Like
so much of what happens to me these days, this bit starts with
something random. I'm walking down to the first floor unit of my
parents' duplex—It's empty, so we use it for storage because the city
thinks my parents are slumlords or something. I could go on and on
about that situation, but I'll leave that for another time—and there's
the flier for Jimmy Gomez for Assembly. I'm not big about politics in
particular but I try to keep up with local issues. I know with
redistricting they've made one big district of most of Northeast Los
Angeles, and I'm curious to see how that turns out. Jimmy Gomez made
the first move by putting up a flier on the door of a vacant apartment,
so I might as well check out Jimmy Gomez firsthand at a March 3, 2012
coffee meet and greet in a home out by the Southwest Museum.
I
wake up and drive out there; it's a narrow winding road up to Rustic
Drive and I pass by the house only noting in passing the smallish photo
of Jimmy Gomez taped up to the mailbox. There's no room to turn around
until I do a U-turn at the next intersection. Swinging around back I
find a space to park; I know I should have just walked to this event,
but forgive me I really don't like walking up hills. I smoke in front
of the house admiring the general nature of the neighborhood; it's like a
different world from the other side of the hill where I live. There's
even a new home under construction a few houses from where I stand; I
don't know who can actually afford to build a home in the city. My
parents went for that years ago failing miserably when permits were not
approved.