From deep, deep in the cotton-pickin' red clay'd piney woods o' east Texas, I bring you the tales of my sister Bethzilla, hideous freakin' white trash welfare-cheatin' pill-popping, bowl-smoking, vodka-swilling redneck swamp thing what done crawled up out of the danged boggy bottoms of Uncertain, Texas and also of Momma, a transplanted, dirt-floored, rice paddy, hand-raised Cajun girl from the south Texas depression era. Take a look see. Go ahead, lookee.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
The Hollywood I Know
by Cy Jarvis
A Crosby , Stills and Nash song plays loud on my car stereo:
"It's getting to the point (pause) where I'm no fun anymore."
I can relate to the middle-aged angst in that lyric. A dirt-smudged young woman, maybe 23, 24, is pushing a trashbag-filled shopping cart down Sunset Boulevard wearing NOTHING but skimpy panties and a half bra.
Middle of the day. Busy street. Past thousands of eyes. Pushing that damned stubborn rusty-wheeled cart over curbs and jutting chunks of sidewalk. Clattering down the boulevard, half naked.
She's darkly tanned with dirt-matted blonde hair. None of the hundreds of Salvadoran/Guatamalan Whatever bus stop commuters are paying her much attention. Crazy white girl. Someone else's problem. Mijo, don't look.
This is Sunset Boulevard (east) , where people have enough of their own troubles to bother with some crazy white girl.
She doesn't look crazy to me. Just tired. Too tired to put on clothes or give a shit about people seeing her half naked. Just pushing that heavy cart full of shoes and shorts and last month's laundry to some place of safety . . . wherever THAT may be.
I start my Chevy's engine. I've got a trunk full of freshly washed shirts and underwear and I don't want any trouble, either. I'm homeless living in my car, trying to keep a low profile as it's against the law to live in your own car and I've already been complained about in this neighborhood.
Some old busybody named Mary complained to my friend Yoni's landlord about me. She didn't like me watching The Simpsons on my 6-inch TV in my car under the shade of a grand old tree across the wide, four laned street in front of her second floor apartment about 150 feet away. Called the lawdogs on me.
Seems she thought I might be some sort of potential threat or a portent of other car dwellers planning an invasion of that high traffic neighborhood.
I was just trying to get some shade.
Maybe that's what the crazy white girl was looking for, too: a little shade from the oppressive city heat (and vigilantes).
Tags: epk, hollywood, hiphop, rap, ghetto, LaBrea, blvd, swan, undead
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