It’s Fourth of July and anyone in Los Angeles heading to see fireworks had better already be there. I can hear the first crackles and pops from Universal Studio’s display, and if I try, I could maybe see some twinkling star fire above my neighbors’ tree tops. But I’m not of a mind to angle for a better view. Nor did I spend the day eating hot dogs and potato chips at the beach. Too much trouble: too crowded, too much traffic. Way too hot.
I had a vague plan to catch up on housekeeping, errands and reading today. By the time I made it to my local coffeehouse at 10AM, I was “glowing.” By the time I made it to the patio with my coffee and muffin at 10:15AM, sweat was streaming down my back in rivulets. I didn’t have my glasses. This became a sign to go home and make use of the air conditioning that is eating up the savings from my gas bill; maybe I could get enough housework done so that my weekend can be chore-free. In the car, the radio played Paul Simon singing An American Tune:
We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest
I’ve always envisioned this song being sung by a lonely soldier, circa Viet Nam. I thought of a line from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried: “They carried all they could bear, and then some…” It was hard to shake the moment off. It was hard not to break down in tears.
A little later I saw high clouds drifting through the sky. A breeze picked up. I remembered hearing someone mention that fire-retardant was being sprayed around areas near local fireworks displays as a precaution against wildfires.
In the afternoon, I fell asleep reading House of Meetings by Martin Amis:
Yes, so far as the individual is concerned, Venus, it may very well be true that character is destiny. And the other way around. But on the larger scale character means nothing. On the larger scale, destiny is demographics; and demographics is a monster.
Later, I ran out to do some errands and encountered two bewildered drunks with red faces and paunchy, hairless bare chests being cuffed and stuffed into a squad car while peope stood around watching. As I pulled up to the curb in front of my house, a pair of runaways approached me. They wanted a ride into Hollywood. They’d been walking all the way from Sun Valley, they said. She had a vein in her leg that was killing her, she said. Four months pregnant, she added. She was bone thin and blue eyed with a wide red mouth under penciled-in black eyebrows. He was skinny too and heavily tattooed. The piercing at the side of his mouth appeared to be bothering him. They looked young and sweet and dumb, and like there was probably a good reason to be running away. I would have liked to give them a lift, but it would have been foolish to do so. You just don’t know what people are up too.
Like bad sex, the fireworks at Universal are over after about 20 minutes. The sky is illuminated with a creepy pink fluorescence. Nearby, someone has just shot off a high powered rifle three times. Sirens reply.
Hey baby, it’s the Fourth of July…Dave Alvin
Vox Pop Sudari 