Scout

Waking up two mornings ago, not sure what to do, bag heavy with food in case I wanted to head for Rustic Canyon. For days.

That was the day I wrote last? No. After writing I got that food, after photographing dense smog, and feeling fatigue--all the traffic.

Emerging from Rose Bowl (two morns ago), called Coast Guard re: MMD status: (it was) To be mailed out that day.

And I thought I'd have two more weeks.

Read chamber of commerce magazine about Pasadena (it was in a newpaper dispenser in front of the PO--I was thinking of mailing some stuff away so I'd not need to carry it, stuff such as the MMD paperwork): Trees have been a part of Pasadena's design from nearly the beginning. John Muir recognized city's artistic, intellectual something-or-other in 1886. Caltech is the largest employer, followed by the community college (7[?]th largest cc in the state), followed by the city. Parsons is a design/build firm (with a very large building labeled "Parsons". Perhaps they build prisons.) Caltech has more Nobel Prize-winning faculty and alumni than any other institution (?!). The first highway (er, freeway, as in non-toll road?) in the US was the Pasadena Freeway, the 110, Pasadena -> Long Beach, via downtown LA. Caltech runs JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratory), funded by NASA, which was behind many or most US space missions, including the recent Mars robot expeditions (but a guy from U of Arizona was the mission head/PI).

No city the size of Pasadena (130-170 thousand) has as many cultural, educational, etc, resources. They also have CA Culinary Institute, and Art Center College of Design. Significant museums.

Most notably, though, to me, they have a downtown and appear to never have let it become a (weekend/after-hours/car-commuter-centric) wasteland (by/in the 80s) as did every other (larger) US city I have spent time in.

The light rail from Union Station was completed in 2003. The light rail is one reason Pasadena has become one of my LA homes. It is easy and pleasant to get to. Prefer trips by rail over bus+pavement.

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Waking, wondering what to do, each morning, is not super easy. Get up or lay here? Cook or not? Read? Stay here or walk?

Went to library to get bus schedule for trip back to SD.

Walked back to Fuller Theological Seminary to photo a life-size statue of Jesus being nailed to cross. Chatted with Jimmy(?) about his mission to Russia with iteams.org (/com?) & Jesus. Posed for photos at food distribution site until deciding to walk south (to Long Beach?).

Spent $2.18 on corn tortillas, buttermilk at Trader Joe's (exercised the store owner's something-or-other on the way out as she glanced at me, with headstrapped load). Ate these next to Fillmore light rail stop. Wanting more(?), Raided dumpsters, found pizza, bananas. Walked on, roughly following light rail south. Drive-by donation of $17--I said "no, that's ok", but driver said, no, go on. . . "thanks brother." Had been enjoying the freedom of my costume and role. That donation threw me a bit. . . I'm playing around, and not really generous or deserving (and sort of have a policy against giving money [to others]. . . I seem not to want it to be just given to me? Needing to work for it/food is one of the few [helpful?] constraints I have?). There was a black homeless guy in a doorway with cart and two dogs across the busy way (why don't I give it him? What was effect of my initial refusal on drive-by donor?), across from the Pasadena Water Department's 5Os-style (er, 'art deco' may be the term) extravagant 25' tall jet fountain in the cool mist of which I'm:

Got message about being human guinea pig. Later returned call, but haven't heard back.

Ate my treasure (not the bananas though). . . A bit much, but in the end, seems to have been good (wanted fat, I think).

Kept catching the eyes of this older woman photo'ing the fountain. I wonder about my non-interaction sometimes--should I say something friendly to not be so odd/potentially fear-contributing? Am I reproducing my own fear of interaction/standoffishness in others?

Shared some bananas with the black homeless guy. . . only because he sort of helped with a silent "what have you got there?" as I walked by, and I certainly didn't need or want to keep carrying them all. . . He had a nice missing-[some]teeth smile, belly, bit of white in hair and beard, polished shoes in hands. He said "oh these are good!" not what I was expecting, about the b's. . . Later thought of asking if he'd tried shelter/transitional living (Jimmy [iteams, Russia, missionary] used to work with homeless in downtown LA and got to talking about how to really help vs. just get a feeling of helping. . . and would have helped me find a transitional living place it sounded like), but he had walked away for a bit.



