jacob83brown's Xanga

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 23:05:10 GMT

Saturday before Easter,
Six dozen eggs boiled;
Pastels and newspaper,
Wire hangers twisted,
Around the kitchen table
Vinegar dye completed.

Mary Poppins and London’s grey horizon—
There’s the bird lady behind Father’s old bank,
Steps ‘round St. Paul’s Cathedral, smoky dawn.
Merton knows, Tell me, darlings, can God be in hell?
No one sees clearly before resurrection.

Saturday before Easter,
Fingers stained Chartreuse,
Hold my hand, dear lover
(Ubi amor Deus
Ibi est). Even’ vigil
Gladly we’ve found a truce.

                                                Holy Saturday
                                                         2007

Please see Selected Poems of Thomas Merton. New York: New Directions, 1967.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 04:58:57 GMT

Three cathedrals in time
And space. Paschal mysteries about me
Incense clouds and languages I know not.

Night falls and I feel the draft,
(La Iglesias of downtown, each its own spirit)
The gold line station isn’t too far.

One, a fortress; the other, sold, as a theater;
Third, a sanctuary, running out, fading and floating
Until the angels return to the streets.

Via Crucis this afternoon
Three trees block our view
The great cloud of witnesses. We

Walk by city hall and look upon the wall--
A mural with Jesus being taken down.
Mary watches even now, in mosaic.

14 stations viewed from the 13th floor,
My co-workers on the roof are watching us walk;
Tents and sleepers let me pass.

Words face the gently sloping hills of assigned unexpected friendship.
The saints call out through the bright lights and shuffling steps.
The Sabbath begins on the train ride home.

Good Friday
2007

Friday, March 09, 2007

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 06:40:56 GMT

hanging out on the roof (thirteenth floor)
on my 15 minute afternoon break

8:10 AM arrived on the elevator
heading to the 11th floor
it shook and dropped down started
up again, again dropped
and stopped
refused to move

I pressed the open door, close door
stop and emergency button

I pressed the "in case of emergency push to talk"
a speaker sounded out
that dull dial tone

and I waited to hear the voice on the other end
as the machine connected I heard the line ring
ring only once

you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
please hang up and try again.
I stared at the smooth metal panel with the single button

impossible to hang up or try again
I turned to admire the grafitti scratched
on the walls of my room

I'm here in elevator no. 3
and its stuck between floors
and the doors won't open.

file the complaint with the building manager

we're standing there on the roof,
their smokes in hand
bureaucrat badges on lanyards

watching a helicopter hover
over city hall as superheroes
and extras run around a fictional disaster

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Sun, 11 Feb 2007 21:31:00 GMT

Both yesterday and today as I was walking up the steps to my bureaucrat's office, crossing the modern patio before going in the side doors, I looked up to the sky and watched a low-flying jetlinerz carry its passengers directly over my building in downtown L.A. Probably bound for a place I'd like to visit. It is unnerving to see the exact same type of plane in the exact same place at the exact same time, two days in a row. like being struck by lightning twice, or groundhog day with Bill Murray.

While I was talking with my boss in a meeting about hate crime victims, four helicopters, in formation, flew across the large panoramic window in his office. We're on the crest of a hill, on the 11th floor, so they were just about eye level.

There's a subway stop behind my office--civic center station on the red line if you want to visit--on the platform it has audio of birds chirping in a way that gives the illusion of flight. When you look up to see the birds, instead there are 5 or 6 mannequins, stretched out in human flight, shoeless in jeans and colorful t-shirts. It is some permanent art exhibit for the Los Angeles transportation authority.

Anyway, because of the aforementioned hill, and maybe the fault divided earth, the subway platform is rather deep beneath the surface streets. The stop has the largest escalator I have ever seen, easily six stories straight down into the ground. I didn't want to miss the 5:37 train that could hear, breaks screeching, underground wind blowing, into the civic center stop, so I ran down the escalator, across the mezzanine, down the other escalator (this time a standard single story) and threw my arms and bag between the closing door of the subway. And the doors slammed closed on my arms; shuddered and opened again allowing me to enter. An old man with a shabby suit jacket standing right in front of me said "you're lucky" and the rest of the crowded subway welcomed me with amused smiles.

