanctioned realms of academic discourse and political ideology. When I would go with my mom to help her clean the houses of the parents of some of those rich, white boys, as she hustled maid money; when my homeboy’s mom would roll up in her janky hooptie to pick us up after school sometimes—while the other students drove themselves off in beamers, benzes, and the occasional hardtimes Lexus. When we, and all the other Latino workstudy underclassmen (i.e., all the Latino underclassmen on campus), worked as “waiters” at the Junior/Senior Ball in polyester red-and-black-and-white monkeysuits, serving lobster and prime rib to fratboys-in-training and their ParisHilton-in-training dates (and stuffing ourselves with fat, untouched, leftover lobster tails in the kitchen destined for the garbage).

When we crawled on hands and knees across the entire football field picking up tiny rocks and putting them into buckets—our first workstudy job in blazing August heat, before our Freshman year classes had even started—so that the field could be mowed and prepared for the campus football stars.

In all these moments, and in countless others that were often too subtle to pinpoint, that required reading between way too many lines—color, ethnicity, gender, class, sexuality—we recognized that the price to be paid for being able to poach off and steal the knowledge that had been hoarded here, was far too high.

*




In 1989, we were sitting at a long worktable scraping labels off of recycled computer chips with rubbing alcohol and razors under a long, hanging row of fluorescent lights, and before I felt the movement, I noticed those low-hanging lights starting to sway, and suddenly we were all huddled under the table, while somewhere nearby, giant chunks of bridge were collapsing, people were being crushed, and a World Series game was delayed between the Giants and the A’s.

Less than a month afterward, the first completely unimpeded hordes of freemarket barbarians began streaming over the globe with the collapse of the last false barrier and the rise of a new evil empire of “progress” and “hope.”




*




In 1988, we were sitting somewhere in the bleachers or something, way…way—way behind center field, cheapest seats in the house, but not so cheap for us. Something like $70 each—which—not to sound like too much of an old man—was a lot back then, considering it bought you something like seven tanks of gas.

Anyway, realizing that this might well be (we still wouldn’t admit most likely would be) the last game of the series, we’d hustled it up to Oakland at the last minute, with no plan other than to park and then wander the lot looking for somebody with tickets to get rid of. The game started at, like, 7, and we’d decided to go at, like, 4.

I don’t remember much of that game. I’ve never been a sports statistician or any kind of statistician, really. But I remember the feeling in that last inning of Game 5—as we watched the whole thing slip away to the underdog Dodgers—of trying to hold onto something that was so obviously already gone. No doubt, the hometurf loss made this feeling even more palpable, as the collective zeitgeist of the moment seeped into us and all the hometown A’s fans in those final moments of disbelief as this powerhouse team sank in defeat.

But for me, there was something more.

Because in those days, I was always experiencing and articulating this weird future-nostalgia, where I’d suddenly step out of a moment and imagine looking back at it five, ten, twenty years from then, through the lens of nostalgic recollection—

—but the moment would often still be in the process of occurring. The game wasn’t even over yet, and already, I was imagining how, in 2008, I would look back at this moment of loss as an “old” man. Similarly, I’d be hanging out with my friends, listening to freestyle and old school music on our crappy car radio, and I’d often say stuff like, “You know, old people now listen to, like, 50s Oldies, right? Like when we turn on the Oldies station, it’s like ‘Rock Around the Clock’ or some other stupid shit like that?” And my friends would go, “Yeah?” And I would say, “Well, you know, when we’re old, this is gonna be the music we remember. This will be our Oldies—Trinere, Shannon, Stevie B.” And my friends would go, “Uh…yeah…?” and I would go, “I don’t know, that’s just weird to think about…or something…”

And of course, my friends would look at me like I was fucking crazy.

Which I don’t blame them.

Because I was.




*




These days, I don’t engage as much in awkward future-projections of nostalgic recollection as I go about my life (at least, not out loud). I’ve learned to try to stay in the moment, to not use this weird fusion of future/past to avoid/erase the present.

But sometimes it’s hard, when you’re watching the “world” collapse all around you and slip away, to not project yourself into the future, and imagine what it will be like to look back at this moment when it all began its final descent into crumble and decay.

