I’ll give you a tour for 30 cents. The Bridges of LA.

Me and my friend BusTard were going to Alcanzando La Historia (a tour of the 4th, 6th, and 1st Street Bridges) put on by the LA Conservancy, but then we found out it was thirty dollars.

And in order to get the tickets I had to go down to smug SCI-Arc where everyone uses hyphens and parentheses for no reason and then I just was like, well how about I just do my own tour.

And killjoy, I mean BusTard was like, I’m not even doing this.

Don’t get me wrong I like SCI-Arc they are perfectly arty and shit. I love them and their little “I think interior design should be pragmatic. I made this kitchen slash bathroom while on a sabbatical in Amsterdam. My parents are quite wealthy you know, though I look as though I don’t shower. That is all for dramatic effect. So in my kitchen slash bathroom you take a shit and then the shit is put through this cleanser made from formerly used naturally clean apple scented ‘i care more the earth than you, so i drive a prius’ dishwashing liquid (20 dollars at Trader Joes) and slowly excreted into a mini kitchen garden as fertilizer, which vegetables and fruit you clean using your own urine, sanitized of course in a completely eco manner. I call it Re (U)-S-E/Re (P)-O-O.”

Re(U)-S-E/Re(P)-O-O
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ROAD ASS!

Saw photo of this road sign in today’s L.A. Times. If this means; “WARNING, JACKASSES PRESENT!“, then I can think of a few areas around town that need one of these.

95 Out

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2219/2409100864_69c29309cb.jpg
When you live on the Eastside, the beach is never a hop, skip, and a jump away (at best, it’s a long bus ride down Lakewood Blvd. away). So, you find another way to get cool.

For my family, this involves a short walk to Salt Lake Park. Today, after picking up some tostadas de camarón at Ceviche Loco, my mom lounged under palm trees while it was 95 degrees in L.A. I watched the Second Annual Salt Lake Park Skate Contest. And throughout, the soccer players played.
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Two Fundraisers

I’ve seen more than a few fundraisers in my day but never one featuring grilled chicken. These kids were happily yelling out “Pollo Asado!” to cars, trying to raise some money for their local church. The most common type of fundraiser is the car wash, and it’s often associated with tragedy. Click ahead for an example.

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ALARMA!

Desensitizing you to violence since 1963So I jump off the bus and navigate the busy Eastside sidewalk, deftly dodging the various Vátos, Viéjas, and random Nácos. Suddenly, I struggle to hold back a violent impulse to gag. At a corner news stand I am suddenly eye-level with a magazine cover showing a decapitated human head with it’s skin brutally scraped off. I recognize the screaming yellow logo on the publication as the one that has haunted me ever since I was a little Pee-Pee Pants Cabrón. Immediately, I shift my gaze to the other magazines, spying various layouts of “Chicas con Grandes Nalgas” in an attempt to wash away that ghastly image of yet another victim of Mexican Narco-Satanicos! Continue reading

Perspectives

What is this?

a.) A broken cross walk button, yet another example of the lousy services certain parts of the city receive?

b.) The creativity of people that learn to make do, shown here by making the wires available to the approaching pedestrian?

c.) Dude, that’s just some broken stuff, wtf?

d.) All of the above.

Just as there is multiple ways this picture can be described, our understanding of Los Angeles is also shaped by the subjectivity of the person doing the interpreting. But you all know that. (For the record, this improvised ‘button’ does work.)

The Beautiful and Ugly Los Angeles: Ralph Lazo

In America people like to pretend that certain things didn’t happen and they like to try to encourage you to go with that program by getting super pissed at you for bringing up “negative” memories from the past. I guess for some people facts become being pessimistic when it makes other people look like total assholes. You know the genocide of the Native American population, slavery, the Bracero Program, the list goes and on and, but today we’re going to talk about the internment of Japanese-Americans.
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Cutting Across The Eastside

A few evenings a week, I struggle with how to criss cross the Eastside without getting caught in a ton of traffic.  I’m generally talking about the north-south part of any trip that requires me to get from Rosemead to Bell or Highland Park to Bell.  If it’s around 5 p.m., there’s a 100% chance I’m going to be stuck on roads sometimes less taken (yes, I’m talking to you Soto St. all the way down to the backside of the Farmer John plant and down Boyle St. and Garfield Ave. down to Slauson Blvd. to Florence Ave. and Eastern Blvd. past the cemetery to Telegraph Rd. to the five-point intersection from hell at Atlantic Blvd).  Freeway, street, off-road trail–it doesn’t matter.  If I’m on it, it’s going to be slow. 

All this leads me to a question perhaps appropriate for a blog dedicated to the Eastside–is there an easy way to cut across the Eastside or is just designed to be a long, slow ride designed to be enjoyed when you think you have better things to do?

And for our more practically-inclined readers, suggestions for the best way to get across the Eastside are also greatly appreciated.

 

L.A. VS WAR: The Revolution Has Begun!

la vs war front

Salutations, LA Eastside readers!

LA VS WAR begins tomorrow and its a great way to unite all kinds of Angelinos(though eastsiders will have a shorter commute).

Sure, some of this will be like preaching to choir but hopefully some new folkalinos will be inspired. Bring your kids, your abuelitos, tus primos, or just yourself. Its gonna be good timers!

Here’s the most current event info:
DATES and TIMES:
THURSDAY APRIL 10TH – SUNDAY APRIL 13TH, 2008 | NOON-11PM
LOCATION:
THE FIREHOUSE
710 S. SANTA FE AVENUE
DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, CA 90021

ALL AGES | FREE!

