Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Nobody Eats in LA
I love the liveliness of Echo Park. I walk and wait for Emily to call. On the left side of a convenient store, a robot shakes hands with a caveman. On the right, a keyboard typing by itself rests on a desk. My curious feet have taken me into this store to grab a pack of gum. I gaze to a slushy machine with a sign that reads "Out of Order Come Back Yesterday", past the poster with facial hair styles throughout history, to the green walls of the studio with kids being tutored. The sign above the clerk reads "Time Travel Mart." The products are a bit off. I stumbled into 826LA. Excitedly, I looked around snapping shots to show my Boston 826 colleagues. Loz Feliz and beyond, this place has character.
Its a glass noodle that drips over the edge of my mouth. I catch it with my tongue before Emily sees. I worked up an appetite watching her 19-piece-jazz band perform during their practice. We are at Toi in Los Angeles. The walls dance with music paraphernalia while they appropriately play The Fall. Its two in the morning and the Thai food is still freshly served. A mechanical dragon stretches his neck over my head. Another bite of brown rice looms toward me. I've never tasted fried brown rice. Not only does it taste of sesame oil, but there are bits of sesame seeds in it: that pop and get stuck in between my teeth.