Page 185 - Louisiana Loop (manuscript Edition)
P. 185

Now I come from the Land of Good and Plenty where the stars are on the Street and the twinkle twinkle isn’t in the sky
         because at night the sparkle is what you see looking down from Mulholland Drive . TMZ isn’t the only thing out there
         taking shots at voyeurism on life and  when I think of “my ride” I don’t remember  the Dodge Charger from the Set of
         the Mod Squad I owned they had after running the Woodie off the cliff,…..no……..those were the good old days of a
         Southern California Son born and raised in LA and a genuine LAlien Californian.

         NO SINCE I LEFT CALIFORNIA IF YOU ASK ME ABOUT MY RIDE IT WILL BE ABOUT MY RIDE TO HELL
         AND BACK.aka GREYHOUND BUS.

         The boardwalk at Venice became a Slap of cement with torture chairs from Muscle Beach  daring me to try and sit or
         sleep 12 hours on them.  The babes on the beach and on skates in bikini’s became old women and grandma’s trying to
         move their seeming homeless possessions from one boarding line to another.  The Piers became gates and God knows if
         you went out that door you never know what was circling the end of the pier of outside the loading gates………

         Even the SS CATALINA had become a nightmare that resembled a dog and a silver streaker wanting someone to notice
         he had no clothes.

         Since I came from BIG LA, the FREEWAY,  OC and the  Valley I was used to sales pitches for  the latest greatest
         Discovery Channel or reality television show being pitched for inclusion in the next installment of Life as You record it,
         but even the paparazzi had changed to homeless on Wilshire Blvd sticking their hand out with cell phone attached to
         catch a Rodney King or OJ on the FREEWAY passing by or worse a SLOW SPEED CHASE going live by the chopper
         at KTLA 5.
                                                THEN I MET HOLLYWOOD.

         The entire nightmare of my ride to hell and back might have been an Oscar  for Stephen King had it not been for slick
         who contrary to west coast fast shuffle (or Crips and you know whose its) I could only Nickname “Hollywood” because
         somehow it just fit.

         It wasn’t like he was tinsel town itself because I’ve seen some Big Daddy’s done down and up with glit and sh,,,,t to
         make even the pimps play hooker to get some grief or relief, no……..Hollywood was normal and that’s what stood on in
         this nightmare.

         JOHN WAYNE he was not but he had his own way with wit and charm and I can tell you How Holly wood got his
         name. In a line of smelly humanity slept over in a wave of sweat odors and clothes needing to be washed two weeks
         ago……….HOLLYWOOD came walking out of the Men’s restroom not only smelling good, but looking better. He was
         fresh, he was smooooth, he  had lotion, he had motion, the man knew he was on the last leg of his trip and getting on that
         bus you would have thought he Fresh Prince of Bel Air had just arrived and guess who was sitting next to you……...In
         fact……...Hollywood was the only one who looked normal in  a Greyhound bus station and as unfazed by his ordeal as
         if he just got dropped off by Uber from Universal Studios.
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