a love letter to dtla:

when i'm lucky, and i have nothing going on on a saturday, i spend it moseying down broadway in the morning. (of course, if i am busy on a saturday it's typically because i have something fantastical and magical to be doing/seeing/exploring/sewing/writing/selling/making/visiting/traveling/singing/dancing/observing and i'm typically never doing anything i don't want to do, another form of lucky lucky lucky.)

but on these mornings that i have grown to love so much, the sky is blue and clear, my phone tells me it's anywhere from 79 to 81, and i have nothing on the books and i can get a coffee and walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk...

the birds on broadway do big circling swoops up and down from 9th to 5th, hill to main. the air smells of street tacos, and sometimes there is a man on the corner of 6th ish who goes out early to buy portos bakery and sell it from a cart. (there is no portos for 10+ miles from downtown, about 30 minutes, which is 25 minutes too long for a downtowner who wants to bop block to block, coffee-breakfast-cvs-work-lunch-grocery-market-home.) he has a cardboard sign that says "portos" in red marker and i don't recall much else written. i did not see him today.

every time i go on these big walks it is mainly for the purpose of going to the last bookstore. or perhaps i go to the last bookstore for the sake of going on a big walk. perhaps both things are true and the bookstore happens to be the perfect distance from my apartment to do so. this morning i got there exactly at 11am to find a line of people waiting outside for the doors to open. some phones out, some group selfies taken, old couples wearing fisherman hats and linked at the elbow, leaning in and chatting. i smiled at a woman who seemed very excited to be there, and she grinned back at me under her big round sunglasses.

i did my usual route –– a beeline for the cds (slim pickings today) then snake my way around the lower level, movie reference, poke through the poetry, classics, maybe the la section, then go up and take a left at the top of the stairs, pass through the cafe that used to be more gallery space, then through the gallery, which used to be some arrangement i don't remember, then through all the artist shoppes to see what's new (mainly just andrea bogdan because i am her biggest fan). recently i have been glazing through the history section and going straight for sci-fi, then through the maze and back down the stairs and through poetry and past security and through the doors and out onto the street where the birds are swooping down and there are rainbow umbrellas on the food carts and men peddling jewelry and people coming and going with shopping carts and fast food and birds on shoulders and odd bits and things.

this path though the bookstore has changed bit by bit every few months or so since i've lived here, as i unlock a new interest or little corner of the world. for a while i would visit the stephen holman cats, i was really into the irish bit of the world history section for a minute, and there was a time i would frequent the fashion section. (i go less often now as i have seen the same gaggle of illustrative reference books cycle through every 3-6 months like clockwork, as they get donated by the graduating fashion students a few blocks west and north.) there is a god awful tattoo coffee table book that has been there for who knows how long now, and always a christian dior pocket history, which seems to be on replen because the packaging is always new.

when i have done my time at the bookstore and made my purchases (none today) then begins the long stroll home. this time around i had to square around a bit and run some errands, so i peeled off broadway sooner than i usually would, but i got most of the stretch in...

even though i haven't lived here that long, i feel very nostalgic walking around downtown. i think because establishments change so fast –– cafes opening and closing, my school shutting down the annex on hope st, new restaurants and odd façades popping up –– it's easy to be wistful when someplace you used to frequent is no longer, even if it was just a year ago. when i lived slightly outside of the main downtown area for about 9 months last year, i was very aware of this rapid change happening without me there to witness it. i would do my walks weekly instead of daily, and it still wasn't enough to keep up. i got dtla fomo.

since making the decision to move at the end of this lease, these places have revealed new secrets and weight and beauty and depth to me, as if saying wait!! where are you going!!! we have more to show you!!

i guess we will see when i come back in however many years how much really fundamentally changes. there are shops with the big red and yellow CLEARANCE LIQUIDATION SALE EVERYTHING MUST GO signs that have been here many moons before i arrived here with my little suitcase. i don't see them closing anytime soon.