Wandered south through more interesting hoods. . . Pedestrian stairs, narrow streets, (picturesque cottage/castle/gable/tower/courtyard/wall/patio/window panes on wood-floored open, decor-ed, rooms/old large trees, shade and things growing there, fall leaves/ ways wind round hill, stairs direct/ houses fronting right on the ways) then to the Oak Lawn (architecture history plaque, grid, mansion, larger setback) suburb. By pedestrian bridge found path to secluded spot along the rail line.

Hours there, finishing _Magic Mountain_, digesting. (Homeless guy, clean, non-grungy type, hispanic, across the fenced-in tracks, put washcloth out to dry, cleaned his spot, me wondering how the litter had got there. Elsewhere, directly under the bridge, was a very littered homeless bed.). At dusk walked south again, a long ways, getting a pound of lard ($1.65?) at a great low-cost store (in low-cost hood). . . Monterey St and Ave 63. . . continuing quest for unbingeable fat. . . could not bring self to buy more nasty, salty parmesan. Know I seem to need to add a bit of fat to every eating time. Walked on just a bit further from this wonderful, newly-open, asian manager (slightly pudgy) helping bag, empty store ("Double Saver"?), to the urban camp spot from heaven (if it were not for freeway 110 noise), discovered on previous walk south along the arroyo. Slept well, long, with earplugs, dreams.

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Three banana breakfast. What now? Jesus said go back down hill, get on at nearest light rail stop (Highland Park, turns out). A woman I am happy to remember, mixed, acne scars on lower face, part hispic?, pronated (or the opposite?) shoesoles, with bike, got off there on my last ride. Might I see her? (how rare to see a fine, marked, cheap-shoed she w/ cheap bike. . . what is her mind like/the psychology there, . . . Like to think a bit of my glances do her no harm, I feel her, she me in some way, dream of the days when our phones might refer us to our online IDs [bluetooth already sort of can, but I haven't messed with it]--that would not help her interest in me--but, unlike Neutrino, and younger me, I let them all go, every one, unless hugely remarkable, until s/he, and the feeling, are there a second time. Yes. Great public space.) Why was the thought (Jesus?) pointing me this way? Did not obey exactly, may never know, but did send me by Culebra, the park [created] by that LA CityRepair-variant mentioned in earlier post, and a fine-looking homeless latina in a dirt ped alley with a makeshift shelter; alley began with knee-high chainlink, ended with ped stair. Before the fine woman (how could she be here, smiling?), I stopped to photo an aviary. Is this the Herman hood? Doubt it is spelled right. (Some day may be less bashful about asking to photo people--she might say yes, then you could see and wonder too, and I could study the still image and wonder more.)

No more wondering, anyway, returning to SD. To continue playing Boy Scout with the merchant marine.

Few of us are genius enough to do something great with a blank sheet of paper, wrote a guy on the worldchanging blog (and me, sort of).

Yeah. So give me some direction, tell me what to do, at least a little bit.

Why am I not at Caltech? Or any number of other. . .

Why do I like this bureaucratic hoop-jumping?

It has nothing to do with my personality (as long as I pass background checks; am willing to submit, as Mike M is not, to shoes, passport, driver's license).

I do/ did like the Boy Scout model (self-paced requirement fulfillment). This whole merchant mariner licensing business seems similar.

In any event, when I finish the next steps (dentist, character letters, statement of why), and if that app gets me to the next step, I get to go to Long Beach (er, Wilmington, to the SIU union hall) again and can wander around after that until they tell me it is time to go to Piney Point for training.

Never mind that the more I wander around, the less I think I'll want to hang out for long times on small ships. . . But nevermind that.

I just spent two point five hours today practicing belly focus/ meditation while waiting for the TWIC card registration system to get back up to speed after freezing/molasses, while a broken door screeched as other lambs arrived. . . And valued it, possibly others did too.

Could I start an urban camping ecotourist business? (sick, this endless business question, but how great it would be to help others not have to wonder as much? Think I may be making that kind of contrib, but not by business-starting?)

Peace,