As I was standing on the open air platform waiting for the 5:50 express gold line train home at Union Station, The Goodyear Blimp drifted across my horizon. The train was already in the station, and all the passengers were qeued up to board. One by one, heads began to turn, to follow the notorious blimp with its large flashing sign and two smaller airplanes circling round about like angels. As I and my fellow passengers looked up at the blimp, the train departed empty, with no one inside. The doors had never opened.

As for me, I keep working.

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 05:17:46 GMT

I make regular visits to obscure LAPD offices.

Last month, I took the bus to the 77th street station in South Central for a meeting about community response to racially motivated gang violence. In the midst of "hard core gang prosecutors" and station chiefs discussing violence between Blacks and Latinos in Los Angeles, the ghetto bird came home to roost. The shadows spinning across the windows, the noise of the rotors interrupted angry platitudes about eliminating every gang member in Los Angeles. Needless to say, I felt out of place.

Today was a little more mundane. 13 blocks south on Broadway, I arranged to meet a LAPD Detective and pick up a bundle of police reports coded as hate crimes. I wore my county badge, suit jacket and tried to look respectable as I entered the 5th floor major crimes detective unit. I felt like I was in limbo on the other side of the T.V. screen, in some prime-time crime drama. Anyway, I picked up the reports from the detective. It was a bright and multi-cultural feeling office, with a nice view.

I skimmed through a few of the crimes--it is a shocking thing to read of violence in the technical, straightforward, simple words of a police report. Suspects and victims.

So that's what the taxpayers have me doing. Since federal taxes fund 1/4 of the county budget, I think most of you are technically paying my salary. I'm trying to keep you updated.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 06:16:13 GMT

December 12, 2006

The Los Angeles County Commission on Human Relations
Hall of Records - Suite 1184
320 West Temple Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012

Dear Friends,
Hello from my new job.
I'm working for the Los Angeles County Commission on Human Relations.
Say that ten times fast. I am a member of the union, SEIU local 660,
I have a pension and a retirement savings matching plan. Good thing I'm
wearing a tie.

Peace,
Jacob

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 18:02:29 GMT

Morning Commute:

There’s a little break room next to the subway tracks in Union Station where the subway operators sit and drink coffee and talk shit and generally do what conductors do. This morning as I was waiting for the train, a couple of the drivers were standing around joking, and as the subway pulled into the station, the conductor, a middle aged black woman, stuck her head out the window and got the attention of the other subway drivers. Then she burst into that classic song, “All my friends drive a low-rider.”

I guess that subways are, literally, the most low-riding vehicles.

So that means that I cruise to work in downtown L.A. every day on a low rider.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Tue, 29 Aug 2006 15:23:37 GMT

Dear friends,

I've been looking for a job for a while... and finally found one.

It is in downtown L.A. at the Oviatt building--a wonderful art deco castle.

Which makes it all the more exciting.

It is with Physicians for Social Responsibility,

a fundraising-front for a radical leftist movement in Central America.

Just joking. They work on public health issues and anti-war, anti-nuclear stuff.

And, I have an apartment now. It is easy to get to from anywhere in the world. all you have to do is get to Los Angeles, then you can take the Gold Line subway train to the Lake Avenue stop and walk two blocks. Give me a call if you're going to stop by for dinner.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Sat, 08 Jul 2006 16:40:40 GMT

so I'm here in Los Angeles

with hanna at the dodgers game. we had really nice free seats,
right next to first base line. as you can see, I'm becoming a loyal
dogers fan already. wearing blue.

Here's a few from graduation: one of the family

and one of katie--"the bandit"

peace