heathervescent

Payments and the Sharing Economy

Last week I was honored to give the keynote at Tomorrow's Transactions on Payments and the Sharing Economy. 

I spoke about my experiences as a Los Angeles AirBnB host, focusing on the emotional experience of the transaction and back end payment features. I shared my experience creating regulations allowing AirBnB style rentals in my Mojave Desert Community of 29 Palms. For 8 months, a team of 15 active citizens and members of the 29 Palms Planning Commission discussed and debated community concerns and crafted a set of regulations. ** Audio available on request (use contact email on contact page)

• How do payments and the Sharing economy interact?
• What is the difference between the sharing and utilization economy?
• Case Study: AirBnB Host Experience (payments, records, taxes)
• Case Study: Regulations for the Sharing Economy in 29 Palms, California 
• What can we expect in the future of the Sharing Economy?
• What are business opportunities?
• What can we expect for the future?

Thanks to Dave Birch and Gloria Benson for inviting me to keynote at Tomorrow's Transactions last week in London. 

Interested in more? I can help you

• Learn about the future, based on what's happening today.
• Bring your teams together to discover unusual solutions.
• Create your custom forecast with strategies to create your future.
• Build prototypes of your future ideas - and share the visions with the world (or keep them secret if you prefer)

Payments and the Sharing Economy from Heather Schlegel (aka heathervescent)

Jacaranda Phase Shift

Nine years ago I took a chance. I followed my heart. I packed my things in my car. I stopped for one last coffee at my favorite cafe and I drove south. To dream a new dream. It's the time of year I remember that journey. I remember the start of the adventure. I remember trusting myself following the whisper of a dream. The destination opening a whole new playing field - my most beloved city, full of adventure and possibilities.

So much has happened. Many adventures. I've created, lived the life I wanted. I still do. 

I've been thinking a lot about the way I was at that time. The trust I had in the universe. The trust I had in myself. To take off in a direction, because that's where I felt the pull, because that's where the path with heart lead. Despite my logical brain saying, "that's crazy." Despite knowing where things would lead, where I would go, who I could become. Trusting strongly. Dreaming Big. Fishing for David Lynch's transcendental big fish.

It's phase shift time. A magical moment in my year where the realization of my dreams are closer to the surface. An invocation, an homage, a tribute to that day: Phase shift June 6. 

 

Living in the City

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. 

Dolphins

This morning I had to run a long delayed errand out in Venice. It was a great excuse to put the convertible down and enjoy the beautiful LA weather. Since I was out there, I called up a great friend and we walked down to the beach for coffee. 

We're catching up, sharing dreams for the coming year while sitting just beyond the hide tide mark watching the ocean. Directly in front of us, I notice dolphins among the waves. We watch them jumping into the air, high jumps, low jumps. Soon pelicans flock to the same spot - pausing and diving into the water. We speculate they must be feeding. We watch the dolphins. They stay in our view for 30 minutes or more. It's a fantastic sight. Inspiring. After a particularly spectacular series of jumps I exclaim, pointing to the dolphins, "I want my year to be exactly like that!"

I'm less inclined to create a laundry list of goals and achievements and blah for 2013. Bring magic. Bring synchronicity. Bring joy. Bring happiness. Bring adventure. Bring awe-some projects. Bring renewal. Bring abundance. Bring balance and a bit more stability (but not too much!).

Inspired by this morning's show, I invoke you, Dolphin, to be my power animal for 2013.

Mist in the Night

It's a Northwest day. We don't have many of these in Los Angeles. They are nice. Misting all night, maybe a light pitter patter. The sidewalks show their many shades of grey. The sky reflects these like a mirror. 

Moisture makes the pavement absorb what light filters through the mist. I zip through Hollywood traffic to the Valley, returning back via Laurel Canyon. As I'm driving home through these iconic hills, I watch my speed. It's new asphalt, black and gleaming and just aches for dancing up the gears. But I know the cops watch this, so I keep it purring softly. I glide through the turns, pairs of white lights snaking down the other side. 

I crest the top and we coast into the valley, mist rising out of the darkness. 

I can't help but think, this is the city I love. These dark, misty nights, streets black with moisture, my hand on the stick, safe in the grid.

Cool Night

I've spent the day cooking. The house smells like simmering black bean chili. Spicy. Warm. The dog is sticking close to me, giving me his doggy eyes. None for you tonight little beggar. 

I made the decision to cheer the fuck up today. Enough of the doom and gloom and anger and frustration and going over the unfairness of it all in my mind. Hey - I don't live in those realities anymore. That's the past, biotches. Let it go. Never have to interact with those people again, so quit going back.

It got pretty bad. (I'm sure it will get bad again.) It didn't help that I got the triple, 1-2-3 punch. All while shifting my stability to a new paradigm. I wanted to finish my commitment, then disengage to heal the massive trauma I had sustained. Only that was when the biggest blow was delivered. Yeah, it took the heathervescent down. Down into some really dark places. It's a miracle I'm here. In some realities, I am no longer experiencing time/space. I had completed all I was to do. But that is not this one. Blood remains flowing in my veins.

You know what world, don't make me go through that fucking shit again - at least not without an army behind me. OK? Got it? I'll do a lot of crappy work, and I'll persevere, but don't put me in a situation were so called allies stab me in the fucking back and sabotage my work, ok. And while I'm dictating to you the future I will no longer tolerate - no bullshit politics either. I know you're eating their souls for dinner, but you know, I'd really prefer to not interact with them. Life is too short to weigh myself down. We got a lot to do here and I'm not the one staying home watching Roku looking for a comfortable life. Strengths Finder remember. I'm here to kick ass. Not play political games and live a comfortable life.

But enough about that. I was really writing to you, to tell you of the sight in the sky.

Mr Dog and I went out for the evening walk. It's winter in Los Angeles. Cool. Means I have to wear a jacket. The air is moist - cool like the marine layer. Overcast sky, just a few clouds twinkling through. 

The full moon rises through the illuminated slate grey sky. I love a full misty Los Angeles Moon. Silhouetted Palm Trees. A slight breeze. Twinkling. I made out a moving grey image in the sky. A slight flashing. It was the blimp. It floated like a gentle beast in the air. Grey on grey illuminated by misted moonlight. Helicopters flashed their red and white lights; complimenting the stars that poked through the night clouds. 

There are others walking at night. I am one of them. One of many living in this city of dreams. Breathing in this air. Walking these streets. I need no validation to be here. This is my city. We feed each other. We are one exploring this reality, what could be and what will never become.

On these misty nights, I am reminded of the veil of this city. It you are loyal or even if you are lucky, you will see through the veil, the ocean mist, the overcast moonlit night - and you will see dreams. And if you are skilled, you can pull that dream possibility back with you, as you walk along the street with your dog, and you can make it real.

The Stars My Destination

"I took. I went and took. What did I leave in return? My change."

Tornado powered me 15 thousand miles. Across the great plains into the concrete jungles of New York. Across the North Atlantic to European countryside with fields, cows and wind power windmills. Skirting the edge of Europe and Africa before traversing the Atlantic once more, to the Southern Hemisphere to a favorite dream land. 

In darkness I landed. I remembered my first (terrified) time in this airport almost 20 years earlier. Different this time. No fear walking the Copacabana midnight streets. In Rio the tornado changed, shifted, transformed. A phoenix rose from the tornado calm: a blue stone wrapped in silver gold, etched with a symbol. Symbols.

The tornado powered me once more; from the South American Atlantic to the Pacific. Walking the streets of Lima with a friend, a one who is unlike any other, crystallized the fate of the tornado. Transformation, but not death. A symbol, for one and many, appeared in the calm center.

It's this symbol I returned with to Los Angeles. A symbol Los Angeles is most know for. Full circle perfection. 

Cutting the Line

I had a new experience in rudeness last night as I waited in the popcorn line at the New Beverly Theater. It was a David Lynch double feature: Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive. I was looking forward to a respite after the emotionally taxing (and ongoing) move.

I was cranky. My place was a mess with boxes, my new home office (kitchen style) was bare bones. I had spent the morning running around getting my Brazilian Visa. My internet was giving me dial-up speeds. The dog was upset and being bratty. Work wasn't pulling any punches either. At least I had another 2 weeks in LA before the mother of all travels. All I wanted to do is stare at a screen at a more surreal Los Angeles than the one I live in/created.