And on the one hand, while it might look like I’m being escapist and trying to avoid the moment, or even full-on, dark, apocalyptic pessimist, these days, I prefer to see it as a form of the deepest optimism.

Because not only am I imagining a future to look back from in the first place, but in that future, I imagine myself remembering how I lived to see this nightmare finally start coming to an end.

In this, there is no nostalgia, no clinging, no false hope, or “progress”—just the creative, collective imagination of a future world that is once and for all free of the control of those who delude themselves into refusing to let their power slip away.

This world exists now, here in our hearts. Not on some poster attached to some face and a word. That is pure abstraction, nothing but more illusion and distraction to feed the spectacle.

This world exists now, here in our hearts, it is real and palpable, it is something that you can see and taste and smell.

It is the tiny black hole in this vast, slick wall, through which true freedom creeps and slithers and mutates and crawls.

It is the black hole of the deepest, densest illumination growing from the superconducting collision of pure desires with nothing left to lose and therefore nothing left to fear and therefore everything to gain.

It is the new world in your heart, already here—ready to play.

I like to think I was destined to be a lifelong Dodger fan. I was born just before Fernando “El Toro” Valenzuela was called up to the majors in September 1980. Of course, I don’t remember that. Nor do I remember Fernando Mania and his awesome 1981 season which resulted Cy Young and Rookie of the Year awards. In fact, I really don’t remember much about Fernando during his prime years except for listening to Jaime Jarrín announce over the radio, “¡Lo ponchó!”

Fernando made many people fans… or at least increased their love for the Dodgers. Still, I can’t say Fernando made me a fan. My dad gets all the credit for that.

Dad became a Dodger fan as soon as he got to LA in 1962 (or was it ‘63?). He tells us stories of going to games to see Sandy Koufax pitch and of playing stickball in the street. Of course when he got married and had children, he enrolled us in Little League. Even though he worked a lot, he still had time to teach me how to throw, catch, and a proper batting stance. He also taught me what it meant to be a fan.

In the summer of 1988, my family took a trip to Lake Tahoe. Dad meticulously packed bags of clothes, boxes of food, a guitar, boombox, beach chairs, umbrellas, towels, inflatable raft and water toys in our maroon van. I squeezed myself in the back with my three siblings, coloring book and waxy crayons on my lap.

We pulled up to the parking kiosk at the beach/lake shore. The parking attendant eyed my dad’s familiar LA Dodgers hat fit snugly over his shaggy black hair.

“You a fan?”

“I’m wearing the hat, aren’t I?” Dad responded and handed the attendant some money.

“I guess so,” said the attendant as he handed dad his change with the parking ticket.

Dad took the ticket and steered the van toward a spot close to the beach. The metiche in me was curious and confused.

I piped up, “Dad, why did he call you a fan? Did he mean fan, like un abanico?”

“No. A fan is someone who really likes a team. He asked if I was a fan because I’m wearing my Dodgers cap.”

“Oh. I like the Dodgers. Does that mean I’m a fan?”

“Yup! You better be!”

Go Dodgers!

Opening Day 1986 photo from the Los Angeles Times photographic archive, UCLA Library. Copyright Regents of the University of California, UCLA Library. Photo used under a Creative Commons license.

One way or another the immigration issue has to be addressed by the U.S. government. I urge that anyone that supports positive immigration reform to sign the petition and spread the word. Fast for a day if even possible, even though most of us, including myself, can’t because we have responsibilities that need us in our full mental capacity. Not only that but make sure to register to vote and let your voice be heard. There are some of us that don’t even have that privilege and for someone to just throwaway their vote is ignorant and stupid. Everyone complains about how bad things are, so then do something about it and vote.     

