Further exploration

So, in principle the function of our playing-hooky-on-a-Friday excursion was straightforward shopping -- there were a wealth of sample sales last weekend, and Dr. P. and I set out to sample said sales. She bought only a hat; I got a cool skirt and a tunicky dressy kind of thing, one that I'm pretty sure I can't teach in, although if it hits 90 again, maybe I will.

In any case, most of the places were downtown, either really downtown (there is an actual downtown here) or by the river. Dr. P. seriously misses New York, even calling herself a native New Yorker (this is entertaining in her faint Indian accent, but even more entertaining when she puts on a faux New York accent and throws in some Yiddish). I'd been downtown a bit before, mostly for visits to the textile district, where I got fabric for some curtains and also for a dress I think I'm never going to make, and also for musical and theatrical events, but we bopped around in slightly different places. And I have to say, I really like it down there. It reminds me, as much of this town does, of Oakland, except on a larger scale. There are people down there doing real business, with jewelry or clothes or fabric or other stuff. Not as many gold tooth places as downtown Oakland, though, at least not at first glance. And many of the excellent buildings from the 20s and 30s and 40s are still around, lending the streets style and flair. One thing I didn't care for in Spookytown was its physical limits -- within a year I felt that I'd explored almost everything I wanted to explore. Here, this town is so very vast and multilayered I think I could live here for years and still have a world of unexplored pockets awaiting discovery.

A taco truck stop off at MacArthur Park (of the famous song? perhaps, although no melting, or even drug use, visible in the midday sun) en route downtown showed that some buildings are more inherently patriotic than others: this one has not only the color scheme but also color placement of our beloved flag.
Downtown proper, there are lots of little, somewhat marginal businesses, many of which appear to cater to various immigrant communities. For some reason, I found the juxtposition of businesses below quite touching.
This one, less so. Sad to say, for the more mordant among us, not even one glass eye was displayed in Dr. Ross's window.
This family seems to barely be holding it together -- I get the feeling from the sign that business isn't all that great.
Across the street, this super-creepy Death figurine display was part of a Catholic religious accoutrements store that had a surprising amount of customers.
By contrast, Zoot Land, specialized as it is, appeared to be completely empty.
Some aspects of the downtown buildings were peculiarly Californian, especially this office building on a corner, which I will have to return to and document more fully at a time when there is not an expensive meter ticking. It has Italianate, somewhat Rococo decoration, but instead of the usual lions and griffins and whatever, the animals referenced the American West, with bison heads on the corners, and these long-horned steer skulls on the carving flanking the doorways. I was entranced.
This Zorba-esque mural is at least 5 stories high, and makes the adjacent parking lot much more pleasing. Although if parked there I might worry that Victor, if that is Victor, was about to step out of the wall and onto my vehicle, crushing it like a bug.
Further east lies the Coca Cola bottling plant, which takes up more than one building. The older one is built to resemble a ship, lord only knows why, since it's not adjacent to water, and Coca Cola is not necessarily related to seafaring, unless there's something I don't know. The newer plant, just next door, has golden tiled statuary niches in each corner, but instead of a Pharaoh or caryatid or some other ancient-type splendor, there is a massive, not particularly well-rendered bottle of Coke. Worship me, corn-syrup addicted consumers!
Even more dangerous is the meat-packing plant just around the corner.
I think this is the original home of Soylent Green. Click in to see the eyeless, mouthless faces of the consumer/victims. Ouch. Just across the street from People's Sausage, meanwhile, looks like it might be the place where they grow the consumer/victims.
Less frightening and just more pleasing overall are these shade providing fabric things (surely there is a technical term, but damned if I know it) adjacent to the bank where Dr. P. was engaged in a phone dispute over some specious charge. I entertained myself by taking lots of photographs, of which these are just a few.
I especially liked how they were reflected in the building next door, whose mirrored bottom part is angled such that you can see people entering and exiting the building. I so rarely see the top of people's heads: this is probably part of the reason I enjoyed it so much.
Different time and place for these last few shots, but also enjoyable, if a bit more West Side. This truck was spotted en route home from Malibu, and had no other markings anywhere. I haven't the faintest.
And the next day, this little guy or gal prevented me from slaking my thirst. I opted to hold out for beach lemonade.
While I was waiting for my beach companion, delayed in terrible traffic, I entertained myself by watching the throngs, some of whom are under strict control,
and enjoying the view of Santa Monica.
Which is, of course, quite lovely at sunset, like all the beaches here.
Oh Spookytown, there is simply no comparison.