The popcorn line is around the corner into the theater. We go get our seats and ponder getting in it. It's not getting any shorter. Finally, I say I'll do it, weave my way through the seats to the line. I'm in no mood to talk to anyone. I want the damn popcorn and red vines and that's it. I didn't come to a movie theater to be social. 

So as noted before, the popcorn line is quite long. Anyone who sees it, understands that's the situation. You don't want to wait in line, don't wait in line! As I walk up to join the end, a large woman walks into the theater. Her arms are full of snacks and two bottles of coconut water. She questions everyone, are you the end of the line? are you the end of the line? Well, I was the end of the line. At which point, she asks/declares/demands in no uncertain terms that I hold her a spot in line behind me while she goes to get her seat. I tell her that I disagree and that I will not do that. That if she wants to get in line, get in line now or come back and take your chances. She insists that I hold her spot. I tell her in no uncertain terms I will not do that, but I will convey her request to the people that get in line behind me and they can decide. 

After five minutes or so (the line is moving s.l.o.w.) she returns and demands her spot. There are now 5 people behind me. During her 5 minute absence I have communicated the situation to the guy behind me. As he is a nice person, he allows her to get in line. She is not in it more than 1 minute before asking him to save her spot while she does something (I did not hear her reason). She leaves the line (again!) and does not return until she is the 3rd person in line (another 10 minutes or more). 

W.T.F. woman?!

You've just taken the prize for the rudest person I've had the pleasure of encountering in this city!

 

Shouting at the Childless

I was at my favorite bakery a few weeks ago. My European travels gave me a hankering for fresh croissants back at home and I knew just the place. I was up early - thanks again to the jetlag - so pup and I piled in the car - a quick stop before a Hollywood hike.

I knew exactly what I wanted. A latte and a croissant. Simple. My typical European breakfast. When I opened the bakery door, it was children chaos and cacophony. Overwhelmed mom in front of me with two misbehaving kids running around causing all havoc and hell. I waited patiently. I was in no hurry. Fully present, thankful I was not the mom of two misbehaving children. Asking the counter attendant question after question about which pastry had which filling. Unable to remember any answer. Frazzeled she was. I shifted slightly and a strange type of calm settled over me. (Or perhaps I settled into a strange type of calm amidst the storm.) I was amused watching the scene. Detached. Knowing soon I would be pulled into the clusterfuck. Despite mom's vacillation, another person came to take my order, and that's when I was sucked in. (O Calm Center of the Tornado can not hold for Long. A Ying/Yang / I <3 Huckabees red ball head bashing moment of sublimity.)

It was like in a dream; you are speaking, the words go through molasses before they reach the other person's ear, letters jumbled up in the hearing no matter how much enunciation. It was the interference of the childrens cacophony. They distracted all, but me. As I intended my order they twisted and misunderstood in the most sublime telephone game way. Through the cacophony, I remained calm - I take no pleasure in this momentary ability to remain in the eye of the storm - I work hard to sustain it when I am lucky enough to find it.

Childrens strollers were strewed throughout the aisle. When I got to the register, to my dismay, my order was incorrect! My amusement rose at the level of sheer fucked-up-ness occurring. Me to blame for the misunderstood order! Me to blame for no place to stand because of the cacophony of children and unaware parents. Me to blame because the food has to get out and I am in their way (not the two strollers or multitudes of running children and parents lost in their keeing up with the jones conversations). Losing it to the only adult waiting patiently consciously (and with judgement only after the fact) for their latte and croissant!  Register person screwing up the order one final time just for good measure!

O.M.F.G. It was like the Bermuda Triangle of Bakery experiences. I had to get out of there.

Sometimes that happens. The person with extra mental bandwidth becomes the target. Amusing it can be, just don't get sucked in.

NorCal vs SoCal

Anyone who's lived in the Bay Area for a significant amount of time has come across the huge (one-sided) NorCal-SoCal rivalry.

From the San Francisco Bay Area perspective, Los Angeles is the ground zero of shallow consumerism - fake fake fake. People. Boobs. Personality. And the traffic?!?! We all know how horribly polluting cars are, those horrible horrible Los Angeles people - don't they know what they are doing to the earth? (This was before the Prius.) NorCal would expound on how much more aware they were, more evolved, aware, of the earth, good food, real sustainable businesses. There was no fakeness here in NorCal! We reveled in our "coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco" foggy summers. Fuck the tourists expecting typical California (SoCal) sunny beaches. Bwahahah - go buy those sweatshirts to stay warm! Oozing with self-importance. Oozing with I am better than you.

From the SoCal side, the rivalry is .... *poof* what rivalry? Yeah, some people up there have a chip on their shoulder, but that's their issue. It's great down here. Great weather, lots of space and so much going on! Yeah, people think Hollywood's the big industry here, but there's so much more.

The NorCal SoCal rivalry was one-sided. I stopped caring about the haters up north and instead set about to make my dreams come true.

Regardless of where you live that's good advice. Stop caring about the haters and make your dreams come true.

Domestic Meditation

The morning is cool. I'm up early. Finished the coffee challenge (a variation of the kitchen challenge - where the kitchen and sometimes the laundry or other cleaning errand - is clean/prepped/done by the time I finish fixing my coffee).

Kettle onto boil. Prep the mug, melita filter, Peet's Major Dickenson, half n half, a spoonful of powered chocolate (Belgium is influencing me), sugar. The stove clicks and then the gas is lit. I take the sponge, I wash the two pots, one knife in the sink. Pick up the empty wine glass on the coffee table. The dog snuggles into the blanket on the sofa. A cool breeze comes in from the open kitchen window. One ear on the kettle, I pop into the laundry nook. Checking on the air-dry items, putting the next load into the dryer. The timer. I push the button. Back in the kitchen, I can hear the kettle gaining energy, but it's still got some time to go. I start a few hand wash items, get them started in the kitchen. The kettle starts making the pre-boil noise. I pull it off and begin decanting my morning liquid. As it seeps through the filter, I run the hand washables through the double rinse. Blot them dry on a towel so they don't drip and hang them in the laundry nook with the other air dryables. Meanwhile the water has turned to coffee. I doctor it with half and half, sugar, stir in the chocolate, a liberal dash of cinnamon. I mentally start making a grocery store list. I've used the last of my coffee. My hands are warm from the hot water, from the coffee cup, moist with the hand washables.

I miss these domestic mornings with the cool breeze of Los Angeles. Possibilities of the day, before heading to my office, my computers, my devices, the internet, the world, the global now.

Snapshots of Home

I cracked the largest grin of my trip when I saw the Virgin Atlantic flight sign showing destination: Los Angeles. LAX. What have I become? This trip convinced me, that while the world is a grand and interesting place, I live in the best place in the world. I don't want to move to Austin, or Portland, become an expat or become a global nomad. Right here in West Hollywood. Dreams are created and realized. 

--

It's the smell of LAX: jetfuel and airplane exhaust. I've told my seatmate, a Brit who is coming for a Hollywood gig, "In LA, anything can happen. Your dreams can come true. That's what's amazing about this place. You _can_ stay," I say to his desire to find more work after his short-term gig, "but the trick is give yourself no option to go back." It's step 4, Burn Your Ships.  He's off on an amazing adventure to explore the City of Angeles. I am excited for him.

--

Up, early morning. Everything is quiet. The dog, the boyf are asleep. I take the truck and drive the city streets. In search of half and half and breakfast provisions. I step outside. The air is chilly. But there's an undertone of warmth. Then I breathe deep. It hits me, the messages traveling my nervous system from my nostrils, lungs to my brain, exploding into meaning. The smell of Los Angeles. Moisture. Cool. Undertone of desert heat. The edge of possibilities. 

Sun rising upon the Hollywood Hills. 

--

So many choices. The aisles are stacked with boxes, products being unloaded. I admired the branding, the perforations to unpackage individual packaged entrees. I had never thought about the wholesale and shipping side. I see the choice. Such variety. I think, this is an upside of the free market. Such selection. It's kind of amazing.

I get into a conversation with a shop stocker. He talks to me in Spanish, I hesitate and reply. My brain is a scramble with languages. I realize I'm much more comfortable speaking bad Spanish than French. 

I come across a display of Avocados. It's like I've found the city of gold. I restrain myself from kneeling in worship to selecting a few for breakfast. Then there are strawberries from Salinas, I imagine the fields, rows of short green clumps up north. I know I'm romanticizing, but what can you expect? I'm an unapologetic Angelino.

I am so happy to be home. I've missed my city.

Reflections on the Concrete Jungle

New York got to me. 