a love letter to dtla:

when i'm lucky, and i have nothing going on on a saturday, i spend it moseying down broadway in the morning. (of course, if i am busy on a saturday it's typically because i have something fantastical and magical to be doing/seeing/exploring/sewing/writing/selling/making/visiting/traveling/singing/dancing/observing and i'm typically never doing anything i don't want to do, another form of lucky lucky lucky.)

but on these mornings that i have grown to love so much, the sky is blue and clear, my phone tells me it's anywhere from 79 to 81, and i have nothing on the books and i can get a coffee and walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk...

the birds on broadway do big circling swoops up and down from 9th to 5th, hill to main. the air smells of street tacos, and sometimes there is a man on the corner of 6th ish who goes out early to buy portos bakery and sell it from a cart. (there is no portos for 10+ miles from downtown, about 30 minutes, which is 25 minutes too long for a downtowner who wants to bop block to block, coffee-breakfast-cvs-work-lunch-grocery-market-home.) he has a cardboard sign that says "portos" in red marker and i don't recall much else written. i did not see him today.

every time i go on these big walks it is mainly for the purpose of going to the last bookstore. or perhaps i go to the last bookstore for the sake of going on a big walk. perhaps both things are true and the bookstore happens to be the perfect distance from my apartment to do so. this morning i got there exactly at 11am to find a line of people waiting outside for the doors to open. some phones out, some group selfies taken, old couples wearing fisherman hats and linked at the elbow, leaning in and chatting. i smiled at a woman who seemed very excited to be there, and she grinned back at me under her big round sunglasses.

i did my usual route –– a beeline for the cds (slim pickings today) then snake my way around the lower level, movie reference, poke through the poetry, classics, maybe the la section, then go up and take a left at the top of the stairs, pass through the cafe that used to be more gallery space, then through the gallery, which used to be some arrangement i don't remember, then through all the artist shoppes to see what's new (mainly just andrea bogdan because i am her biggest fan). recently i have been glazing through the history section and going straight for sci-fi, then through the maze and back down the stairs and through poetry and past security and through the doors and out onto the street where the birds are swooping down and there are rainbow umbrellas on the food carts and men peddling jewelry and people coming and going with shopping carts and fast food and birds on shoulders and odd bits and things.

this path though the bookstore has changed bit by bit every few months or so since i've lived here, as i unlock a new interest or little corner of the world. for a while i would visit the stephen holman cats, i was really into the irish bit of the world history section for a minute, and there was a time i would frequent the fashion section. (i go less often now as i have seen the same gaggle of illustrative reference books cycle through every 3-6 months like clockwork, as they get donated by the graduating fashion students a few blocks west and north.) there is a god awful tattoo coffee table book that has been there for who knows how long now, and always a christian dior pocket history, which seems to be on replen because the packaging is always new.

when i have done my time at the bookstore and made my purchases (none today) then begins the long stroll home. this time around i had to square around a bit and run some errands, so i peeled off broadway sooner than i usually would, but i got most of the stretch in...

even though i haven't lived here that long, i feel very nostalgic walking around downtown. i think because establishments change so fast –– cafes opening and closing, my school shutting down the annex on hope st, new restaurants and odd façades popping up –– it's easy to be wistful when someplace you used to frequent is no longer, even if it was just a year ago. when i lived slightly outside of the main downtown area for about 9 months last year, i was very aware of this rapid change happening without me there to witness it. i would do my walks weekly instead of daily, and it still wasn't enough to keep up. i got dtla fomo.

since making the decision to move at the end of this lease, these places have revealed new secrets and weight and beauty and depth to me, as if saying wait!! where are you going!!! we have more to show you!!

i guess we will see when i come back in however many years how much really fundamentally changes. there are shops with the big red and yellow CLEARANCE LIQUIDATION SALE EVERYTHING MUST GO signs that have been here many moons before i arrived here with my little suitcase. i don't see them closing anytime soon.