21 DAYS BEFORE THE 2008 ELECTION THE LARGEST HUNGER STRIKE IN U.S. HISTORY 

CALLING ON ONE MILLION PEOPLE TO SIGN A PLEDGE TO VOTE FOR IMMIGRANT RIGHTS

The Fast for Our Future campaign will begin in Los Angeles on October 15th, 2008, three weeks before the November 4th presidential election. Over 100 people will fast in order to mobilize our community to vote for immigrant rights. Fasters will give up all food and juice liquids. We will only drink water.The Fast will be based at an encampment at La Placita Olvera, the historic heart of Los Angeles. The encampment will be a visual representation of the size of the hunger strike. Fasters will sleep in tents and live at the encampment for the duration of the hunger strike. The Fast will continue until at least one million people have signed the Pledge to vote and take action for immigrant rights.

Daily Public Schedule of the Fast Encampment:

8:00 - 8:30am Prayer Service
8:30 - 9:30am Agenda for the Day
10:00am Public Announcement or Press Conference
11:00am - 12:00pm Rest Period
12:00pm - 4:00pm Work
4:00pm - 5:00pm Rest Period
5:00pm - 6:00pm Vigil
6:00pm - 8:00pm Group Reflection
8:00pm - 10:00pm Free Time
10:00pm - 6:00am Quiet Time

El Pueblo De Los Angeles Historic Park

845 N. Alameda Street

Los Angeles, CA 90012 

It’s a lovely thing, and the community really seems to enjoy it and use it. I’ve never jogged on it myself because I find the fact that you have to circle around a cemetery to be  a sort of grim reminder that says to me: “You’d better keep your ass running, or you’ll wind up in here soon enough, Esé!”, I don’t need that kind of motivation to exercise.

Anyway, while watching the joggers I noticed something special. A woman was strolling along, walking her dog. Now, at the risk of coming off like a George Lopez comedy routine I really have to say that in all my years in E.L.A., It’s not often I come across people walking their dogs around here, and so I got to wondering, based on my experiences of living on both sides of the river, why is there such a gap in the way dogs generally live on the Eastside as opposed to Westside canine culture. I normally loathe making lifestyle comparisons based on race or region because usually most differences are more about class values rather than anything else. Nevertheless, based on my observations here in Los Angeles, it seems that the further West you travel, the greater the “dogprint” is. By the time you get to Santa Monica, for instance, you’ll find that dogs practically run the place. I remember a few years ago when the gentrifying “Urban Pioneer” boom was just happening in Downtown L.A., someone on the Downtown News was quoted as saying: “…You know that Downtown L.A. is really becoming gentrified when you find more dog shit than human shit on the streets these days.”

Recently, I had a discussion on this subject with someone who suggested that animal ownership attitudes and the way people treat their pets might be related in part to the fact that some people have a more “rural” approach to animals. She stated that people who grew up and lived in the country or on farms (or have that rural influence in their lives) typically have a lot of affection for their animals, but at the same time, fully recognize that these beings are in fact, Animals, and thereby make clear distinctions between them and humans and never blur the two. This would then suggest that some people out there perhaps don’t see that distinction so clearly. Whatever the reasons for these differences, here are some examples I have observed to illustrate this apparent contrast in pet East/West lifestyles.

Some Westside and middle to upper class regions in L.A. commonly offer these Pet Services:
•    Pet Sitting,
•    Pet Walking,
•    Pet Taxis & Shuttles (supershmuttle.com)
•    Pet parties, (http://itstheleashicando.com/services.php)
•    Pet Daycares & Camps
•    Dog Parks
•    Pet Fashion Designers
•    Dog “Ranch” (featuring: “Zen Pillow Den” for the mellow, reflective types. bluedogboarding.com)
•    Doggie Bar & Restaurant (pussyandpooch.com)
•    Pet Gourmet Chefs,
•    Pet Psychiatry,
•    Pet Potty Training,
•    Dog Seat Belts for car rides bowwowbungalow.net),
•    Pet Travel aids,
•    Dog Cafés and Bakeries,
•    Karma Dog Training (karmadogtraining.com)
•    Pet Masseuse
•    Pet Colonics
•    Dog Fashion Boutique (woofdogboutique.com)
•    Doggie Gym (barkavenueLA.com)
…. The list is actually endless…….
Just to add to this East/West pet distinction, I recently saw a “Lost Cat” poster on a light pole off of PCH near Malibu: $5,000.00 Reward! That’s FIVE GRAND. No Mames!, on the Eastside we wouldn’t pay Five Grand to find our lost Tia Concha!