 

In past trips, she coaxed me with beckoning caresses, this trip she dug in her nails. Biting cold, wind whipping through the urban canyons. I opened my coat and let that cold wind pierce my heart, remembering cold January's in the early 90s. I found no solace in people. None in work. I felt I had lost my path with heart. And in heathervescent land, there's only one thing to do when that happens...

Returning to Los Angeles, brisk wind blowing through her, I was thankful for my new found NY clothing. At first moment, I took Lady Vescent on a long embrace. I was interested if I had grown rusty with almost two weeks of subway traveling. But I was sharp as a knife. Threading the needle at 90 through city streets and favorite freeways. The speed, she heals my soul. 

I needed to push my boundaries. I wanted to kiss the edge, go beyond it, etch a remembrance of my tires in the pavement. I went to the wildest place close to Los Angeles: not Latigo, Piuma or the Malibu hills "racetrack", but the raw mountains of San Gabriel, Big Tujunga and Mt Wilson. 

Lost, and found.

Lady V and I weave out of Hollywood, through the San Fernando Valley and I finally hit the triple digits on the 2 north of Glendale. Racing up a mountain, top down, wind blowing, white knuckle riding, conversing with my city. I decelerate quickly, pause at the stop sign and head north into the mountains. The stop is as critical as the acceleration. There can be no speeding without being stuck behind the slow car, no acceleration without the stop. 

I feast my eyes on the scenery as I pass the 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000 elevation markers. It's getting colder, I'm glad for my heated seats. The road is moist, rockfall peppers the pavement. We're above the clouds, a road twisting between the mountains. 

I reach the top, view shrouded in fog. There is no Los Angeles overlook today. But that's ok, because I know what my city looks like. I didn't come for the views today, I came for the roads. And off we are again. Painting the double yellow through a burned forest. 

Sharing the road with a few sightseers, motorcyclists and locals. I came to the roadhouse, a row of motorcycles parked outside. Lunch stop perfection. Body refued before pressing forward. With the intention of getting lost in the mountains. Easier with no cell reception. I sped again on roads, tracked and backtracked, turned off and turned off again. The mountains eventually changing, until I realized I was entering the desert. 

Such was my delight! Lost in the mountains only to find the desert. Look at those wide open spaces! 

The afternoon waned and I felt responsibilities calling. My heart rejuvenated, I returned to the mountain roads, pushing faster spurred on with favorite songs, winding my way onto the freeway system: 210, 118, 5, 170 into there's no place like Hollywood Home. 

Home again, home again. 

Continued Awe

Six years ago, I perched upon the edge of the LA Times Building for this (cover) photo.

I was in love with Los Angeles. (I still am.)

I am in awe at the world. At the wind in the air. The palm tree lined streets. The feeling of my clutch stick in my leather gloves. The french silk sky with ribbons of pink carmel. (read more)

Six years later, I know her curves well, love her no less. Driving down Olympic, the top down (in my second Saab convertible) playing a favorite mashup, I am struck with strong emotion. With the conversations we have as I shift up and down the gears, switching lanes. Wordless expressions. Rubber on grooved concrete. My every glance seems to end at the Hollywood sign, up in those hills me and Mr Pup explore. I think about that Red Hot Chili Pepper's song...

Sometimes I feel
Like I don't have a partner
Sometimes I feel
Like my only friend
Is the city I live in
The city of Angels
Lonely as I am
Together we cry

I drive on her streets
'Cause she's my companion
I walk through her hills
'Cause she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds and
She kisses me windy and
I never worry
Now that is a lie

It's as if my city is the only thing I can love with my full expression. Of course, she can not deny me. Or maybe it's a homecoming, return to the place of my birth after so many years of exodus. Or maybe it's because here in this city, where the wind blows in hot and cold from the Mojave desert showing the sparkle of the San Gabriels, we live on the edge. We create the edge. It's here we can pluck the possibilities from the unknown, from the edge of nothing, and yet maintain a connection to manifest, create, build these things plucked. Audacious possibilities from an audacious unknown. Movie magic, inspired by and inspiring scientific efforts.

Los Angeles, I love you like no other place or person. An abstract affection for a place, an idea, a concept, the possibilities here and the reality of making it real. You are me and I am you, inspired co-creators of this mega-city on the western edge of North America. 

Writers Meet

It's early dark, the sun set hours ago. I'm driving east to meet a friend, the first woman I met in Los Angeles. Hard to believe that was so many years ago. I remember staying in her house and the mutual inspiration, the years of adventures we later had in the Future (the name we affectionately called the house we bought together).

We had been trying to meet up for several months, but our travel schedules were opposite. Finally, for one day between trips, we found ourselves in our same city. We met at a natural cuisine restaurant on Hillhurst. I don't make it much outside my West Hollywood borders these days and I forgot how much I love this street with it's restaurants (many new ones!) and boutique shops. I've got to get over there more often.

So here I was, back with my Future pardner and we're catching up and talking about our writing projects. I tell her about my films, she about her hard-boiled screenplay and book. We're talking about the writer's craft, and I ask her, if her characters have taken on a life of their own. Oh yes she replies, telling me her characters are very different from the way she initially envisioned them. Surprising to her and also challenging. 

I experienced this with my recent screenplay stories. The characters I envisioned at the onset, change as I bring them into this reality through these letters, words. As Steven Pressfield would say, it's the muse talking through my fingers. These stories are not mine, but use me to express themselves, to manifest - often out of the collective unconsciousness.

The best advice given to her, "Write ferociously."

Respect for Modern Farming

This summer I've been exercising my gardening muscles after I got a small space in the new West Hollywood community garden. I had been doing active container gardening for several years, trying out some vertical gardening ideas - with varied success. Flowers, ornamental and herbs did well, but my attempts at growing food never thrived or attracted pests. So when my number (literally) came up in the new garden lottery, I accepted it with excitement.

It took a lot of work to prepare the soil. (The garden area used to be an old lot so the soil was not that great.) Then I planted the seeds, watered them diligently, daily. I watched them sprout, tender and fragile, until they grew stronger, maturing. Often after I finished watering the garden, I'd stop by the grocery store and pick up things for dinner.  The irony was not lost on me. After months of diligent tending, I was finally able to harvest some of the fruits of my labor. 

Like my container garden attempts, some items thrived in the SoCal summer better than others. This coupled with a harvest screw-up made some items inedible. After the months of nurturing this was a tragedy. Still, I had more than enough chard, peppers, tomatoes, and basil (had I not let it go to seed). The sunflowers grew tall with their happy yellow faces. 

Of course we ate what we grew - but there's no way we could have lived on what the garden produced. Yet, at the same time, we had more than enough of some things. This gave me new respect for high yield seeds and professional farmers. Those farms that focus on growing amazing, lush foods for us to eat. (I am probably more spoiled than most, living in Los Angeles with the fertile San Joaquin Valley a few hours away.)

I thought, who are these people that want to go back to the old way - of tough small harvests. Science and technology has made life easier - life more productive (both for plants, animals and humans). Why throw these discoveries away or worse, ignore them. They give us the ability to focus on finer grain issues in the world. 

Single Hawk, Murder of Crows

A few days ago, Mr Dog and I came across a murder of crows. I counted over 30 in the lawn and branches of two trees. I stopped to observe and wonder where they had come from and why were they all gathered there. Mr. Dog was more interested in the squirrel in the tree and I watched as he scampered around a tree filled with crows. 

Then there was a commotion and the crows took flight. My eyes caught a bit of brown, different wing shape among the dark flying birds. I remembered the neighborhood hawk. Could s/he be here among the crows? My eyes scanned the tree branches, and yes! there! I saw her mottled brown. Boy did she look beautiful. Feathers were shiny. Well fed. Not a scrawny hawk here. 

But what was going on with this murder of crows? Some wildlife drama was being played out.

In my brief observation of the scene, I saw several bursts of flights. I watched the hawk go after a crow like a fighter pilot shooting it's target. I saw the crows dive bomb the hawk. And finally they would all resettle, crows in trees on the grass, the hawk in a nearby tree, devoid of crows.

When I lived in rural america I didn't watch these scenes play out so clearly in my forested backyard. But here, in West Hollywood, I've got a front row seat each morning.

 

Movie Making: The Ultimate Influence

I leaned across the cashier counter where I usually pick up my favorite pineapple fried rice; but today is different. No thai is being cooked up in the kitchen. A table where I usually enjoy the best panag curry in LA had been transformed with white table cloths, crystal and china. Surrounding the scene is an array of vision capture mechanism: actors, cameras, sound operators. And others, those who would take a vision from my mind one night in November and bring it to the screen.

