Los Angeles, California
A while back, our mutual friend, Debra, asked Lydia and me if either of us had ever thought about getting a tattoo. Lydia immediately said no. I said that I had considered it. The big surprise was when Debra came back saying that she had, as well. I doubt if there was much surprise engendered by learning that I had considered it, but Debra? She doesn't seem like the tattoo type, though I am sure I am dating myself by revealing that I think there is such a thing. Tattoos are now ubiquitous on women, starting with the tramp stamp and progressing to sleeves. In the salsa world, there is an abundance of tattoos, and that might be a random sample of the world at large, or at least Los Angeles at large.
This all came back to me tonight as I was watching Thelma and Louise. I love Thelma and Louise, which is probably inconsistent with who I am, though with tastes that lean towards watching Downton Abbey, reading The Spellman Files + listening to both A Prairie Home Companion + Dodgers baseball games on the radio, my choice of entertainment may be hard to pin down. Anyway, I love Thelma and Louise. I love the unraveling of their journey, and the way it all gets looser, including the look of both of them, as their story tumults towards the end. And it's got some great lines in it, like when Thelma states something like Call me crazy, but I think I've got a knack for this sh*t, after they lock the state trooper into his trunk.
Even though (spoiler alert!!) the girls don't make it, it is nevertheless a story of survival and confronting what crosses their path. It's about their finding the strength within them. I could go on, but it's Thelma and Louise. If you don't know it, or you couldn't figure out what it was about when you saw it, maybe you should watch it (again + again, as I do).
So, as I was watching it tonight, I thought of another tattoo. My fantasy tattoo is a hibiscus. I once had one drawn on my ankle when I was in Hawaii, freehand + in henna. It was beautiful and I grieved as it faded. So I thought about getting one, permanent. Then I remembered that my friend, Todd, told me that the anklet tattoo he got was so painful that he wanted to stop in the middle of it, but he was too vain to walk around with what would appear to be half a tattoo. So I put the ankle hibiscus on the back burner. Still, thinking about Thelma + Louise, I thought that the calligraphic initials, T+L would mean a lot to me. Not for the girls, but for my father and my uncle's initials-- two men who meant a great deal in my life. And that it would be emblematic of the courage and survival I have come hard to learn is essential in life.
Just after my life changed forever, Matthew, a member of the outlaws (in-laws) who, nevertheless remains in touch with me, showed me his most recent tattoo. It is of Hiroshima. Matthew is mixed Japanese-American, so I initially thought he felt that connection to it. But, he explained that he had gotten it because it reminds him daily that, regardless of whatever he is going through, someone else has had it worse. I don't think I need that reminder, though I do have to poke myself with it now and again. And it is true: T+L sail off into the sunset, because not everyone gets to go home like E.T. And while some of us may feel that a dark cloud is attached to us as we cope with whatever it is that the universe has thrown at us, that dark cloud is very different from Hiroshima's. So while I currently struggle with what feels like a total eclipse of my very own, I try to get a purchase on what I have accomplished so far. It has been more than two years of plain and simple hell. But, so far, I have survived. I have survived. And that is no small thing. I never want to go through anything like this again, but I have learned that I am stronger than I ever knew. Though, truth be told, I am far from thinking, like Thelma, that I've got a knack for this sh*t. While I have so far survived the journey, there were a vast amount of stretches on the road that I will always, always wish I could have detoured. But that is surely true of all of us, including Thelma. And, most certainly, Louise.
October 1, 2015
August 20, 2015
I Can't Buy That and I Don't Know How to Make It
Los Angeles, California
Joel and I were trying to decide where to go to dinner. Our default meal is always Mexican, best when he is the cook, though we have found a Mexican restaurant where he will eat without complaining that it is American-Mexican. I remind him that he is also that, having been born in Los Angeles, but he assures me that his forebearers and the years he lived in Mexico City, from the age of 6 to 21, made his soul, and palate, Mexican. And he doesn't like Americanized Mexican food. When I texted him a picture of tofu tamales from Whole Foods, he almost had a stroke.
We often eat in a Mexican restaurant in Pasadena which is not very good. Or at best, not very consistent. But then, we eat there on Monday nights, which is a bad restaurant night anyway. It is a salsa dance venue, so eating is not the purpose of the exercise. In clubs like this, there are always classes at the beginning of the night. That is how I, and many others in the LA salsa community, learned to dance. So, while class is going on we eat dinner, drinking a Dos Equis Amber (Joel) and tequila (me). Our server, Christie, knows us well and makes certain that Joel gets the salsa he likes, not the pico de gallo which is on the table for the chips. He is not a pico de gallo kind of man. She also makes sure I get a generous pour on my tequila, which I appreciate. A little tequila can help loosen you up for salsa dance. Too much makes you wobbly and that's not good. Salsa, like many other forms of dance, requires that each movement be made with intention. Too much tequila makes you waffle in that intention, much as in life, I'm afraid. Later, after a night of dancing, we walk past King Taco, stopping to buy a tamarindo agua fresca. It is something that I have recently discovered is delicious. Especially after a night of dancing when one is dehydrated.