On the Eastside: I’ve observed that some Eastside residents encapsulate all of their pet’s Walking, Feeding, Playing, Pooping, Boarding, Dog Sitting and Social Interaction needs through the act of one simple process:

•    Leave the front gate open.

Here in the Eastside (and in some small towns I’ve visited) I’ve often encountered what I can best describe as a “neighborhood dog”, meaning that it seems to belong to no one in particular but everyone recognizes it and feeds it and treats it like a member of the community. Then, there are the security dogs. The big silent brutes types that sit chained up all day and night within the gates of those suspicious Barrio McMansions that seem to spring up all over the place.

Obviously, these examples do not define all pet relations in the city. I have witnessed examples of good and bad pet treatment on both sides of town. I’ve even witnessed homeless people who treat and care for their pets quite well. Recently, I walked by a hipster couple tying up their dog outside of MALO bar in Silver Lake while they went inside to have drinks with friends. I also saw a vendor at the Sunset Junction Street Fair leave his dog in his truck for 6+ hours (“The A/C is on!” he called out to people nearby as he ran off). Better judgment as to when to leave you dog at home should be a top priority around here. Unfortunately, these poor pooches can’t speak (or they might say: “Hey, I’d rather you’d leave me at home instead of dragging me here to watch you slurp your fucking Gelato all night!) and these animals are often used as nothing more than a fashion accessory or social magnet on the streets. Maybe this would explain why the Westside actually needs those “Pet Psychiatrists”.

So, by the time my Taco order came through the truck window that day, a big, reddish brown Husky type dog had walked slowly past the plastic milk crate I was sitting on. It sniffed the air for awhile and then resumed it’s long solitary walk . For a long while, I watched him shuffle down the street, casting his long doggy shadow as the approaching Sunset put a pretty amber glow on the Eastside streets.

Some Westside Dog Images…….

http://www.yelp.com/biz/silver-lake-dog-park-los-angeles

You can’t go anywhere without running into Dog Walkers in Santa Monica

I shot all of these images within a 15 minute period on one stretch of Ocean Avenue. Santa Monica.

An Eastside scene……..

Another thing I’ve observed on the Eastside, where did this idea originate that a container of water left in the yard is an effective Dog Repellant? My parents had put out these water filled jugs by their front gate to deter some pesky stray canines who had been lately leaving nasty little “gifts” on their lawn. I pointed out to my Dad that this method did not seem to deter some dogs who continued their foul visits despite the presence of contained water. Right then, a neighborhood dog approached, cruised right by the water jug, and proceeded to “lift a leg” in our yard, my Dad simply stared angrily and shook his head. “Pinchi Perro ‘Stupido!”, he muttered.

In Quantum Physics, there is a Law of Attraction in which similar objects are attracted to each other. Since we humans are also part of the physical world, that theory would also apply to each of us.
I am fortunate to meet many great men and women during my usual week. They work quietly and diligently in the background, always steady, always faithful—adding more than their share towards the whole. It is not then surprising that two such similar beings should succumb to the Laws of Attraction even on the eastside.

Dewey Tafoya born in East LA, raised in Boyle Heights was fulfilling UCLA’s practicum for non-service learning at Self Help Graphics, when his vibrations collided with those of recent Texas émigré Becky Cortez, a graduate in social work. One of their first assignments at Self Help Graphics was to conduct the mask-making workshop for the 2003 Annual Dia de los Muertos Festival. Both had that ‘inner artist’ thing that gravitated them to the LA visual and music art scene. In the fall of 2003 over a table of neighborhood children, glitter and paint, their mutual botany bloomed into full flower.

Each year since 2003, Dewey and Becky are the mask-making group leaders, just as for over 30 years Ofelia Esparza and family are the Community Altar and paper flower workshop artists. In spite of the financial struggles and changes that have occurred at Self Help Graphics since 2003 these faithful, steady and committed to community heroes come year after year to lead the children in a cultural endeavor that like art, has no boundaries or limitations.