I remember that night. Sitting here at my computer. Darkness surrounding me, sirens sounding in the streets, Steely Dan and Stereolab coming through the speakers. Immersed in my research results, papers strewn over my desk. Sitting back in my chair and rolling the results in my mind. How would this data become the future? What do I see - what do I want to see? I wrote these two paragraphs. It was a story, a vision: realistic, based on possible technology and a positive outlook on the future.

Watching from my vantage in the back, I took in the scene. The actors at the table, the lights, the sound equipment and boom operator, the camera, DP, Director, 1st AD, extras in the back and all the crew. Everyone here at my request - to take a vision from my mind that night, and bring it to the world.

A positive vision of the future.

During a break later, the sound guy came up to me and asked, "When are we going to have this?! I always have this problem when I go out to dinner with my friends (10+ people) at conferences. Even if we all have cash, it's still a hassle because no one has change."

Exactly. This future is coming. I don't know how long it will take to get here, but it's what the people want, and there's a LOT of money businesses and banks can make, if they'll just embrace it.

* photo by Anna Metcalf

Swiss Chard Connection

Once a day I pop over to the community garden to water my plants. It's been open for only two months, so we're all just starting our gardens. I'm planting things I haven't had success in with in containers. Slowly, I've been transplanting struggling container plants into the garden. 

Take a look at this Swiss Chard! It lived in a tiny pot for almost a year, barely struggling. The first thing I did after breaking new ground, was to put these babies in the earth. It took them a week to get situated in their new surroundings (and richer earth) before they went gangbusters with growth. Two weeks later I harvested my first leaves and sauteed them up for dinner.

As I harvested, cleaned, prepared and ate the chard a realization unfolded. I didn't want to cut back so much of the leaves that the plant died, I took only what the plant could give and thrive. I wrapped the chard in a soft towel - not a plastic bag - as I brought it home and placed it in the refrigerator. I was more conscious about the preparation and cooking. When I finally ate it, (such a small amount) I realized that that small amount was all I needed.

I had a stronger connection to this living thing I cultivated, consumed. When I took care of it and it thrived, I had more produce. The better I took care of it, the better I would be fed. I wasn't disconnected, thinking, it would only cost $2 + tax at the grocery store and if I didn't get around to cooking it, oh well, it was just $2. Because I was connected to this swiss chard, took care of it, I didn't want to waste it - even if the market system said it was only valued at $2.

It's been a long time since I've had such a direct connection to my food. Farm-girl Heather identity was discarded at the California border 15 years ago. But the connection to the land never left. Here are a few more pictures of my Urban Farming. 

 

Here are my peppers and tomato plants. My friend Mimi brought back two peppers from Esalen on the Big Sur coast a few months ago, and I finally got them in the ground. I was a little worried about them since they were so small, but they've really taken off now! Can't wait to harvest Mimi's Esalen peppers! 

Here are my tomato plants, flanked by marigolds. I gave up on the tomatoes in containers because of one very bad aphid infestation. Since we run an organic garden, I've overdosed on the complimentary marigolds as a preemptive aphid attack. You might see a few furrows between the marigolds and tomatoes. Those are my first attempts at carrots from seed! We'll see how they turn out.

I also have two rows of corn (you can see them in the back). This weekend I'll add their two sisters: beans and squash. On the other side I have planted flowers from seed and of course Sunflowers. This weekend I'm moving my sage collection and a few basil plants out of their containers. Go urban gardening go!

The Purple Tornado is...

Five years ago I incorporated a company based on a vision. I named it after the picture in my mind of my two favorite shapes: a spiral and a triangle. I thought, how the hell can a triangle also be a spiral? A spiral is circular, a triangle, well, triangular. I lightly held these two conflicting shapes in my mind, asking how they could be the same. Slowly, the spiral turned sideways and stretched out in 3D space and that is when I saw the triangle. It WAS both a spiral and a triangle! The object was purple, my favorite color at the time, and so I named it The Purple Tornado.

I was so taken with the vision, I immediately knew it had to be a company. What the company was to do/be did not matter. 

With further exploration of the shape I realized it was more than just a tornado, it was also a funnel. Envision the wide top mouth. This reached all the way out into the unknown, unconscious, the potential, the place of all possibilities dreamed and undreamed. The other end of the spiral, the small, compact end, stretched down to earth. It spit ideas into the harsh reality of our world as physical objects, products launched - the idea manifested in material form.

The Purple Tornado is this metaphorical funnel bridging heaven and earth. It is the device I use to reach out into the unknown possibilities and pull them down, manifesting, creating, clarifying, applying the pressure of this reality to manifest, to create a real expression of the idea, an object. The Purple Tornado is an entity of this reality (just ask the IRS) but it is not like any traditional business. It comes and goes as it is needed, much like the blowing and calming of winds. It exists for the sole reason of channeling ideas into reality. Sometimes those ideas are technology products, other times they are experiences and they have ranged from a Debt Auction to a Zombie Cabaret.

Not everyone understands my company. But that's ok. It exists as a metaphor and paying tax entity. But it comes and goes as it's called - not by me - but by the ideas that ask to be realized. It exists to be of service to the possible. To enable these faint baby cries of ideas, of possible futures, to get a chance to exist. The Purple Tornado listens to those cries and whenever possible, helps birth them as best as the resources allow.

Community Garden Side-Effects

Earlier this year, I was a lucky lottery winner in the new West Hollywood Community Garden. I'm a big fan of urban gardening and have been doing my best at container gardening; but was there's just so much you can grow in a container. 

So one bright morning I sat in a room with a bunch of other people competing for one of 30 spots in the new garden. I was trying to cool my competitive air saying, that if I get it great, if not, I'll just expand the containers. However the turn-out was so low that everyone in the room got a plot!

Fast forward a month or so and I'm finally breaking ground and planting seeds. With every visit to the garden I get to know my fellow gardeners and we strike up conversations about plants, gardening, the neighborhood. It's a fun and relaxed community. But it's not limited to the garden!

I'm starting to see my fellow gardeners around the neighborhood. Just yesterday, while I was walking the dog, I ran into a gardener who I was having a conversation with just the night before. She lives less than a block away from my house. And just across the street is another gardener. What a small world!

Who would have thought I would get to know my neighbors by participating in the community garden. It just makes me love my community even more. 

Heathervescent's Los Angeles

Yesterday I spent an hour on the phone giving an introduction to cool things and areas in the City of Angeles. In preparation for the conversation, I pulled out my Google Map: Heathervescent's LA. 

For the first 3 years I lived in Los Angeles, I explored the city. Every day I was in awe at what I would find. Los Angeles was not only the stereotypical brand. There was so much to discover, so much real and authentic and unexpected. I came to fall in love with my city. 

Back then I started this map. There was  no Yelp. User generated content lived on blogs or forums. I did all my local reviews on my blog or blogs I was writing for, and was very active in the blogging community. So it was a lot of fun to go back and update a few spots on the map. 

If you're new to LA - or just looking to explore our city a little more - you might enjoy checking out Heathervescent's LA. 

Hollywood Wild Life

Imagine the scene from 12 Monkey's. That Terry Gilliam Sci-Fi film. Not the ones underground, not the final climax shot, not the crazy cackling Brad Pitt - the one with the animals running free in urban streets. The surface scene of wild animals taking back the city - a city void of homo sapien. Now put the people back.

A few days ago, my blogger pal, William Campbell shared a photo of a hawk in his backyard. It was a gorgeous photo of the same species of bird I have found in my own neighborhood Jacaranda Trees. In the five years I've lived in West Hollywood, it is getting increasingly wild - and not of the human sort. Wild animals find themselves cohabiting in the urban environment. I've seen coyotes (full grown and babies), a family of raccoons, parrots, mockingbirds, crows galore and I can't forget the time the dog pull a possum out of the bushes (he played dead of course). And of course the hawk - all within a block of my house. 

I love this increasing wildlife! And immediately had a vision of special "wild animal" parks - off limits to humans at night, open space, wild areas. Bulldoze a block of houses, let it go back to seed. Let the animals move in. Enough with the manicured parks. Let the earth be wild in urban areas.

 

Diamonds and Jacarandas

"May the four winds blow you home again."

Mornings are cool, moist breeze if I'm lucky. Colors psychedelic purple, vibrant green, magenta. Natural colors be-speckling the grey sidewalks, the black pavement. Trip-trotting four paws, black tail, white tip. Sniff.

