The Best Kind of [Street] Closure

LOS ANGELES - This week I finally got a better look at that green thing on Griffith Park Boulevard that I've driven past countless times since I began working in Silver Lake. First of all, it has a name: Sunset Triangle Plaza. And, lucky for Silver Lake residents, it's Los Angeles' first street-turned-pedestrian-plaza. On Wednesday the organization de LaB, which hosts an event once a month (or more) centered around a particular designer, invited some of the people behind this project to speak on its who-what-when-where-why. These people include Streets for People's Margot Ocañas and Anna Peccianti, Frank Clementi of Rios Clementi Hale Studios, and the president of the Los Angeles City Planning Commission, Bill Roschen. Interestingly, Streets for People is an initiative of the planning commission with the County Department of Public Health, who, obviously, promotes health and well being for LA County. So, aside from the fact that the plaza appeals to the eye (although some beg to differ), its purpose is to get people, including myself, moving a bit more. Considering that it opened more than a month ago, and I work less than a mile away, I could have walked there on one of my lunch breaks long ago…

In addition to the beckoning field of polka dots, Sunset Triangle features a line of potted plants at each end, like opposing rows of pieces on a chessboard; a basketball goal; the same tried and true moveable tables and chairs as the ones used in New York's pedestrian plazas; and only the second bike corral installed by LADOT. Wednesday's speakers confirmed that, since its unveiling on March 4, the space has been well received and, at least anecdotally, a boon to the shops that front the plaza. Apparently the kids like it too; a young girl was spotted hopscotching from one polka dot to the next. Cute.

As for the choice of green (Behr's Lemon Grass and Grape Green, for those who care), it was the result of a process of elimination, No Parking Red being one of the first eliminated.

The plaza is supposed to disappear in a year, but I wouldn't be surprised if it stays, as I think it should. If Angelenos can circumvent this street for a year, I don't see why they can't give it up for good—and for a good cause.

Frank Clementi of Clementi Hale Studios (far left) and Marissa Gluck of de LaB (center).

On Terry Gross

I finally Googled Terry Gross today. I've been curious about what she looks like for a while now. Of course she isn't at all what I imagined. In any case, her radio show, Fresh Air,  has significantly improved my hour to two-hour drives. Last night Terry interviewed Maya Rudolph. While I'm not that into her, the clip of her as Beyoncé telling LL Cool J about the birth of Blue Ivy made me laugh out loud, which I'm not prone to do alone in my car. Later I tried to reenact this for my boyfriend with little success. He and I have a lot of things in common, but "If I Were a Boy" is not one of them. Without further ado…

On Improv

Last night I received the following fortune in a fortune cookie:

Better is the enemy of good.

This fortune was appropriate for me for a number of reasons, but because I had my fourth improv class today, I will somehow relate the two in this post. To the two followers of my blog, be warned that, as an exercise, I am writing as quickly as I can while maintaining some kind of logic. My tendency is to spend a very very very long time on a post, but for what?

Improv. Improvisation. I was given the gift of improvisation—in the form of seven classes at iO West in Hollywood—literally, as a gift certificate, and I have gone to four out of five classes (you can miss two). I have learned a lot and realize every week that improv is very, very hard. There are moments in class where I just marvel at the art form, yes, I just called it an art form, and I want you to know why. Why it's an art form, and why I marvel at it. First of all, all you need is yourself and another person. Sure, a few more is good, but you only need two people to make this art form happen. My instructor Levin describes it as us, the improvisers, sharing with the audience part of something that is already going on somewhere in the world. I like to think of what's happening on stage as a parallel universe, and for however many minutes, the audience gets to be a voyeur into it. It reminds me of Belle's mirror in Beauty and the Beast ("Show me the beast!") But there is so much more to it.

