The Stars are Upside Down

A reoccurring feature of this blog has been descriptions of how I manage to get to and from work. Well, things have once again changed. I leave work around 5:08 pm, after having loaded all 4 of my boss's dogs into his car. I walk across the parking lot to my company vehicle, a 1991 white ford aerostar van. It ain't much to look at, but it does provide me with an extra hour of sleep in the morning, as opposed to the subway and bus. I miss the public transit system often, but never between 6:40am and 7:40 am.

Once in my van I start it up, generally with out the key, as it's not necessary to start such a fine vehicle. I click the radio on, it's dialed into a.m. 1150, as that's the only station I listen to, on the way to or fro work. As I pop the un-keyed ignition into start the theme music to The Randi Rhodes Show begins to slink out of the one working speaker. I put it in reverse and begin to smile, cause I'm going home, and that is one fine feeling.

I work in the valley, as you may or may not know, and I live in West Hollywood. The Valley, for those of you fortunate enough to not have to know, is the San Fernando Valley, and it's separated from my lovely home in West Hollywood (weho from here on out) by what's called "the hill". I believe what "the hill" is actually and extension of the Santa Monica Mountains. "The Hill" is rather notorious for Los Angelenos, because it present a major obstacle in traveling from to and from certain parts of our major metropolitan area. It's generally considered that you can only get from The Valley to Hollywood, We Ho, or Beverly Hills by three ways, The 101 freeway through the Cahuenga Pass, Or through Laurel or Coldwater Canyon.

People of this opinion, especially if you are traveling between 4 and 7pm on weeknight, let me tell you, this kind of thinking is just plain wrong, it's incorrect, and it will get you nothing but gridlock and frustration.

I avoid all of those wrongful emotions daily, and claim for myself a few moments of LA escape, by heading south down vineland, all the way passed Ventura Blvd, and then turning right on wrightwood drive, which I follow all the way to the top of "the hill". When Wrightwood meets Mulholland, I trun left, and meander down that famous street, along the way passing the Universal City overlook, where some days I'll pull over and hop out, just to take a quick moment for me. I like to sit and gaze at the lights, which due to the manual manipulation of our measuring system called time, happen to be in full burning glory about the time I'm a top "the hill" during this season.

In looking at the lights it's pretty easy to see how the sea of lights could easily be mistaken for stars with the help of some smoke and mirrors. I miss the Western Kansas night time vistas. I really miss the feeling evoked by a sky completely filled with those glorious notions of things much more significant. Every star in that sky of my boyhood would continue with no thought to me at all, my role in the that grand scheme was impossible, and therefore comfortable.
From the top of Mulholland, the stars are all upside down, and I drove past many of them to get to the top of "the hill". I know in my mind that I can be significant to each one of those lights, I could force each to contend with me, if I were hell bent inclined. These man made imitations don't humble me in the way they should, individually, but together taken as one, as a sea of lights representing people multiplying and enforcing their whims and desire, without a great amount of thought being given to what might happen if we all got our way all at once. I get some vague feeling like the thing I just vaguely described, but I also feel an excitement, and a call to task.
I'll not delve all the way in here, but rest assured that it's important to me to participate in these moments for me.

After getting back in the van I meander further down Mullholand, until i hit Woodrow Wilson, where I again turn right, only to promptly turn left onto Nichols Canyon Road.

Here the street begins to resemble a quiet one way highway, which winds it's way down a hill that could be anywhere, and doesn't at all have to have the distinction of "the hill". I don't see the sea of lights very often from here. The AM radio station crackles, and sounds a bit warm. I often have the heater on. On rare occasion I'll even have a cigar, and think about my father, we used to smoke cigars together, though I have it on good authority that my sister has forced him to give up such simple pleasures. (good for you odd)
I love my drive home.
When I get down the hill I'm back on the streets we all know, and I'm generally home within 30 minutes. My way is faster, and it makes me happy.