I've set off on many adventures since moving to Los Angeles a mere 7 years ago. I arrived with a carload, a one month sublet and no plans, job or friends. All I knew is that Los Angeles wanted me. Adventures ensued. I've painted many canvas's of my identity here in this city of possibilities.

Seven years later, I know the curves of my city, caressing them with each kiss of my comings and goings. Fresh paved Hollywood Blvd, Sunset Blvd, dodging potholes on Olympic. I keep on dancing up and down the gears with the green and red. But what she has in store for me, is always a surprise. 

Today I was making room. Saying good-bye. I packed away all my performance equipment. Costumes, props from my Zombie Cabaret Troupe. Man, that was a blast! How many people can say they had a Zombie Cabaret Troupe in Hollywood? But that's in the past, for now at least. Packed up in boring brown boxes, taken up the industrial elevator to my storage unit in Hollywood. Surveying the stuff, I am reminded of these seven years. Each packet an icon, a symbol for the event, the moment, a memory trigger. I am not yet ready to release these items from my self. But I need the room for new projects, new adventures, new identities, so I pack these away for another day - if only a day for memories.

E.F. and I chat as I make room. We've gotten to know each other over the years. He's always saying something profound, something perfect for the moment. And no different today. Today, I brought him a copy of The Heart's Desire.

And you Nuestra Senora our Queen of Angels? Thanks for a roller-coaster seven years. It's not always easy and it's sometimes hard to be thankful living a self-actualized life, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  Let's keep on flying and pull the net ever higher.

Bushwacking in the City

Deviating from the usual push up the hill, we splashed through the stream into the grove of live oaks. The cool breeze rustled the leaves. The stream trickled over rocks and leaves. We followed the faint trail through the high grass into another grove. Gnarled bark, twisted branches, thickets of thistles, their prickly flowers closed tight, showing just a mohawk of purple. 

Hanging from a branch was a board threaded with rope. The packed earth below gave way to the stream. I remembered rope swings of the past, the feeling the same at any age. Back-kicking to gain more speed and using trapeze leg swinging techniques to gain more lift. 

Leaving the shady grove, we twisted through the chaparral filled with all kind of prickly plants. Rounding a bend, we came upon a hidden valley. It was filled with the buzzing of bees pollinating the wild sage covering the hillsides. I love breathing in the hot sweet smell of the chaparral. Resting in silence on a rock outcropping, I took in the moments. A buzzing and chirp alerted me to the hummingbird quietly sitting on a bush branch nearby. Gnats and bugs were buzzing everywhere. Pup and I sat back to back taking in the view. Silently sitting, moving only to breath. (Have you felt the descent of non-movement, pure silence taking over your body?) Observing, fully connected. 

A perfect (jaunty) view of the Hollywood sign, just beyond the hillside of yellow daisies. The wildness unbroken by the helicopter and private jets taking off from Burbank over the hill. I am amused, as I always am in these moments, at the pocket of wildness in the middle of the city.

Returning to the path for a mere moment, we splash in the stream, paws wet running along the edge, jumping from rock to rock. I remember the streams in my Iowa wilderness as a teenager. The fields I'd find past the treeline. Our cat, Roadha June, sleek and black who would come on these hikes to caves and cemeteries hidden on hillsides.

Those paths are deep in the past. Today I have visited a hot hillside, filled with buzzing bees, blooming sage, a resting hummingbird and groves of Live Oak. We trot back to the car and dry off our paws. Five minutes later, I'm in the thick of things on Sunset Blvd. 

Los Angeles has many costumes in her wardrobe, and this is why I love her.

A Year Off

It used to be, most mornings as I took the pup out into the moist California air, I would greet a certain someone.

I didn't know his name. (I still don't.) We spoke only 2 words.

Let me explain. I live in a neighborhood mostly populated with Russians who arrived in the 80's.  That was a crisis time in the gay community. HIV was decimating it. The Russians were arriving - to cheap empty apartments. My neighborhood, although officially in boy's town, today is like a suburb of a foreign country.

In the evenings I see the retired women walking and talking. I hear Russian TV, Radio out of the apartment windows. At the park, the men stand around the picnic tables not-gambling. (I talked to an FBI agent in that park once.) I have to mention the pawn shops. Then there are the sex stores and adult theatre, although whether their clientele is gay or Russian, I would not know. I wonder about some stores. Those most likely fronts. The women's clothing and perfume store open at 7pm on Sunday or midnight on Friday. For what? Money laundering? Gambling? Human trafficking? 

One can only guess what goes on behind these doors.

And even on the sidewalk, it's questionable. While I nod to the retirees, their grandchildren pull up in black Mercedes, high-five friends. Smoke cigarettes on the balcony.  Less so the medical smoke - my musician/actor neighbors prefer as their "cure."

It had been almost a year since we saw each other. I was off to my office most mornings before we'd pass on the sidewalk.

It was several years before I knew which apartment complex he lived in. These mornings I find him standing outside it. He's recovered much in the past year, but still walks with a cane. I whirlwind past him with my dog, we echo our morning greeting. My hair much longer, not as purple. I wonder if he looks forward to it as much as I do. 

It's not as if we have ever uttered more than 2 words to each other. We probably do not even speak the same language. I suppose there have been stranger interactions.

To me, it's just a delight in my morning routine. Why not? Who says I have to live by any rules of convention?

Fairfax Morning

I'm accelerating as I take the left turn onto Fairfax. I glance over and I notice the dog pressing and leaning into the passenger seat. He's learned to lean with my race car driving, even I take it down a notch when he's with me.

I shift up and put my foot down on the accelerator.

I decide to stop at Mani's for coffee. Then I look in the mirror. I've skipped applying make-up this morning in my rush to get into the office prior to our long engineering meetings. I think, darn, what is the fun in stopping in for coffee if I look like I just rolled out of bed. I think, if I lost 30 pounds, I would be mistaken for a star. And I remember, several years ago that was indeed the case.

However, I've got a long engineering meeting ahead of me and I need some nourishment lest I lose focus or get irritated. So I tell myself, if there is a spot immediately out front, I'll stop. There is. So I don my huge purple Versace shades (brand names just end up in your regular wardrobe after living in LA for a few years), put the car in neutral and slide into the spot. The pup is still chilling in the passenger seat. 

As I jump out, I notice a guy sitting at a sidewalk table. He stands out to me. Something about him shines. I'm feeling self conscious in Navy: boots dress, jacket, and fumble with my coins at the parking meter. It's so obvious he's checking me out, that he states the obvious aloud to me and his dog. I must be a whirlwind of energy. As I leave, I ponder dropping my business card, but I don't want to necessarily indicate I'm interested in him... too bad I don't have one of my purple tornado stickers with me.

* * *

I'm sitting at the traffic light, my hands folded in my lap like a buddha meditating. I am in some ways. My gaze softens, I take in the entire scene around me. The 99 cent truck trying to pull out into traffic. The white SUV in front of me. The black mazda sportscar to my front left. The orb is quietly pulsing on my stereo. The light turns and traffic moves. Without thinking my hand connects with my stick shifter, my left foot engages in a dance as I accelerate through the levels. I feel glazed wood under my hands. The woman who ordered my car opted for the luxury package and my dash, wheel and stick are walnut. I feel a soft lick. Pup's attention is on my hand. He knows where the action is and he wants to be in it.

Hbombtastic Events

I can't stop myself. I am compelled to create these spaces, these experiences. I hope you'll join me if you are into these same things.

• June 7: Ignite 3 in Los Angeles
• June 12-13: Humanity Plus Summit (ps. I'm speaking!)
• June 15: Geek Dinner REDUX @ Canters
• July 24: Save the Date for Xmas in July

********************************************

Ignite3

When: June 7, 7:30pm
Where: V Lounge (2020 Wilshire Boulevard, Santa Monica, CA 90403-5608)
What: 5 Minutes. 20 Slides. 15 Seconds per Slide.
Cost: Free
RSVP & Details

Speakers get only 5 minutes to give an amazing, inspiring talk. In LA, there are tons of different communities at the intersection of tech, academia, art, green/sustainability, entertainment, unique lifestyle design, entrepreneurship, digital/collaborative media, and social action that don't know each other but should. Think of Ignite as a set of trailers for exciting projects people are doing that you should know about.

LA Geek Dinner REDUX

The LA Geek Dinner returns for one night.

