I'm driving my city streets. Visiting old neighborhoods. The Past. The Future. A building, branching, exploring the new, next to the known. It's great to be visiting these places. The neighborhoods change while staying the same. I'm different and the same too.
I've missed living in my city.
Franklin to Hyperion to Atwater. Shakespeare Bridge. The secret backroads have turned into bicycle share streets. I put my top down, breathe the air and play loud music. The bridges, the hills. I've missed this commute. I've missed the east side - despite it's hipster gentrification. I remember the dreams I had over here. I remember living in the Future with Gloria. (The Future was a house on Future street.) A Future in the past.
A party a few weeks ago took me back to the Future neighborhood. It was 3 blocks away. I almost wanted to visit it, walk up the hill to three stumps, the old dog walk route. But I've got a new future unfurling each present moment these days.
From one meeting to another I navigate the web of freeways. The 134 to the 2 to the 5 to the 10. Speeding further east. I weave between cars and take exit only off ramps that lead to no exit; but to another freeway. Each road leading to another, and another, and eventually the roads lead home.
Back in the glitter and grit of Hollywood, I drive Sunset Blvd. My life is a dream. A reality of my creation - sustained. Well-worn grooves: Fountain, La Cienga, Sunset, Santa Monica, La Brea, Melrose, Highland. My tires on these roads, my hand on the stick shift, breathing the air, the power in this place. Power I refine and return in abundant multi-fold.