NOW IS THE TIME FOR YOU TO JOIN THE REVOLUTION.

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L.A. Rights

Obviously throughout bloglandia the debate of where is the real Eastside and Westside has raged and I believe that Militant Angeleno’s proposal is the best so far, so that ends that debate as far as I’m concerned.

The other day my home boy told me a story that made me scratch my head, laugh and wonder: ‘Is this a new front on the culture wars?’

He told me about how he ‘checked’ two of his homies for claiming L.A. when both of them are from the Valley.

My homie said, “You need to be born and raised in the city limits of L.A. to claim L.A. while traveling in Southern California. When you travel outside, you can claim L.A. because most people aren’t gonna know what a Reseda or North Hollywood is. There is a persona and image of what LA is, Palmdale, Inglewood nor Beverly Hills are L.A. We work hard to make that image and don’t want peeps claiming what itsn’t theirs” 

WOW, I know I got some L.A. pride but I never heard it like this!

Made me wonder about it. Yes my friends from the Valley or Inland Empire or even San Gabriel have no clue about the heart of L.A. with its gleaming buildings and skid row funk right next to each other. They have a strip mall view and we got something else. For them parking is a given when running an errand. 

I have friends who moved here and have lived here for 15 plus years, but they have never traveled more than 5 miles from where they live. They have lived in L.A., but don’t knowL.A.

I think you have to know the ‘center’ of L.A. and all outline areas to really get the flavor of what most people in general consider L.A. no matter how long you lived here if you don’t go all over the area you won’t understand what L.A. really is.

You need to know: Downtown (The Alley, Little Tokyo, Chinatown, Olvera St., Financial District, Metro), the USC area, South L.A.’s history and changes, Pico Union, McArthur Park, Hancock Park, what is on Fairfax and Melrose, Inglewood (gotta know how to get to LAX without the freeway), the Westside, the beaches (Redondo to Pt. Dune), the Valley (all of it), all the Hollywoods (N, E, W, and their differences), Pasadena (old and South and plain), San Gabriel Valley (it’s big), Pico Rivera, Whittier, Montebello, a lil bit of the north OC like La Habra and Seal Beach, South Gate, Huntington Park, Bell, and of course the nooks and crannies of our beloved Eastside. You need to know El Mercadito, El Oyo, the views from Flat Tops, Elysian Pk., and Mt. Washington, (a few good taco trucks, panaderias, a spot for menudo, birria, and great chilaquiles).

All of these areas have there own flavor and funk. There are some overlapping similarities but there are small attitudinal differences that if you lived in LA long enough and got around to these areas, you would know.

So what do you think? Are we over thinking this?

I guess this is native born conversation. We know we aren’t the plastic people from some far away state that came here to be a star and thus play into the plastic life image that the whole of LA is saddled with.

 

 

 

 

 

Reasons I love the Eastside- #1 The Montebello 40 Bus Line

Montebello 40 Bus Stop on 4th and Gless

Across the street from my art studio in Boyle Height there’s the nicest bus stop ever. It’s not a MTA bus stop, because nothing nice is connected to the MTA (at least in the neighborhoods that are not gentrified yet, since I’m around family here I’ll just say the neighborhoods that are black and brown, ever notice how PC in the negative way only means, “why can’t I make fun of the ethnic people, with the ‘funny’ names and ‘funny’ way of doing things,” but if you’re not PC in regards to rich middle-aged white guys you’re accused of being overly sensitive or a reverse racist…so weird, must be nice to be a middle aged rich white guy.)

The Montebello 40 is rad, not just because it has a clean bus and bus stop (I know the City of LA takes care of bus stops, but if Metro had a bit of pride, they would make a bit of an effort in making sure that property with their name looked decent.) Not just because it actually follows a schedule. Not just because I can get on the Montebello 40, buy a transfer (total $1.15) and end up paying less than I would for a one way fare on the MTA ($1.25,) but because the people on the bus are rad. And they talk to you, not the “I don’t have a place to live,” mumbling crazy talk, but normal talk.

The bus drivers remember you and not only that, they spot you. I remember once I couldn’t find an ATM and the bus driver said, “You got a pretty funky hat there, so you can get on.”

That would never happen on the MTA, keep in mind where I pick up the 40 is across the street from I guess from what I’ve heard from some was one of the most violent and largest projects in America, the Pico Gardens projects, but times have changed. I can’t even tell that it used to be a project. Now it’s a mixed income development and no one comes out of there but nice family with little kids that wave at you, but what I’m saying this isn’t a wealthy neighborhood. This is a working and middle class neighborhood so it’s not that people won’t keep things nice if they are not filthy rich it’s just most government agencies don’t make an effort to keep things up if people aren’t filthy rich and writing 5000 letters a week and that’s a damn shame.

The people in Boyle Heights have a lot of pride in their neighborhood, but they don’t do that hipster bullshit. In Boyle Heights if you’re not an asshole, they are completely cool with you. I haven’t had one, “I was here since 1990 and you don’t know blah, blah, blah…” stories, not one. I heard those kind of dumbass stories all of the time in Silver Lake, from people who moved there from Van Nuys (but lied and said they were from Encino, like that was better) five seconds ago.

I’ve had nothing but love from the people of Boyle Heights.

And it’s not just the drivers or the bus stop, it’s the other passengers when I’m on my way somewhere and I’ll see Marie, Veronica, or Shirley from the 40, they’re always happy to see me. They tell how great of a future I’m going to have. It’s like running into old friends, not old friends from high school, because my friends in high school were total bitches.

The Montebello bus line is one of the reasons I love the Eastside.

by
Browne Molyneux