When: Tuesday, June 15, 2010, starting around 7:30pm
Where: Canters Deli, Mid-Town on Fairfax near Melrose
What: People who self-identify as geeks
Details

How does it work: Show up, order a drink, some food, be open and friendly, meet some new people, have some interesting conversations, eat some pastrami. It’s a chill scene. No uber networking, self-promotion or company promotion. Just be cool. We’re all friends you haven’t met yet. RSVP on our old friend Upcoming

XMAS in JULY: Santa Needs A Vacation

Save the date for Xmas in July: July 24th. Suggestion: Santa like red bikini's! Planning meeting soon.

The Caveman Picnic: Saturday May 8th

A couple years ago, when I was dressed as Santa and slightly inebriated at a bar in Silverlake, I was reminiscing how awesome the LA Brea Tar Pits were as an Icon of Los Angeles. And I wanted to throw an event there. But what would be the perfect event at bubbling vats of tar in the middle of LA? Why, a Caveman Picnic! Two years later, I'm finally getting around to organizing it. After careful consideration, I decided to move the picnic from the tar pits, to the Old Zoo in Griffith Park - which has actual "cave" enclosures which look straight out of a caveman film set. It's very cool.

So I invite you to come on out to the 1st Annual Caveman Picnic in Griffith Park this Saturday.

Noonish until 4 or so.

How to get to the old zoo picnic area? Park in either:
- Lot 2 for the Carousel
- Old Zoo Picnic area

Then walk a short while up the path to an open green with picnic tables and old zoo enclosures. I will try to put up signs in the old zoo picnic area.

I will have signs posted around the Old Zoo/Carousel 2 parking lot.

This is a BYO Everything/Pot-luck:
You may want to bring

• a folding chair,
• extra cups,
• ice,
• sangria,
• plates,
• trash bags,
• a blanket,
• hula-hoops,
• instruments,
• games,
• big foam clubs,
• extra caveman attire.

Unfortunately there are no BBQ grills allowed where we are picnicking.

If you have extra caveman attire, games, clubs, animal costume heads, a mammoth, etc, bring them.
Activities may include: club fights, hiking, riding the carousel, galavanting, scavenger hunt, mammoth hunt, etc. 

Prepare to take a trip back in time: pre-history Los Angeles, where Giant Sloths and Mammoth's better watch where they step otherwise they'll end up on display in a museum hundreds of years in the future.

Introducing the first annual Caveman Picnic. Wear your caveman or cavewoman finest and join us at the Griffith Park Old Zoo for an afternoon of froliking about caveman style. Roll out your fur blankets and bring that bucket of KFC. We'll reinvent the wheel and play some caveman games.

BYO Everything. Be discrete about your beverages.
No Stoves, BBQs, fire where we are picnicing

You can RSVP on Facebook if you are so inclined.

March Cacophonista

People participate in cacophony-esque events for a variety of reasons. I do it because I like the absurd, interrupting the normal and because life is a stage. Here are some events you can participate in this weekend:

Los Angeles's Impov Everywhere Group
(facebook event link) (@glaimprov)

When: 12pm (noon), Saturday, March 20th, 2010
Meeting Point: Sunset/Vermont Metro station for the briefing. When you arrive, please check-in with us. There will be signs at the station showing you where to check- in.

Bring: Classy Party Attire. Party favors and party hats, but nothing that leaves a mess.

LA Bunnyhop
(facebook event link) (@labunnyhop)

Starts Saturday at Noon at Vermont and Sunset (joining the Countdown)
It's been five years since the last LA Bunny Hop... It's time again. I got a wild hare and decided to gather all you down bunnies for a day of bar-hopping good times... by metro of course. Keep your ears up for more updates.

1. Dress for the occasion. (Bunnies!)
2. Prepare for an easter egg hunt. Bring goodies or something to carry goodies.
3. Follow the LA Bunny Hop on twitter. Stick with your bunnies, but the "schedule" is open to liberal interpretation.
4. Invite all the bunnies you know.

LA Marathon Zombie Stop
(facebook event link) (@heathervescent)

Sponsored in part by Zombies without Borders, the LA Marathon goes through Hollywood and let's make it weird! The LA Marathon is Sunday. Why is everyone running? Zombies of Course! We are the zombies.

--->March 21: Sunday: LA Marathon Zombie Run: 10:30am~2 Mile 12: Gardner &Sunset in West Hollywood Bring cocktails, twinkies, beer, lounge chairs, wear zombie attire

RSVP privately for complimentary zombie makeup time/location nearby. This is an official LA Cacophony Event. Support your local Cacophonistas and be one yourself.

Clothing-"optional" Swap

I am in need of something more powerful than the all-mighty Naked Lady Party. Returning from the open desert full of exploded propane tanks, burned out tired and ancient mine shafts (that entropy ate for lunch over the past 4 decades) I have decided I have too much stuff.

Add to that I prefer clothing swaps to garage sales and finding renewed life for my stuff in my friends house - I am having a massive "clothing-optional" swap.

What the ef is a clothing swap aka a Naked Lady Party?

It's where you go through your closet (all of them or even your house) and pull out the stuff you don't wear, don't want, thought you would wear, that stuff you will never fit into, that belt from an x-boyfriend, that bracelet from the x-friend who stabbed you in the back, those random shoes left at your house after your barely rememberable (although memorable) party last year.... etc.

You get it. The stuff that still have life in it, and someone to love it, but it's not you. Your love for it is dead. But, you're guilt-tripped by the eco-friendly world we live in and can't just throw it in the dumpster. And you could take it to the Salvation Army (or Out of the Closet or the Women's shelter) but, it's just been sitting in the trunk of your car for three weeks already.

Jeeze. I have a lot of baggage.

And it can be yours. I already have 6 bags of stuff, including some stupid books from the web 1.0 era (um, webeconomics anyone? Does anyone remember 1:1 marketing?), three sheets to the wind (and an amazing amount of flannel pillowcases, I can only imagine are from my bay area days that have not yet made it to the camping gear). Amazing beauty products that promise to turn you into a supermodel in 5 days (but I got bored of them after the first night). Random burning man costumes and true vintage 70s Polynesian dresses. Let's not even get started on my random box of electronics, wires, old phones, usb hello kitty dancing delight.

OK. So you may not be interested in any of this stuff. But in the small chance that you are interested, I will sell it to you for the amazing price of .... FREE. Just show up. I'll tell you a story about it and maybe you'll give it a new life. Or maybe you'll just take it to the desert and put it out of it's misery.

If you would like to add any of your stuff to the free swap, bring it - but be sure to take it home if no-one else does. (Or maybe we can organize a mass Out of the Closet run afterwards.)

The bottom line:
Optional: Bring shit to swap. (And bring a bag)
Required: Take something cool home!
Optional (but preferred): Bring a drink (cocktail or not) or snack to share.

Sunday, January 10th, 2010!

Ladies only until from 12-2.

Guys come on by after 2pm until about 4pm.

Details and RSVP here.

Anniversary

Saturday the boyf and I took his car "that can not be named" up to Ojai for a daytrip. We bopped around the town, got a late breakfast and then I suggested we explore highway 33 north through the Los Padres Forest. The tires squeeled around the turns (which the boyf was taking at double the recommended speed) and I gripped the armhold on the door and wished for five point harnesses.

My face was a complete grin and there were no other cars (or motorcycles) in sight. Just magestic purple mountains, rocks and meadows. It reminded me how beautiful California is. There is really no other place on earth - and here we were - a mere 3 hours north of one of the biggest metropolis' in the northern hemisphere. Which made me all weepy for LA.

June gloom and Jacarandas remind me of my first month in LA. I knew the anniversary was coming up when the purple flowers started mucking up the sidewalks on the morning dogwalk. I watched the pair of Jacarandas - over 3 stories high - bloom and make a psychedelic canvas on the rich green grass. First week in June. Five years ago I left San Francisco and arrived in a Venice bungalow. I've spent another year in this city. It's five now. Five years in LA and no sign of leaving.

My Random Act of Kindness

John Paul is a painter and he must be over 80. He lives in the 4plex in front of our house, so every time I take the dog out I walk by his open windows and spy bits of colored paintings. Often I smell solvents and that's when I know hes painting.

I myself prefer to bake and when I do, it's generally big batches that are way more than I want to consume. I used to send a bunch with the boyfriend to work (or take some myself) but I would still have a lot left over. So I figured out a solution to my cookie making problem - maybe John Paul would like some. So now when I make cookies or brownies (or that massive batch of rice crispy treats like a few weeks ago) I make a little package for him.

