95.9 FM, the Fish, Driving Through Beverly Hills

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I’m driving a rental in L.A.  It’s a Ford Focus, the cheapest thing I could find.  Still has way more power than my Prius, so I still feel like I’m redlining every time I press the gas pedal.  This Focus has Microsoft SYNC, which is supposed to make connections to smartphones via Bluetooth bulletproof, except my phone, for whatever reason, will not connect.

So I’ve been relegated to listening to the radio.  After clicking through the channels, the one I found I liked the best was 95.9 FM, the Fish.  I found myself liking just about every song from this station.  It might be because many of them have these soaring melodies, almost Jim Steinmanian (that’s the guy who wrote those Meatloaf sagas, plus Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” etc.).  And then the DJ came on, Delilah, and she was talking about such deep, meaningful things, about the difficulties of life, the elusiveness of salvation, how we can find ourselves in this confusing universe of ours.  Wow, was this a cool station or what?  So very different.  Must be an L.A. thing.

And then came on a commercial about a movie I’d never heard before, War Room.

On the outside, Tony and Elizabeth Jordan seem to have it all—great jobs, a beautiful daughter and their dream home. But their appearances are deceiving: Tony relishes in his professional success and flirts with temptation, while Elizabeth resigns herself to increasing bitterness. Their marriage is on the verge of crumbling until their lives take an unexpected turn. When Elizabeth meets Miss Clara, she challenges Elizabeth to create a battle plan of prayer for her family by establishing a “war room.” This new film from the Kendrick brothers is a vivid reminder that prayer is powerful weapon.

The next song that came on was Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel,” and then I finally realized I’ve been listening to a Christian Rock station.

One strange thing about me is that I hardly ever listen to the lyrics of any song.  If I like a song a lot, then I’ll eventually pick up on the lyrics, but even with those, it’s entirely possible I just learn the words on a pure sound level; i.e., my brain isn’t actually processing anything.

Even stranger?  I’m still listening to the Fish.  What can I say, I like the music.

L.A. Stories

There are a lot of billboards in L.A., which probably comes as no surprise to anyone, since it’s a large city with lots of people.  What I did not know until I got here is that almost all the billboards are for TV and movies.  Here’s a collection.

I guess it makes sense, since Hollywood is the town’s biggest export.  But it’s just a little strange.

Speaking of strange — I took a drive up Sunset Boulevard this afternoon and climbed up Doheny Road, which led to the Doheny Estates.  Here are some photos from that little drive.

Initially, I found them impressive.  But as I kept seeing these monoliths of wealth and power, they creeped me out.  These people have such a ridiculous amount of everything…while on the streets, I see beggars, homeless people, mentally unwell people (the usual trifecta of the severely disadvantaged).  The L.A. elite live high up, like kings and queens atop their castle, looking down at the city, at their subjects, I suppose.  I don’t know.  We all know the world isn’t fair, but wow, you really see it here in Los Angeles.

It was on this drive up that I experienced one of my quintessential L.A. moments.  Because I was following my GPS, and because the road was very snaky, I was going slightly under the 25-MPH speed limit.  Right behind me was a guy in sunglasses in an Audi who was absolutely livid, and it was hilarious.  Hands flailing, head shaking, gesticulating wildly, he was like Ari Gold of Entourage come alive (“LLOYD!”).  When I finally signaled a right, he made a “good riddance” gesture, at which point I gave him a slow, measured wave.  I’d caught him off-guard — the whole time, he’d been assuming I was such a tourist dolt to witness his little angry show.  That earned me a very firm bird flip from this very L.A. gentleman.

My final stop in the evening was Venice Beach, which was quiet and dark and lovely.  I could listen to the breaking of waves all night long.  I’d read they had a boardwalk, but it’s really more like board asphalt.  How can they call it a boardwalk if there are no boards?  Maybe I’m just being a stubborn New Jerseyian, but when I think of boardwalks, I think of Seaside Heights, Point Pleasant, Atlantic City.  Real boards, made of wood!

Let’s just call L.A. an interesting place and leave it at that for now.