Dewey & Becky—-always spoken like its one word now— can be seen performing their own mix of Chicano/Punk music, selling their Social Machine Productions ELA style urban wear, being part of an art project, attending all their friends’ art exhibits, caring for their families, and being called to help when no one else can. If that’s not enough, Becky recently got her Master’s degree and since she came to LA has been a full time teacher at Camino Nuevo Charter Academy, one of the prototype inner city schools whose aim is to provide a nurturing supportive environment to children who typically get run over by public schools. Dewey recently quit a lucrative job, where he spend most of his day sipping coffee, reading the paper and supervising, for a part time job in Santa Ana where he leads an after school “problem with homework, help & enrichment program”. Boy, did they hire the right person for the job.

I always look forwarded to Becky’s “Hi y’all!” big smiled Texas greeting when she walks into a room, followed by Dewey’s peaceful beam of joy. I wonder (as most comadres do), if there are wedding plans in their future—to which they answer, “When it happens, it will be on Day of the Dead.” Knowing their esthetic for fun, art and family—that will be a wedding not to be missed.

I hadn’t been to any of the previous ones but since a couple of friends had glowing reviews of last years Eagle Rock Music Festival, I figured it was time to check it out. They were right, it’s a very fun festival with a good mix of bands, food, booths, and most notably, people. (It’s kinda like the Sunset Junction used to be in the early days which just reminds me how bad that “festival” has become.) I was only there for a short time, but click ahead if you want to see what I saw!

As the pic above demonstrates, the ERMF is free which instantly gives it a bunch of extra points. This very fact is what leads to the wide range of people in the crowd; there isn’t an economic barrier to check it out. (When the Sunset Junction was free there was much more diversity in the crowds, in the range of ages, ethnicities, and background. Once they started charging it became a showcase for homogenity, and no matter how good the music might be, that’s just wrong and boring.) Make sure you drop in some money next time to keep the free-ness going.

Even though I got there around 10:30 (I had to finish my recycling route and feed the chickens) it was still going on pretty strong. Lots of folks were just hanging out, not necessarily listening to bands. People like to be around people.

I got there in time to see a bit of Aztlan Underground but I didn’t recognize any of their songs, I guess I haven’t been paying attention to their new stuff. Yaotl made a statement something along the lines of being excited to play to a such a diverse crowd rather than just being limited to the barrios of East LA and Santa Ana, because “we are all in this mess together.” I have to agree, it’s good to see AUG outside of the Chicano context.

I have to be honest: I didn’t go to this event for the music, my musical interests are elsewhere these days. So I’m not going to say much about the bands, if that’s okay with you. But I do appreciate the diversity of music styles and how they seem to get lots of local groups and bands. I did take a pick of Glank while they were playing some crazy stuff over at the children’s stage. Not many lil’ kids in the crowd though.

There were merchant booths as well, but I think a bunch had already closed by the time I got there. Here we see a very LA t-shirt, with the proper font and the corazon sagrado thrown in for good measure.

They also had this nice one but I can’t figure out what it means; I Calavera LA? Sepa…

Oh yeah, the Obamaiites were out in full force. Aren’t you all getting a bit carried away with your faith in one politician? Didn’t he just approve that massive bailout for the wealthy corporate banks? Just like Villaraigosa, get ready to be dissappointed.

Hahahahahaha! Hohohohohohoho! Hehehehehehehe! If you really believe voting will make “them” pay attention, well I just feel sorry for you. This message appropriately found next to a rack of hipster granny fashion wearables. As my friend said, “in ten years, these kids are going to regret dressing up like their grandmas.”

The most entertaining part of this street festival were the dance crews and the crowds that were cheering them on.

I’m not sure I understood what was happening, but I think this guy in the white mask (someone joked he was a jabbawockeez) was challenging the dude in the muscle shirt that seemed to be controlling the dance floor, err, street.

I also wasn’t sure if beard guy was trying to do some ironic dancing, but even so, he joined in to the street dance challenge.

I’m quite sure he lost when the Controller did this hat-take-away-head-pat move, but the the more-beard-than-hair guy was a good sport, and the crowd was enjoying all of it.