He told me he enjoyed something sweet with his scotch nightcap. And I get to bake without the worry of eating everything. Problem solved - along with a budding friendship.

Weekend Highlights

I did a lot. I didn't do that much. Here's an enumeration to remind myself.

• H cranky from various things including the stock market and self-imposed stress pressure
• Boyfs sister and husband in law in town
• Spending time in the beautiful garden
• Lazy Saturday
• Crazy Baby Shower party with an old friend. Good times.
• Black Balloon and the midnight fill up.
• A high speed embrace on highway 5
• An awesome Kosher french restaurant
• The aquarium
• A tired H.

Jeeze, I've been moody this weekend. I don't know what the deal has been but I've been really short tempered and alternating between Taoist connected to the flow and wanting to rage against it (and 8 million things in between). I think I'm tired. The darkness of the evenings really depresses me. And the sun comes too early for my liking screwing with my usual standard sleeping patterns. Also the dog has really been wedging him into the wrong places of the bed. Time for the dog smack down again I guess.

Alessandra was telling me about quitting smoking a few weeks ago and describing her craving as "it wants a cigarette." Today I started using that to describe my crankiness. "It wants to be cranky. It wants __fill in the blank__." I think it's appropriate. I often find emotions to be like aliens. They just invade me and it's not like I want to feel them. What I feel is not the totality of who I am. Or, who I'd like to pretend/create/dream/assign who "I" identify with. I'd prefer to identify that person as the part connected to the larger god/life/energy/insertanydescriptionhere. So maybe I should start detaching that from myself like Alessandra was doing with her tobacco craving....

MSM and the Dog

Puppernut has an uncanny coincidence rate. He sometimes does things that look like they are in response to something he's "overheard". Usually it involves licking someone more than someone else. But yesterday a new syncronicity was found.

In the morning the boyf and I were talking about sad things we don't like to think about. He mentioned that it would be really sad when Romeo wouldn't be able to leap up anymore - and we both paused to think about our future old dog, no teeth trying to jump. This image barely formed in my mind when I snatched up the bottle of MSM on the table. For some reason I bought a bottle of this "joint supplement". Because I noticed my body being achier due to old age (which I don't believe) or stress (which I do believe). Anyway I snatched up the bottle and was waving it around saying, "Well, then I'll just start to give him MSM!" in an energetic singsong voice. Shaking the bottle of MSM supplements generally riling up everyone at the table. Sam and I joked and laughed for a while more and then went on to finish up at home and go about our paved roads to work.

When we got home and were hanging out playing with the dog in the bedroom, I looked over to his "kill pile" - this is where he takes his "kill" aka toys, treats, whatever he had caught/collected to devour - and what did I see? The bottle of MSM! It was as if he understood what we were talking about at the breakfast table and not wanting to get old, decided to start taking it himself! Of course the real answer is that it was random (and after reading several books on random order, order in random numbers, random theory, there's a statistical chance that what Romeo did was by pure chance.) But I like to think he really understood us. It makes life more interesting.

Morning Cats

On the rooftop behind our place, the sun rises. Shining it's first morning rays into my eyes. I've been waking up well before 6am. Mostly to think, ponder, half-dream, visual-self-hypno-re-program myself. Eventually my mind is wide awake and I rise myself from the golden bed of revitalization into the world of solid objects.

Yesterday I made two new friends. Two big black cats with bright green eyes. We watched each other through the screen. I was transfixed by the beauty of their sleek coats and penetrating cool eyes. And the freedom to lounge on rooftops watching the sun rise.

They remind, represent those silent morning moments in my life - past and the many more to come.

Dream come true, new dreams

Sam was driving us back from the Reptile Breeders Meeting today. We were in my convertible, the top was down, it was about 85 degrees, I had the A/C on. The new Orb album was revering bass in my seat. And it hit me - this is my dream - one of them at least.

When I was a college student in Cedar Falls, Iowa - home to -50+ below windchill weeks in the winter, I dreamed of having a Saab. It seemed so far out of reach for me. When I lived in Berkeley and needed a new car, I bought a practical Camry. I still dreamed of my fancy car. One company founder had a dark green saab convertible and I drooled over his car. Loved it. Loved it.

When I moved to LA, I decided I needed to have a convertible - because I was in LA now, right?! ;) I had forgotten my Saab dreams and loves until, like a veil I remembered. I made it happen. And now, every day, I drive around in my dream.

It's been four  years. I had forgotten gratitude. I had forgotten that this dream did not always exist. That I worked hard for it to come true. And here I was, being driven on the 5, in Southern California at sunset, top down, wind blowing, my favorite music playing on my stereo system. I was living my dream.

--
Somewhere in the past 6 months or so, my dreams changed. I've gotten caught up in day to day drama - work and relationship - and have forgotten about the big stuff. I remembered this watching Southland Tales. There's an undercurrent about manifesting in life the things that were scripted. That's dreaming and stalking for you. Anyway, it reminded me that I used to do a lot of this. A lot of being in control of my reality, pro-actively creating my life. More recently I've been caught up in winds I don't control - nor can control myself in them.

It's very discombublating.

However, now that I have realized this, I can get back to living life the way I like to. Pro-actively. Focused on an end-goal, that I don't necessarily know exactly how I'm getting there. After, the journey is the destination, and once I know where I am going, getting there is the fun.

Rumble, Gurgle

So there was an earthquake today. Just before noon. I'm sitting in the high tower (literally - the 4th floor turret of a 3 story building) and the floor starts shaking like a truck has hit the building or a huge washing machines is bumping around and I look over at Gaurav (my officemate) and say - "It's an earthquake."

I immediately look up at our beamed ceiling. Wondering if I should move. As I watched (and felt) the building shake, I waited. I waited to see how bad it would get. It subsided and then started up again, stronger than before. I kept seated. I tweeted the earthquake and I waited to see what would happen. Calm and open and receptive in the moment.

It finally finished. The electricity was still on. I was still calm. it was only after a minute or two that my heart started beating. I was not panicked. I was amped up. I had lived through my first big LA quake. Sure, I felt that 3 or 4 pointer back in El Cerrito when I lived in Berkeley. Sure I felt the little 3 pointer earlier this year while I was working in my home office. And yeah, maybe this was not the big one - but I was in an office and the building was moving, and everything was fine. I didn't mind the rumbling - I only watched in anticipation with how strong it was and was the building going to break. Was I in danger. I was not.

I enjoyed the ride. Just like those turbulent flights. Just like landing in the lightening storm in STL back back in the day. Nature, you gotta love her. You gotta respect her and you gotta go with the flow. She's boss.

4 Years Tomorrow

I remember when first heard the word "Jacaranda". It was in a Marisa Monte song in the Southern Hemisphere in a Northern Brazilian Beach town.

Four years ago I subletted a writer's cottage in Venice Beach. A light blue house with a wide grass lawn and a hammock in the back. Across the street from my home office (her office) was a beautiful tree with purple flowers. I learned this was a Jacaranda tree.

I had no reason to come to Los Angeles. I knew no one. I had no job. I had just this one month sublet. I did not come here for boy or job or to run away from my life or join a cult. I came to Los Angeles because it told me I needed to be here. That this place - this city - my birthplace - was where I needed to be. To leave the NorCal Elitist Snobbery and take a chance. Jump into the unknown. I had the guts and I jumped.

I remember these things because Friday is my 4 year anniversary of moving to LA.

Ah what times we've had Los Angeles. What we've learned from each other. What we've brought each other. The opportunities and challenges. I maintain my service to you - to uncover - to bring to light that which others ignore. To see what other can not - do not see - until I point the way - the Primer Inter Pares - threshold to the mainstream.

"My first duty is to sacrifice to the gods and pray them to grant me the thoughts, words and deeds likely to render my command most pleasing -- and to bring myself, my friends and my city the fullest measure of affection and glory and advantage."

I raise my glass to you - to another year of success - new opportunities, new friends and new adventures - always breaking new ground.

Funny Voices

Remembering reading the Libertarian tome (filled with minor characters), Burning Man books, comic books and MySpace emails in my Monster Truck, British and normal voices. I really love reading outloud in my Monster Truck voice.

Poolside in Hollywood

It's a Hollywood story. Text message. Convertible on Sunset Blvd. Valet park @ the Standard. I'm wearing my puking clown t-shirt from threadless as I take a seat in the Joshua Tree room. I'm looking at the wall paper and thinking about the ranch and how I might build a wall in the middle of the desert only to plaster it with this wall paper.

