After the rains— fluffy clouds
After the rains, I had a long dream, actually, more like consecutive scenes in a movie, and in every scene, I was riding a bike—riding a bike or dragging one up staircases, through doorways, down ramps. What could this mean? The next day I felt compelled to dust off the old bike, the one Tom had gotten a few years back as a X-mas present from ER.
(Actually, while Tom was working on ER they gave him lots of stuff...)
I stuffed the bike in the car and drove to the L.A. River, a few miles from my home. I knew the river had risen dramatically during the recent storms but I was shocked to see how much trash and debris were strewn everywhere.
It was hard to tell a white egret from a white plastic bag. (Note to self: Absolutely must remember recyclable grocery bags next time!).
A mile out I came upon a crew hired by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to clean up the trash. Sadly, they were also spraying an herbicide into the river to kill the Arundo, a false bamboo that's clogging up the waterways of Southern CA. This crew member said they were instructed to not spray "too much."
For the rest of the ride I enjoyed the wind and the clouds and the sheer joy of riding a bike! Still don't know what my dream meant. But I did notice an article in the LA Times by Hector Tobar the next day, about a guy named Jose Guzman. Guzman bikes everywhere and recently has gotten support from the "bike cooks," experts on everything biking. They give free workshops to those they call "invisible cyclists," people like Guzman who ride around town, not for exercise, but as a means to get to their jobs: the messengers, the day laborers, the cooks and carpenters. The classes are sponsored by the L.A. County Bicycle Coalition, an org that believes the future of transportation is in these riders. I might not have read about it if it weren't for my dream.
When you write a blog you often think, what would make it popular, what would make it sell? When I was in Beverly Hills yesterday I found myself looking into store windows to see what they were selling. I found a store that sold items made solely out of alligator skins. This green alligator golf bag I saw in the window goes for $35,000. I asked the proprietor, "Who can afford such things in the recession?" He gave me a nice pat on the back and showed me the door.