Blessed in Los Angeles

Today I have the fortune to greet the readers of these pages yet again. While it’s been a quieter month than usual for the site lately, I can assure readers that it’s not because of a shortage of material to write about. On the contrary, there’s so much work going on behind the scenes with JIMBO TIMES that it makes just saying hello at this point something of a privilege.

When considering that today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the attacks of September 11th, ‘privilege’ is all the more apt of a term for the day: even after all this time with the ruthless spinning of the world through cities like New York and Los Angeles, we’ve survived, which makes the fact that we’re still here something of a miracle; at least, if I’ve got anything to say about it.

We’ve survived the world, together, and move forward with it in the same way: fighting against all odds for yet another day. ‘Fighting’ might seem like an exaggerated way to put it when we’re just on our way to the market for some Sunday shopping.

In a city as rich as Los Angeles, when driving past 21st century wealth shining off of million dollar cars and homes, who’s fighting, and for what?

But standing in line at the market to buy more milk and honey, as trivial as it seems, is part of fighting for a dream: a dream to end all dreams, in which our place in the world is not just some fantasy, but a fact of life burning as truly as Southern California sunshine. It will take every ounce of milk and honey possible.

Yet what a gorgeous backdrop of possibility to explore. As with the aisles of the market –or through the gravel of the road– every day I gain and lose a part of myself in this complex series of intersections, only to be led to more paths in which I’ll gain and lose again. At each turn, the choice over just what to make of the picture is mine. Today, I choose to call it a blessing.

But hey, that’s just The L.A. Storyteller for ya.

What do you make of your picture?