Then I'm drinking a mocha poolside while I listen to a director and two other folks talk about the movie deal. At the table next to me two sunglass clad metrosexuals enjoy their yogurt and berries. I'm tempted to order a drink but I'm trying to hit Rachel's Cardio Funk at Noon to get these abs into show off state.

I pull out my yellow book and three coins and offer a birthday gift of enlightenment to my friend. He throws the coins and the reading is one for us all. "Do not be that which you are not - be authentic - follow your true path." We talk about the things we usually talk about. Which is not politics (we're both libertarians) or burning man (much) or art or technology. We talk about the things our minds toy with. Relationships, processing. I make fun of the name he gave me "Mr Hard Ass." And I am. This time we talk about wolf packs, writing, motivation, conflict, relationships and an obvious asset. I suppose that's what we talk about most of the time. A phone call interrupts us - we have fun with it.

It's been a while since I've lived these typical LA stories. I immediately wonder why is that? I've gotten stuck in a groove. I've become more serious than usual. (All weekend the boyf was joking with me that I'm soooo serious - especially when I am joking. That reminds me that humor is not something I strive for, but rather the absurd and eccentric.)

I'm returning to things from the past. Returning to past mindsets, my internet radio show, my twisty drives in the Santa Monica Mountains. I consider Aikido, exercise, my desire for that "malibu mansion**" (I knew even then it was going to be in the Hollywood Hills). I think about which things I may cut, how I've stopped using GTD and the flow and flux of friends.

I long for those days. The vanilla sky. When LA was new and undiscovered. However it is still new and undiscovered. I've just gotten stuck in my habitual ruts. Time again, to break out.

* Image by Sam Newman

** This is joke with a friend. I'm referring to the mansion I'd buy once I was famous in Los Angeles, from back when I was only considering moving here.

ps. Remember "stealing the novelty"

Jacaranda Blue

I've really enjoyed theses spring dog walks. I've found a nearby neighborhood where my eyes feast on the houses, the streets and trees. It's not typical Los Angeles, with white picket fences and non-palm-tree-lined streets. The Jacaranda's have been fabulous. It's one of my favorites times.

Grey wet sidewalk
Carpet of fresh green grass
White picket fences

Everywhere I look is a visual feast.
Psychedelic bougainvillea
Fat avocados on a bare tree
Delicate yellow flowers hidden in vines

Click-click pattering on the pavement
The wind caresses my neck
I inhale a sweet scent
Raise my eyes to the sky watching
ravens and crows, finches and jays.

Patches of purple flowers shower the way
better than any red carpet.

* photo by Autumn Leaf

Go see this movie: Wrong is Right

I caught this movie at the New Beverly last night. It was originally released in 1982, but it is almost true to our modern political situation. Check out the description:

Based on Charles McCarry's 1979 novel The Better Angels, Wrong is Right is set in a near future in which violence has become something of a national sport and television news has fallen to tabloid depths (a significantly bigger stretch in 1982, when the film was released.) Star Sean Connery plays Patrick Hale, a globe-trotting reporter with access to a staggering array of world leaders. As the film opens, he has ventured to the Arab country of Hegreb to interview his old acquaintance, King Ibn Awad (Ron Moody). Awad has learned that the President of the United States (George Grizzard) may have issued orders for his removal; as a result, Awad) is apparently making arrangements to deliver two mini-nuclear devices -- each about the size of a small suitcase -- to a terrorist, with the intention of detonating them in Israel and the United States, unless the President resigns. In the intricate plot that unfolds, nothing is quite the way it seems, and Hale finds himself caught between political leaders, revolutionaries, CIA agents and other figures, trying to get to the bottom of it all.

Really, I highly suggest you pop over to the New Beverly tonight or pick it up on DVD. Classic lines like - Gas is up to $3.60! 80's satire has become aughts reality.

Home Again Dreams

I woke up to the coolness of an LA morning. I open the windows, getting snippets of the opera singer next door. My mind is a jumble of the dream memories, pavement, deserts, a bus. My skin is dry from the heat and traveling. My purple has faded into a fuscha. I'm thinking about Chicken John and his untouchable spotlight. I'm back in the comfort of my office. My Brazilian Visa paperwork reminds me of an errand I must do today. It's good to be home.

Traveling Around

I'm off on a desert walkabout on Sunday. But first, I'll stop by the Brewery Artwalk and see my friends art (Miriam, Isa, Vanessa & Kasey, Kevin), then it's Bootie at the new larger Echoplex - although I'm intrigued by the undead celebration at Beta Level. Then it's off to Tuscon for a week at the Science of Consciousness Conference, where I'm hoping to expand my mind academically. I'm staying at the Historic Hotel Congress. Then on my way home, I'm stopping at the Amargosa Opera House.

Then I'm back in LA for a week, to host the 2nd Anniversary of the LA Geek Dinner. (Two years - wow!) And then it's off to NY, Boston for roflcon and then to South America. I'm finally returning to Brasil - and this time, I'm visiting Sao Tome das Letras.

LA's Freeze

I've gotten involved in GuerilLA. Here's our second "mission" where we join the national Improv Everywhere Freeze.

Borges in the Brain

It was another night of crazy dreams.  There was the MOMA exhibit of toilets, but none of them worked and I had to go to the bathroom. There was the huge jar/pot (the size of a small car) with a smaller jar/pot inside it. There was someone inside the larger jar and a snake in the smaller pot. I buzzed my lips and the snake started to wake up. I couldn't tell if over which pot lip I was buzzing and whether I was the person in the pot or out of it. I didn't want to get bitten by the snake.

Back in the this life I have become re-obsessed with stunt car driving again. Like I wrote before, I wanted to take stunt car school for 6 years - and I finally did it this past year. It was hard! Really hard and I was not the immediate expert I had hoped to be. I had a lot going against me - my arm muscles, my uncalussed palms. That's ok, I still loved it. I would become great - but I needed a lot of practice. The problem was - where to practice? It's not like I've got a track in my backyard and I respect the laws enough to not practice on the streets.

Anyway, I am working to remedy this problem, to get more training and practice to actually be able to do some driving (maybe not stunt at first) for the moooovies. (You know that small text "Closed Track, Professional Driver"? Yeah, I wanna do that.) Has heathervescent finally gotten hit by the hollywood bug?

All I know, is that I love driving, I've loved cars, driving from the moment I was born. And speed. I like to go fast too. But ya gotta build up to that. Piuma canyon is still my favorite and my recent craigslist and eBay searches have included "purple camaro" from the 70's.

Ah, dreams - you gotta love them.

Love Anniversary - Romeo

Romeo
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

On this day last year, the boyfriend and I welcomed a squirming bundle of licks into our home. It's hard to remember how easy and clean life was before Romeo. The year seems much much longer. We've had our ups and downs. Lots of ripped squeeker toys, chocolate bars and avocado encounters. 

Thanks for all your licks and love, my little Romeo.

Dogs and Avocado, parts 2 and 3

Here are two more stories for the dogs and avocados category.

Part 2
The boyfriend and I went out to sushi earlier this week. We've done a good job of ordering and aren't left with much after sating our appetite. There's one avocado roll left. I am very tempted to pop it in my mouth, but before I do that I have a gem of an LA idea pop into my head. Let's take it home for the dog!

There are so many things that delight me about this idea. It is completely and utterly absurd. Feeding sushi to the dog? Well, if there is one place on earth you could get away with that, it would have to be LA. To prove the stereotype, we decide to wrap it up and take it home. It's partially an experiment. Will the dog eat sushi?

Part 3
A couple days after the sushi incident. (Which we video recorded so you'll be able to see the results!) I came home to a bunch of leathery pieces of avocado skin on the bed. There were no bits of avocado flesh and no pit. I use my deductive powers to figure out the dog must have gotten the avocado out of the fruit bowl. But where was the pit? The boyfriend found the pit in a pile of laundry. It was licked clean.

My earlier assumption about the dog not liking avocado has been proven incorrect. I think he was confused by the skin on his first attempt. I have to admit, that I like the idea of giving him avocado as a treat more than the processed dog treats. He still loves his pig ears (and I do love giving them to him), but avocado is an excellent alternative.

Pls. hold for the dog eating sushi video.

The Houses I Almost Bought

To the tune of "the cars she used to drive" I see the houses I almost bought. Sunset from Silverlake to Echo Park I pass the possibilities. I think back to the reality of the future. Bright colors, a happy dog, a yard. My exile has ended. I'm remaking domestic bliss in the present.