You can’t have a congregation of people without a source of sustenance. Here we see the stall for King Burrito, ready to join the royal ranks of King Taco, and King Torta. All we need now is for someone in LA to claim the title of Menudo King!

On a more humble note, this fundraiser claimed to have the best tacos only in Eagle Rock and Highland Park, I like their modesty! I should have asked the salsa verde lady for her opinion.

Figueroa Produce also had a booth, in case you want to make your own tacos. This new grocer has a good selection of unique products for the size of their store (Veganaise!) and it’s worth a visit. But I think they need to reconsider their POS software, as that seems to be the reason the checkout process takes so long. Just saying.

Over at the Loft hair lounge (?) there was a whole different set of kids and growups into the dancing thing. The word that best describes the vibe and mood of these dance circles is ’sincere’. The kids weren’t trying to be ironic, they weren’t performing for cameras, they were just doing what they do. Sincerity amongst hipsters is no small feat.

Even the young ones got center stage.

This guy’s confidence was inspiring!

Much of the good-natured vibe around the event might be due to the drinking of proper liquids, most of which had to be concealed in paper bags. Even though it was pervasive in the crowd, the chota was quite prepared to look the other way. I should note, for the sake of pointing out a sad reality some of us have to live in, that during the Fiesta Broadway these attempts at subterfuge were not effective, and the police seemed much more willing to enforce the open container laws. I fully support and encourage the “looking the other way” practice as it’s a reasonable approach, but it sucks to be aware that this “looking the other way” tends to happen only for certain groups and for certain events. It’s that “selective” enforcement part that many new Angelenos, often in parts of town that are less policed, have yet to encounter. Worse, they tend to base their opinions on never having to see how these things play out. Hang out with the “wrong” crowd for just a little bit and you will understand exactly what I mean.

Crazy smoke happening in some stalls.

Artwork that emulates the look of stack of LP’s and Casssettes.

EL CHAVO! amongst the OG Zapata and the newer Zapatista leader. As long as I’m in good company, no hay problema!

Text messages and phone calls are taken into consideration as plans are formed for the next party stop. May Ye Always Have Another Destination!

I ran into the Lincoln Heights Sidewalk Sale quite by accident today and I took just a few pics to capture the vibe of this one. Click ahead if you want to see!

(In LH, it’s not a real holiday until you see these paintings show up in the shop windows, done by some guy I’m told is named Picaso. Bring on the Halloween!)

Oddly, they were actually working on the sidewalk during this sale, maybe too many sidewalk shoppers?

Looks like they were almost done with the LeBlanc’s corner. I’m gonna sneak back later to leave my placa. Shh, don’t tell.

Nothing sez I Love You like a basket of plastic!

This woman was selling this amazing product that lifts all stains from carpets, including soda pop and brake dust. It was mind-blowing!

Some store owners put up enticing signs to get you into their shops. If you need a halloween costume, a drink, and a card reading to figure out your future, here’s your one-stop shop.

At $3.88 for a pair of shoes, that’s an awesome deal. Though the mixing and matching made me hesitate, I’m not sure If I’m ready to take on the fashion world.

Now PAIRS of shoes are going for the more appropriate $32.88, but at least they’re Florsheim’s. Hey, that’s actually a good deal too!

Selling a different type of product, your local Atalayas. I know they’re Jehovah’s Witnesses but I like my term better. Broadway, Brooklyn, or Whittier, anywhere there’s steady foot traffic you’ll see them hanging out, supposedly to spread the word but usually just chatting it up amongst themselves, with a magazine as their shield. Just so long as you don’t come waking me up on a Saturday morning, then we can be friends.

Very appropriately for the season, our local funeral home gets in on the sidewalk sale business. I imagine that’s gonna be a hard sell.

“Miss, do you want to go out in a plain old cardboard box like the average poor chump? If you start financing now, you can kick the bucket with class. Besides, you don’t want your cemetery mates to laugh at your lack of style, let me show you the various colors in our latest line of DiePods…”  That’s really what he told her! Nah, not really.

“Cool Tony, but I gotta go cuz some fool is boring me with his stupid pictures. Te hablo al rato.”