What has been most challenging for me is letting go of my ego. I never really understood ego, but I think I'm finally beginning to. People who have interacted with me to some degree might see me as sarcastic, self-deprecating, hopefully funny. All of those things are not helpful in improv. Which is partly why improv is so hard for me. It is not about being funny. It is not about who has the best joke on stage. Rather, believable scenes played out on stage will, if we trust ourselves and our partner(s), be funny, because, as the book we were all given at the beginning of class says, "The truth is funny." Flashes of scenes are running through my mind as I write this. Flashes of scenes that were acted on the black stage of The Loft at iO, by various pairings and combinations of my fellow classmates, one week after the next, scenes that only existed in the flesh in that moment, at, say, 2:17pm on a Sunday afternoon, and never again, except in our memories, to be remembered later among ourselves and our instructors, but probably not even that. But back to my ego. The best way I can describe it is, I'm in a scene with you. We are to act out a scene, or rather, allow a scene to unfold. I might already be, for whatever reason, imagining a scene in which I'm playing a stewardess, and you a passenger. Because I think that is a manageable scene. Somehow I've managed to create an entire scene in a matter of seconds, but we are given a suggestion of "lawnmower" and suddenly the scene I had prepared is not right for "lawnmower." While I'm readjusting my mind to envision a lawnmower in my mind and generate associations with the word, the image, whatever, you have begun the scene (because I'm silently reorganizing my thoughts) and you say, "I know what to get Dad for his birthday!" And BAM—you are my sister or my daughter and our dad or my husband has a birthday coming up, and it could be lawnmower (or not at all), and what do I say now? Sure, I can say, "Great! What is it?" but now I am in this scene and I have to commit to whatever you give me, and man, we are nowhere near the airplane that I was envisioning earlier. I have no idea what you're going to say, but I have to listen very closely so that I respond, instead of exclaiming something fabulous that I thought of earlier, because then, I'm not being fair to you and only trying to make myself look good or inventive or whatever. But in improv, it's not about me, it's about you and me.

Over and over again, in trying to do something better—better than myself from five minutes ago, better than you, better than the group, I overlook doing something good or even doing anything at all.

Drafts

I don’t consider myself a blogger, but I do have a blog, and it’s a new year—such a new year, in fact, that it’s still okay to send new year cards…right?—so why not start blogging again, even if it’s only every three months?

I began Sit, Billy in September 2007 and since then have accumulated a number of draft posts, some of which I thought I would share, so I can delete them, finally.

Untitled (Excerpts from a chat session with “Megan F.” at j2 Global online support) (2008)
{Megan F.} I am sorry to hear that you wish to cancel. Can you please provide me with your Fax number which you wish to cancel and PIN for verification?
{Megan F.} I am waiting for your response.
{Megan F.} Ann, are you online with me?
{Ann} Sorry!
{Ann} OK

{Ann} I cannot be credited at all?
{Megan F.} I am sorry as per the records there is no refund applicable.
{Ann} (Are you a robot?)
{Ann} OK please just cancel my account.
{Megan F.} As per your request I will cancel your account with us immediately.

Laughing Out Loud (2009)
Living alone has been great. Living sans roommate also means lots of firsts, such as laughing out loud—alone. Which, in my opinion, is one of the best feelings in the world. So what's making me laugh out loud these days? A few things.
Ronna and Bev

Three Months Later (2010)
Yesterday I drove east to Upland to visit my best friend, who is visiting her parents. I met my friend and her parents in Claremont for lunch at Walter's Restaurant, where I ordered "bolawnies"—ground beef, potatoes and onions stuffed in a thin dough, deep-fried and served with fresh yogurt sauce—and a salad of fresh red beets, goat cheese and toasted walnuts in a raspberry citrus vinaigrette, both of which were good.

Fall Resolutions (2010)
Go to the Santa Monica farmers' market
Have my right bicycle pedal repaired
Finish the books I started

This made me chuckle.

Seems Whole Foods Venice has a secret copyeditor. Or could use a real one.

P.S. Avocado, milk, ice, and a pinch of sugar are all the ingredients you need for an avocado smoothie. No need for "Coconut water, Coconut nectar, Agave" if you ask me.

Staple Foods

Today, nearly 80 degrees and sunny, seemed like a good day to be outside (especially after reading about the hazards of the couch). So I finally went back to the Sunday Santa Monica Farmers' Market. I had been once before with my parents who were visiting for the first time since my move. The first time was of course novel and somewhat overwhelming. Surrounded by piles of watermelon radishes, fluffy omelets in the making and organic cotton onesies, I felt not unlike a tourist at a gift shop with an inexplicable need for a lighthouse or lobster magnet. This time, however, I had shed my tourist goggles and was able to amble more or less unaffected under the winter sun and leave with some staple foods, like fresh bread (a classic sourdough boule and French baguette from Ca’d’Oro Bakery) and chicken (two legs, two thighs). Which means one less trip to Whole Foods, which is always a good thing.

Some days...

eating a microwaved Filet-O-Fish is okay.
you just want to untag yourself from Facebook photos.
Morning Becomes Eclectic is too eclectic.
you forget to mail your Netflix disc.
you remember to mail your Netflix but haven't updated your queue.
the computer screen is too bright.
time zones are hard.
all lowercase seems more appropriate.
you want to clean your Gmail inbox, which is impossible.
you just don't know.