We have found a good Mexican restaurant locally, Sol y Luna. Joel reports that he was gratified to find that both the mole and the chile verde are authentic. And he applauds the preparation of the beans which are creamy and topped with panela cheese. My only complaint is that beer and tequila are served in glasses so heavy you can barely lift them. But I enjoy watching Joel taste everything and evaluating its authenticity. They have housemade tortillas which is certainly a plus.
We have also found a hole-in-the-wall joint in a strip mall in the heart of Van Nuys which makes cemitas poblanas, which are these killer sandwiches on soft rolls. The restaurant is Cemitas Don Adrian. These fluffy-roll sandwiches contain meat with two kinds of cheese (there is also a salmon and a vegetarian version) and an herb that I have yet to identify or, at least, catagorize. They are huge and delicious. I could only eat half of my pollo adobado. Joel ordered the barbacoa, which he had been talking about since we passed a small storefront advrtising it, near Culver City. I want to go back and try the milanesa that they do with steak, pork or chicken. They didn't have the tamarindo aqua fresca. Joel got his jamaica, a very sweet ruby red drink which is made from hibiscus. He likes that more than the tamarindo. I got horchata, which always reminds me of Christmas as it is slightly reminiscent of egg nog.
But tonight we couldn't nail down where we wanted to eat. When he asked me where I wanted to go, I said I don't know. To that, Joel responded: I can't buy that and I don't know how to make it. I lit up at hearing that, grabbing my phone to make a notation of it on my memo page entitled Writing, and using it three times as soon as I could so I could get it into regular patter rotation. Meanwhile, Joel suggested Italian, but I don't have a decent Italian in my neighborhood. Besides the local Mexican restaurant, there is a good hamburger place with craft beers, and PF Chang's for Chinese, which is where we went. PF Chang's isn't a great chain. And they are wildly inconsistent from one to another. But we have found a good-enough one, which has comfortable booths and provides a healthy pour on my scotch (no small thing). We're big on dumplings and soup. But it was way too hot for soup, so we got spicy chicken, and garlic noodles. He had a Kirin, and I had a Glenlivet. We do Chinese well, but we stay away from dishes with a lot of vegetables, as Joel eats like a twelve-year old when it comes to vegetables. I have gotten him to eat artichokes, and also asparagus, both with lots of aioli. And he will eat salad. Some salads. But he won't even taste the many other vegetables that I enjoy. And he has a real hate on for tomatoes. In spite of that, tonight he had a hankering for Italian food. How is it that a tomato-hater can crave red-sauced, southern Italian food? I don't know! And, I can't buy that and I don't know how to make it...
Joel and I were trying to decide where to go to dinner. Our default meal is always Mexican, best when he is the cook, though we have found a Mexican restaurant where he will eat without complaining that it is American-Mexican. I remind him that he is also that, having been born in Los Angeles, but he assures me that his forebearers and the years he lived in Mexico City, from the age of 6 to 21, made his soul, and palate, Mexican. And he doesn't like Americanized Mexican food. When I texted him a picture of tofu tamales from Whole Foods, he almost had a stroke.
We often eat in a Mexican restaurant in Pasadena which is not very good. Or at best, not very consistent. But then, we eat there on Monday nights, which is a bad restaurant night anyway. It is a salsa dance venue, so eating is not the purpose of the exercise. In clubs like this, there are always classes at the beginning of the night. That is how I, and many others in the LA salsa community, learned to dance. So, while class is going on we eat dinner, drinking a Dos Equis Amber (Joel) and tequila (me). Our server, Christie, knows us well and makes certain that Joel gets the salsa he likes, not the pico de gallo which is on the table for the chips. He is not a pico de gallo kind of man. She also makes sure I get a generous pour on my tequila, which I appreciate. A little tequila can help loosen you up for salsa dance. Too much makes you wobbly and that's not good. Salsa, like many other forms of dance, requires that each movement be made with intention. Too much tequila makes you waffle in that intention, much as in life, I'm afraid. Later, after a night of dancing, we walk past King Taco, stopping to buy a tamarindo agua fresca. It is something that I have recently discovered is delicious. Especially after a night of dancing when one is dehydrated.
We have found a good Mexican restaurant locally, Sol y Luna. Joel reports that he was gratified to find that both the mole and the chile verde are authentic. And he applauds the preparation of the beans which are creamy and topped with panela cheese. My only complaint is that beer and tequila are served in glasses so heavy you can barely lift them. But I enjoy watching Joel taste everything and evaluating its authenticity. They have housemade tortillas which is certainly a plus.
