On the Promenade

If you didn't know, Malibu is an island. We have our grocery store, drug store, surf shop, gym, and three coffee shops...go figure. It is an island with everything imaginable about 45 minutes off shore. The huge smog (I always want to write that Smaug) cloud to the east reminds of that daily. One of the little hot spots between here and the heart of LA is the relatively well known Santa Monica and its crown jewel, the Third Street Promenade. No cars are allowed on Third Street and on weekend nights, the place is alive with street performers, homeless, middle schoolers, and generally off the wall people. One old man always sets up a table asking for money in exchange for his psychic cat to do a reading. One old Chinese man who looks exactly Pai Mei from Kill Bill Vol 2 plays his flute in the same corner every night. You have the teenage boys doing their break dancing and acrobatic stunts. Another man traps cigarette smoke in giant bubbles and shines a flashlight on them...who thinks of this?

Last weekend I spent some time down on the promenade sipping a peppermint latte with some friends and watching people. In addition to all the usuals, we had a few first-time sightings. If you have ever been to New York or other cities w/ hoppin downtowns and lots of tourists you have probably see the talented Asian men who write your name in butterflies and birds using colorful paint and cosmetic wedges. They do it with mad speed and now I know how. They are martial artists. Their Chi is centered. Our table was across from one of these men. We hadn't paid him much attention except to remark on how little business he was getting, then it happened. He got up from his seat, stood in the middle of the road and began to do martial arts sequences ("forms" I believe they are called). Up and down the street he went jumping, kicking, punching, spinning. Passers-by were hypnotized. He had to know we were looking at him, but on he went for a good fifteen minutes. Then it was over, he packed up his belongings and left. I almost wanted to give him a tip.

As Kung Fu painter man packed up, another character passed us by. His face reflected a hard life, and his soft sustained muttering made me question his sanity. I noticed him pass a few times walking in different directions. On his third walk by he planted himself right in font of our table and turned towards us. I avoided eye-contact and realized he was looking above our heads at the McDonald's sign. His muttering grew louder, though still gibberish. A shaking finger was raised and the hardened face produced a hateful scowl. His need for dental work became apparent at such close range. I'm not sure what McDonald's had done to this guy, but it was kinda freaking me out.

We left shortly thereafter walking down an alley to our parking garage, Marcus remarked "this is just the type of alley where people get the crap beaten out of them." It was true. We passed a couple who could have gotten citations for littering AND...littering AND...smoking the reefer. Yay for marijuana. Santa Monica just passed a city-wide ordinance that cops won't bust you for possession unless they see the sale taking place...bonus...or something. That was that. I'm thinking about going back to Third Street with a notebook and voice recorder sometime on a Friday around 8 and just sitting at a table until around 1am. So much comic and literary inspiration right at my fingertips.

I got Consider The Lobster by David Foster Wallace for my birthday...not that i opened it early. What a funny guy. I missed him. I'm looking forward to some new vocab words.