Cumbia Record @ East Los Angeles Swap Meet (note the tambor head)

Botanitas is an ongoing feature bringing you stories and news from various sources, upcoming events and other bits of ephemera that might be of interest to LA Eastside readers. Suggestions welcome!

Pet Peeve

So there’s this movie called Beverly Hills Chihuahua (chee-WOW-wa, how nice they give you a pronunciation guide) out this weekend and I’m sure it’s filled with cringe worthy cliches. What’s bothered me most about the promos, besides the typical anthropomorphic stereotypes, is the music. If those dogs are supposed to be Mexican, then how hard is it to have actual Mexican music as part of the soundtrack? C’mon Hollywood give us some mariachis, rancheras, even a little cumbia. Enough with this fake salsa-ish, hot cha cha cha crap. Thank you.

Out of the Enclave: Latinos Adapt, and Adapt to, The American City

(h/t LA Observed) An interesting discussion on Planetizen with Latino Urban Forum’s James Rojas.

An excerpt:

The bacon-wrapped hot dog does not, needless to say, appear on the menu at Spago. Nor on that of Nobu, Luques, or Cut – or on that of any other restaurant, for that matter.

Instead, one of Los Angeles’ most infamous delicacies — a frankfurter swaddled in bacon and accompanied by peppers, onions, and picante sauce — is grilled up on streetcorners, parking spaces, and vacant lots, by chefs more familiar with salsa than sausage. They appear at farmers’ markets, street festivals, and Hollywood Boulevard at last call, when the turntables spin down and clubgoers stumble out into the night, and then they pack up and roll away, back to neighborhoods like Boyle Heights, Pico-Union, Bell, and Pacoima.

Informal though it may be, this fusion of classic Americana, immigrant entrepreneurship, and Los Angeles’s awkward conception of public space is but the most cholesterol-laden element of a complex, deeply rooted urban tradition that may, if current demographic patterns persist, become the dominant urban trend of 21st century America.

Eagle Rock Music Festival

One of the best music festivals in Los Angeles and it’s free!

10TH ANNUAL EAGLE ROCK MUSIC FESTIVAL
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2008
5PM-MIDNIGHT
ON SIX BLOCKS OF COLORADO BOULEVARD B/T EAGLE ROCK BOULEVARD + ARGUS
STREET, 90041
FREE

Celebrate 10 years of a community street festival with a unique and
independent neighborhood vibe. The Eagle Rock Music Festival will
feature over 60 independent artists of all genres, with a focus on
LA’s local music scene from Highland Park to Boyle Heights and
Downtown LA to Silverlake. Including Earlimart, Edward Sharpe + the
Magnetic Zeroes (featuring Ima Robot’s singer, Alex Ebert), Build An
Ark, Radar Bros., Mika Miko, Crystal Antlers, Abe Vigoda, Emily Wells,
the Antarcticans, Very Be Careful, Arohi Ensemble (classical indian &
raga jazz), Aztlan Underground, Cava, the Cobra Lilies, the Parson
Red Heads, Pizza!, the Evangenitals, Princeton, the Flying Tourbillion
Orchestra, Forever Dedicated Gospel Group, Gangi, Le Switch, Light
F.M., One Trick Pony, Upsilon Acrux, and more– plus live painting by
Unification Theory, the SASSAS Soundshoppe, Mamacita’s Marketplace (an
independent artisan market), the BugHouse Soundsite, interactive
percussion with GLANK, a stage just for kids, and more!

Here is the complete schedule and list of artists:

1). Emerging Stage

5:00-5:30—Princeton
5:45-6:15—Pizza!
6:30-7:00—Abe Vigoda
7:15-7:55—Earlimart
8:10-8:50—Crystal Antlers
9:05-9:20— Gangi
9:35-10:10— Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
10:30-11:10—Mika Miko
11:25-Midnight—The Evangenitals

2). Global Stage
5:00-5:45 - dublab DJ
5:45-6:45 - Very Be Careful
6:45-7:30 - dublab dj
7:30-8:30 – Fool’s Gold
8:30-9:00 - dublab Dj
9:00-10:00 - Build An Ark
10:00-10:30 - Speaker & dublab dj support
10:30 - 12 - Domingo Siete