We have also found a hole-in-the-wall joint in a strip mall in the heart of Van Nuys which makes cemitas poblanas, which are these killer sandwiches on soft rolls. The restaurant is Cemitas Don Adrian. These fluffy-roll sandwiches contain meat with two kinds of cheese (there is also a salmon and a vegetarian version) and an herb that I have yet to identify or, at least, catagorize. They are huge and delicious. I could only eat half of my pollo adobado. Joel ordered the barbacoa, which he had been talking about since we passed a small storefront advrtising it, near Culver City. I want to go back and try the milanesa that they do with steak, pork or chicken. They didn't have the tamarindo aqua fresca. Joel got his jamaica, a very sweet ruby red drink which is made from hibiscus. He likes that more than the tamarindo. I got horchata, which always reminds me of Christmas as it is slightly reminiscent of egg nog.
But tonight we couldn't nail down where we wanted to eat. When he asked me where I wanted to go, I said I don't know. To that, Joel responded: I can't buy that and I don't know how to make it. I lit up at hearing that, grabbing my phone to make a notation of it on my memo page entitled Writing, and using it three times as soon as I could so I could get it into regular patter rotation. Meanwhile, Joel suggested Italian, but I don't have a decent Italian in my neighborhood. Besides the local Mexican restaurant, there is a good hamburger place with craft beers, and PF Chang's for Chinese, which is where we went. PF Chang's isn't a great chain. And they are wildly inconsistent from one to another. But we have found a good-enough one, which has comfortable booths and provides a healthy pour on my scotch (no small thing). We're big on dumplings and soup. But it was way too hot for soup, so we got spicy chicken, and garlic noodles. He had a Kirin, and I had a Glenlivet. We do Chinese well, but we stay away from dishes with a lot of vegetables, as Joel eats like a twelve-year old when it comes to vegetables. I have gotten him to eat artichokes, and also asparagus, both with lots of aioli. And he will eat salad. Some salads. But he won't even taste the many other vegetables that I enjoy. And he has a real hate on for tomatoes. In spite of that, tonight he had a hankering for Italian food. How is it that a tomato-hater can crave red-sauced, southern Italian food? I don't know! And, I can't buy that and I don't know how to make it...
February 15, 2015
The Quotes
Los Angeles, California
Maybe if anything good is to come out of this, it is that we learn to take better care of our friends. Lydia
He had a right to do this, it was his life. And we have a right to be really fucking angry at him. Curt H
It doesn't define you, that he did this. It defines him. Carole
We will never know what he was thinking. But whatever drove him to this must have roots deep inside and way back in life. You must focus on living now. And forgiving. Max
I feel the sadness...Please do not let it consume you. Use the help, support and knowledge of those around you. David
It is a new year, and with your strength and "a little help from your friends" things will get better. Diana
Some people cope in unhealthy ways. Don't absorb their hurt. Your true friends have your back, and love and support you. Curt H
You mean the world to us and always will. I know someday we will be laughing together and having happier times together. Connie
You will find the strength you need. It comes from within; from friends; from wailing and showing your grief. With every day, be strong, you can do this. You can do this. Russell
You have been given the miserable task of living with this new reality. It will end up being a different life without your long companion...but you will find and attract more joy...a new positive life will unfold, one that you so deserve. Jim
Maybe if anything good is to come out of this, it is that we learn to take better care of our friends. Lydia
He had a right to do this, it was his life. And we have a right to be really fucking angry at him. Curt H
It doesn't define you, that he did this. It defines him. Carole
We will never know what he was thinking. But whatever drove him to this must have roots deep inside and way back in life. You must focus on living now. And forgiving. Max
I feel the sadness...Please do not let it consume you. Use the help, support and knowledge of those around you. David
It is a new year, and with your strength and "a little help from your friends" things will get better. Diana
Some people cope in unhealthy ways. Don't absorb their hurt. Your true friends have your back, and love and support you. Curt H
You mean the world to us and always will. I know someday we will be laughing together and having happier times together. Connie
You will find the strength you need. It comes from within; from friends; from wailing and showing your grief. With every day, be strong, you can do this. You can do this. Russell
You have been given the miserable task of living with this new reality. It will end up being a different life without your long companion...but you will find and attract more joy...a new positive life will unfold, one that you so deserve. Jim
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About Me
- Bronte Healy
- California, United States
- Once, I came up with this brilliant idea (well, I thought so, anyway) that the key to happiness was to concentrate on three things -- to choose three interests, then focus and funnel your energy into that trio. I was an English major in college and have always written in some shape or form. So, my first choice was writing. I've always kept journals, and have also written plays, novels, poetry, and shopping lists. I do have a day job. It deals with numbers (assets and finances). Go figure. I went to college at a California University. I live in California, Los Angeles, but not downtown. No children, and sadly, between dogs at the moment (dog person, not a cat person). Enough info? I was going for just enough to not be a cypher, yet not enough to entice a stalker. And, I started my blog after being dragged, kicking and screaming, to do so. Blogs! Read about ME here, right? But I have been advised that this is a way to write regularly, and to put your writing OUT THERE. So, here goes. My name is Bronte Healy. Thanks for reading my blog.