In Echo Park, they are spreading tar on the roads and blocking off streets so we can't drive to the house. Neighbors are re-arranging the barricades. Gray and foggy here, with thunder and rain yesterday. E drives an ancient Mercedes with iffy windshield wipes. She turns them on and they stop when they feel like it, o, 10 minutes later. It's a glorious car, cracked dash, rumbly tires, creative glove compartment. And she runs it on vegetable oil so we smell like fries.
We went to the farmer's market yesterday in the parking lot of a church. All the farmers spoke Spanish except for the cherry farmers. They were Japanese.
Guatemalans, Koreans, Mexicans, El Salvadorans, Ethiopians, Iranians and Israelis. That's LA. We bought fabric downtown yesterday. Reminded me of Varanasi and the silk merchants in India. Fabric hanging from every doorway, the owner sitting outside with tupperwear lunches, rice and fava beans.
2 comments:
I bought my fabric stash almost exclusively from the LA fabric district. It's the best.
Totally, so wild. What do you do with fuzzy pink and orange stretchy stuff? Make yourself a lettle mini skirt, of course!
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