The Hazel Project

Dave takes me through a ‘thoroughly modern kitchen’. I notice a cereal bowl next to a box of banana nut flakes resting on the stove.

It had the vibe of cereal being a great idea until Dave found out there was no milk in the house. Then he got pissed off that breakfast wasn’t working out so he just left the cereal out in protest; and as
a reminder that he’d have to drive the Sentra to pick up some milk.

I notice a bad smell. Its a trash can that managed to breed fruit flies. Looked like fruit had been in there rotting for 3 weeks. All I could see were black banana peels.

He opens his back door to a tiny porch with a black PVC pipe railing.
The little porch overlooked His back yard, & overlooked the most amazing view of L.A. I’ve seen from Echo Park. To his right he had full view of Griffith park and the Hollywood sign. He could see Studio City and Century City, and to his left, all the way beyond Santa Monica to the Pacific. His house just happens to be on a very high hill that overlooks everything without obstruction. Breathtaking.

He finally remembers meeting me and exclaims,

“OHHHHH you’re the guy with VW and the broken locks!”

“That’s me.” was all I could get out because the view really left me speechless.

I pull a chair out and decide to ask Dave some questions about his
own story, since we’ve already covered the Sentra and his Real Estate adventures.

I finally think of a good question and ask Dave about some of the pictures I saw in his house of him in uniform. I ask, “What war were you in Dave, Viet Nam, Korea?”

He laughs and said,

“Spanish American.”

And that was that. He mumbles about the current adminsitration in protest and anger. I respond to mostly let him get a few drinks through his drilled out cork.

This seems to cool him off a bit and he offers me a proposition.

“I know a guy that’s a locksmith and he’s a good friend, I bet he’ll fix your lock for $25.”

“In return for hooking you up with my friend, you know it’s like a service, all I want are some Bagels.”

“Bagels?” I ask. “What kind of Bagels, Dave. Plain, everything, cinnomon raisin?”

“One of each” he says.

I laugh and repeat out loud, “bagels”, shaking my head in disbelief.

The doorbell rings.

Dave begins to politely cuss. It’s someone he’s expecting, but he was just begining to have some thoughts that made sense to himself.
He’s frustrated for a few seconds and is waiting for an answer from me about the bagels.

We make our way back through his house and Dave tells me to write my name down on a sheet of paper. Dave doesn’t have any blank paper. I’m doing good to find a pen & write my name and number on the DVD instructions on top of the TV. Dave opens the door and it’s Ron, the handy man/ Dave’s friend I ease out door between the two of them into the sunlight.

Dave immediately goes into a story that left Ron hanging last time.

“They kicked me out of the VA.” Dave says, with a lot more cussing than I wrote here.

“Dave, they can kick you out of the program to quit smoking, but they can’t kick you out of the VA.” Ron explains with a lot more cussing than I wrote here.

Dave staggers outside to listen more intently but Ron’s explanation is lost on him.

Turns out Dave doesn’t really want a good explanation or reason he just wants a cigarette.

Ron obliges with a Marlboro Red and they spend no less than thirty seconds lighting it because the sunlight is brighter than the lighter flame.

I excuse myself and head down the street for my computer reuse treasure.

Dave and Ron begin to discuss a project about a lemon tree in the backyard.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Stephen A. Thomas

This entry was posted on Friday, September 22nd, 2006 at 12:04 pm and is filed under on the path, posts & stories . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.