Jon And Some Politics

Here I am.

[deep breathe]

I’m here again, back at the outskirts of love.  I left the city because of the same reason we all usually migrate: over-population.  If you can’t be the one when that’s all there’s room for, you pack your bags: load it with souvenirs from days and nights spent; add to the baggage of a heart well traveled.  I’m a Pullman port…

“What can I get for you?”

Um…I’ll take a small coffee. Light roast.  Leave room for cream, please.

“Ok. Will that be all for you?”

Yes.

“Ok. That’ll be $1.44”

“Debit or credit?”

Credit

“Thank you, Mr. Stitu…Stiutu…Sti…”

It’s Stitution.  Justin Stitution. 

“Oh…Sorry.  Thank you, Mr…Stitution.  Enjoy your coffee.” 

No, thank you…[squints at name badge]…Sarah. 

She blushes as she hands me the cardboard-protected paper cup.  I give her a spurious smile to diffuse the awkward moment we both just stepped on.  Human interaction is a fragile concept.  Psyches are both made and broken from seemingly simple exchanges of words.  If the pen is mightier than the sword, then the sharp iron has, by no means, any match for the tongue.

I’m a Pullman porter.  Well, at least that’s what I tell them.  I had to leave the city.  There was no room.  I was forced out; black-listed; expelled.  I’m an expatriate.  I’ll always love that city; it will always be a part of me. 

Fine, I’ll get it off my chest. 

Damn, this shit burns my tongue every time; where’s the half and half?

No, not that. Sorry.  Anyways, I’ll get it off.  There’s a story.

So, I fell in love with a girl who had been eaten alive; swallowed whole. 

By what? A monster, of course? What else devours a live human being?

Just think about it.  I wasn’t there when it happened, but I’d imagine the sight was quite grotesque; a young girl resisting; fighting for her life as this monster overtakes her.  She kicks and screams; punches and whales; pleads and cries.  Yet, this beast, this ogre of a thing, opens its mouth and forces her down its throat.  May its intestines have mercy on her soul.  That damn city. 

So, yea, it ate her alive.  When something eats you alive, you become a part of it.  When it moves, you move.  What it digests, you neighbor. It controls you.  That monster.

Lucifer.  Who likes a lady of the night better than the son of the morning? He was born of the bright light from a rising star.  Ha! She was doomed from the start:  mornings, bright lights, rising stars.  Never had a chance. 

 Eventually, she made her way out of the beast’s belly; took the backdoor.  She exited with the stench of love gone sour: too much time spent in high temperatures.  Cool down, baby. 

She felt like shit, and because of that feeling, she was hardened.  How did I know? You could tell.  Some nights the moon would stare at her, and she’d glare back; the wind misdirecting her hair; the stars undressing her with their eyes. Yet, nothing fazed her. Her heart was broken. 

I glue it together. But, at the end of the day, it’s glue.  When a heart shatters from a hardened soul, the answer is not something that in itself cements.  The solution, is instead, a treatment I would never discover either because of mortality or fate—the type of decision that we leave to history’s burden.  Maybe that’s the reason I’m telling this whole series of memories; because herstory has a burden too. 

Excuse me, can I get another lid.  This one won’t stay on?

“Oh, yes.  Here, you go, sir? Anything else?”

No. No thank you.

So, what do you do when you’ve been hardened and broken?  My knowledge of Physics is limited. So, I’m not sure of the scientific validity, but from lessons of love, I’ve seen that this process turns the heart quite cold. Cold enough to make memories of passion become repellants; frigid enough to blind a lover from concern; brisk enough to make a woman call upon a hitman, a proven assassin:  Karma.  I hope they both burn in hell: the creed of a lover scorned. 

I know what you’re wondering now: what happened to the girl? I don’t know. You tell me when you see her.  I left, remember? I’m a Pullman porter. 

“Hey Stits! Get your ass on this train! The passengers are about to board!” 

I guess it’s time for me to go. 

Damn, that was some good ass coffee.

JC 

The local mayoral campaign sauntered its way to the illustrious halls of UCLA on last night. The Bruins hosted the five top candidates for LA’s highest office:  Eric Garcetti, Wendy Gruel, Jan Perry, Kevin James, and Emanuel Pleintez.  Because this debate was locally televised, it took on an even more cinematic flavor than the previous forums: a feat not easily accomplished given that they are competing to be the next leader of the world’s entertainment capital.  Yet, glitz and glamor aside, what do we take away from last night’s debate?  What did we, the LA voters, learn from their discussion?

While we may not have learned an extraordinary amount about LA’s economy, last night revealed that we are getting a clearer, more stable view of who the candidates are as potential leaders of the city, and we can look at their visions for, and approaches to, the economy for this robust depiction.  Starting the debate with the issue of bankruptcy—an issue with major implications for employees of large and small private business as well as city employees, the candidates asserted their identities early.  Now, there seemed to be a general consensus around the idea that a major component of the solution involves bringing in new revenue.  But, how we get this new revenue, where it comes from, and where it gets distributed become points of divergence for the candidates.

Now, we have seen idiosyncrasies of the candidates before, but now we see how they take shape in a space, UCLA, complicated by its Jekyll-Hide-esque identity as  home to both progressive liberalism and fiscal conservatism. Under this backdrop, Jan Perry, again, articulated her message of corporate-community relationships with an emphasis.  Her politics are by no means glamorous.  Whether it’s being honest with employees about pension cuts, forming  corporate partnerships to bring in more jobs, or being cautious about improvements recommended for LAX, we see that see that her politics are indeed very technical.  Her approach highlights her understanding of the city’s political game.

Wendy Gruel showed herself to be all that we can expect from a City Comptroller: a gritty watchdog.  Whether the issue was revenue, pensions, or even education, we found her fixated on locating any sort of corruptive practices or wasteful spending.  As the number of forums mount, we see Gruel growing in both poise and intensity.  She is becoming the candidate willing to do the “dirty work” without becoming sloppy and filth-infested. 

Eric Garcetti is developing as well into a candidate that is no longer just a guy with an extensive knowledge bank and good ideas but one of precision to match.  Last night, Garcetti found himself both ready,list-in-hand when queried about the various economic issues.  We see him transitioning from a guy with a vision for LA into a man with a plan for the city of Los Angeles.  He said, “the easiest place to be in a crisis is on the sidelines.”  This former military officer wants voters to believe that he was made for the trenches. 

James and Pleintez, perhaps, showed both the most growth and excitement.  The two long-shot candidates came out lambasting the other candidates for their attachment to a broken system.   James, despite recent news of the Super-Pac support he just started garnering, touted his lack of attachment to special interests groups.  Pleintez keyed in on his ties to the private sector and his humble beginnings in East LA.  These two candidates, arguably, have nothing to lose, and they came out swinging accordingly. 

So, were we blown away by highly innovative economic plans? No.  But, we did get another DNA sample of the candidates.  Thus, while we remain relatively unclear on what they will do if elected, we are getting more keen ideas of who they are as people, and luckily, it is the latter that may prove to be the most important.  

JC