3). Panang/Zocaloc Stage (Spoken Word/Local Hard Rock)
5:00-6:00-Mike The Poet – Spoken Word
6:00-6:45- The Bus Stop Prophet – Spoken Word
7:00-7:30—Stab City
8:00-8:30—HDR
9:00-9:30—Nu-Tra
10:00-11:00—Aztlan Underground

4). Renaissance Arts Academy (Classical)
5:00-7:00- an eclectic program featuring music by 20th and 21st
Century Composers performed by students of Renaissance Arts Academy

5). Colombo’s (Blues/Full Service Rock and Roll )
5:00-7:30—The Joe Johnston Band
8:00-10:30—Ann Likes Red

6). Bateman Water and Heating Co. (Punk-A-Billy)
5:00-7:00 – Late Night Snack: Literary Cabaret
7:00-7:30—Permanent Blue (Eagle Rock HS Battle of the Bands Winner)
8:00-8:30—The Beeters
9:00-9:30—Le Face
10:00-11:00—The Curs
7).Women’s 20th Century Club (Big Band/Swing)
5:00-9:00—The Jack Lantz Big Band

8).Welcome Inn (Zydeco)
8:00-10:00—Fontenot & Pappion Louisiana Band

9).American Tire Depot – Eagle Rock Block and Friends
(Local/Emerging/Independent)
The Ship Studios Stage/Eagle Rock Bowling and Drinking Club
5:00-5:30—Downtown/Union
6:00-6:30—Amnion
7:00-7:30— Landy with The Black Pine
8:00-8:30— The Flying Tourbillon Orchestra
9:00-9:30— The Parson Red Heads
10:00-10:30— Radar Bros.

Kingsize Soundlabs Stage/ Eagle Rock Bowling and Drinking Club
5:30-6:00—Human Value
6:30-7:00—Pierre de Reeder
7:30-8:00—Divisadero
8:30-9:00 — Le Switch
9:30-10:00—Light FM

10). Rantz (Latin Lounge)
6:30-8:30— Kotolan
9:30-10:30—Kotolan

11). City Hall (Children’s Stage)
5:00-5:45—Open Gate Theatre
6:15-7:00—Ellen & Matt
7:30-8:00—Special Guest
8:15-9:00—CA Combo
9:30-10:30—Glank

12). Church of Christ (Indian/Gospel/Sound)
5:00-6:30—Forever Dedicated Gospel Group
7:00-8:30—Arohi Ensemble (Classical Indian & Raga Jazz)
9:00-10:30— The SASSAS SoundShoppe: An improvisational, experimental
sound performance featuring Joe Potts, Gabie Strong, Greg Lenczycki, Jorge
Martin, Helga Fassonaki (Metal Rouge), Andrew Scott (Metal Rouge),
Doug Henry, and others to be announced.

13).Camilo’s (Jazz)
5:00-6:30—Andres Torres Trio
6:30-7:30—Cynthia Speer
8:00-10:00—Cynthia Speer

14).Swork (Singer/Songerwriter)
7:00-7:45—New London
8:30-9:30—One Trick Pony

15). American Legion Hall (Experimental Torch Music)
5:00-5:45—The Cobra Lilies
6:00-6:30—The Antarcticans
6:45-7:30—Emily Lacy
7:45-8:30—Upsilon Acrux
8:45-9:30—Emily Wells
9:45-10:30—Jesske Hume/Joe Berardi/ Jeremy Drake: Experimental Improv
(with butoh by Oguri)

16). Divine Forces Stage (Hip Hop/Funk/Soul/Breakbeats/

World)
5:00-5:35— Grainshifter
5:35-6:05—Eagle Rock Underground DJs
6:05-6:45—DJ J1
6:45-7:30— Blank Blue
7:30-8:15— Bambu
8:15-8:30— DJ J1
8:30-9:00— Akasha
9:00-9:15— Eagle Rock Underground DJs
9:15-10:00pm— Special Guest
10:00-10:15pm— Eagle Rock Underground DJs
10:15-11:00pm – Cava

————–

Have a great weekend LA Eastsiders!