The Streets

I always have plans. I'm working on different writing projects perpetually it seems. I always have a number of blog post ideas brewing about in my head, or tiny collections of pieces that I'm trying to hammer into pocketbook style releases, or tiny collections of treatments or theories that are awaiting a similar pocketbook focus. I have a series of political-fiction graphic novels for which I'm still awaiting a collaborator. And my novel... I'm also working on an anniversary present that I may finish by Decemberween (only six months late).

I have one blog post idea about sap that was born on a rainy Saturday afternoon in December of 2012. After I actually write it up I'm sure I will be mostly disappointed and let down...after that kind of time of build up, what else could the results be? The piece be everything a writer always wants it to be?

So, with that interior battle playing out every time I feel like chilling out and watching a futbol game or taking a nap, like I'm wasting time if I'm not actively doing the housework or working on a project, I present today a loose outline of a section of a bigger (yet ultimately tiny) piece that isn't listed above.

I named this piece "The Streets", and it concerns the set of streets that define the area that Americans (and other folks who may live in other places but have cursory knowledge) understand as South Central Los Angeles; the zone of Boyz 'N the Hood and NWA...

I'm an outsider in the neighborhoods about which I'll be speaking and am able to eye it like a drunken westerner on an African safari. Only I'm not afforded the safety of the tourist van.

Early one day last October I set about sketching my morning bike ride, testing myself if I could remember all the names of the streets that I crossed daily. I exited the train at 103rd St in Watts. Watts is still a neighborhood that suffers from low socioeconomic status and political value. From there I would ride west along 103rd past Compton Ave over to Central Ave, where I'd turn left, and head south.

I rode down to 108th, where I'd turn right and start west again. 108th had a defined bike lane for a significant stretch.

Also, at the corner of 108th and Central Ave is the Maxine Waters Adult School, considered one of, if not the, most dangerous corners in all of the 'Hood. Someone I know was stabbed while waiting for unit recovery classes there.

Anyway, I would ride down 108th. The first light was McKinley, then Avalon, then San Pedro, then Main, then Broadway, then under the I-110 freeway, then Figueroa, then Hoover, then Vermont. I would turn left on Vermont, head south to 109th, turn right and head west to Normandie, where, very quickly I would be at my first location. The next major block past Normandie is Western.

Originally I would ride my bike back not through the neighborhood straight, rather I would ride along Imperial Hwy, from Normandie to Willowbrook, where I could pick up the train one stop south of where I debarked in the morning. I got to see these same streets--Normandie, Vermont, Hoover, Figueroa, Broadway, Main, San Pedro, Avalon, Central, and Compton in this reverse order but on Imperial.

Because of the feeling of impending doom on Imperial Hwy, this didn't last long, and soon I rode south past Imperial down to 120th and then turned east, cutting north for a block to get to the Willowbrook Metro stop. That simple change made a world of difference. 120th is still the 'Hood, with the capital 'H' and all, but it surely isn't the Crip-ruled battle zone that fills the residential area north of Imperial past 108th and up to surely the 90s, where the 103rd Hoovers battle with the encroaching Manchester Bloods.

Manchester is the next major east-west road north of 103rd and represents the next stop north on the LA Metro past Willowbrook, only there, on the east-side of Central Avenue, it's called Firestone. Our good friend and kitty-babysitter Victor, during his time growing up in the 'Hood, was close to Manchester and Western and has enlightened me on the Bloods in that area. In the neighborhoods I've described above, the majority are probably Crip territories, but this oversimplifies the nature of the gang landscape.

I exited the train at 103rd and headed west. My colleague exited at the same location and headed east, to his residency site, and through the Grape Park Crew territory; they're represented by anything purple. The Firestone/Florence side of Central is marked by more Latino organizations; whereas the Manchester/Centennial side, possibly due to it's proximity to Inglewood, sees a heavier black presence in the crews. There are huge (and I mean HUGE) projects right off the 103rd stop, stretching the distance between Compton and Central, and, to the south yet unconnected, there is an entire city of projects off Imperial Hwy, and these complicate the picture a bit.

So, that was my first, rather lengthy, trip over the streets in question: mostly Crip territory, and three (or four) separate venues, (103rd) 108th, Imperial, and 120th. It was in this territory that I picked up the moniker "Sherweezy".

After the change in residency, I found myself staying on the Metro a little longer: past 103rd and Firestone to either the next stop, Florence, or the stop after (which was slightly closer), Slauson. Slauson worked best for making the trip on foot, but Florence was the better stop for biking. This time, my location was again to the west, but far closer. I'd only have to cross Compton and head to Central. This neighborhood was certainly different than even a few miles south. Most every commercial establishment in the vicinity is Spanish only, and instead of Crips and Bloods bickering through gunfire, you have to deal with Florencia.

Somebody I know is trying to make his bones as a Futures. Futures what? I tried to piece together without asking...of course he meant Future Florencia. Also, a friend had told me, "You can't get off the train at Slauson! That's where my cousin got lit up! It's not safe with your bike, man!" I shrugged and reminded him, "That's okay...that's when I'm on foot."

He tried to convince Corrie to get me to change my residency, or means for getting around.

That added 61st and Gage to the list of cross streets for Compton and Central avenues.

So far these are two distinct neighborhoods that some folks call "ghettos". I refrain from using this term too often (and haven't yet in this entire piece so far), only because the people I meet there don't use it that much. They are, by any stretch of the imagination, exactly the kinds of neighborhoods that most people would consider warranting such a term, and are, by all observations, rough and tough. (The Crip zone is rougher by my measure.)

So now I have new gig, and I've been visiting. I haven't been driving just yet, and I take my bike on the bus, and have been riding home the entire way. It is a bit further that I'd like to ride in one stretch, but I could get used to it a few times a week, and in only one direction.

The new location, my third in less than twelve months, is on Western Ave, west of Normandie and Vermont. Only this time it's closer to 246th. So when I ride home, again I'm passing Normandie, Vermont, San Pedro and Avalon. Central dies at Del Amo, a reality I saw last summer with my bike commuting to my own classes.

But this neighborhood is just another kind of 'Hood. It may not be as ravaged by organized violent hoodlums, but it is lower socioeconomically, and it has many of the trappings that busted out and depressed neighborhoods have.

It is my desire to really organize these thoughts into a more cohesive thing, along with different impressions--about content, context, people, and organizations--from my time during this residency and the immediate aftermath.

Photos would be nice, too.

I forgot to mention a place I went for an interview. It was just off the train two stops past Slauson, at Washington. Here the neighborhood was far closer to the immediate downtown of Los Angeles, and the roads are all screwy, roughly resembling Greenwich Village (not the buildings, of course). I crossed Compton Ave again, for what's worth, at, like 24th St. Compton Avenue there was thinner than our own street here in Long Beach.

It's always a work in progress or a half-completed project...

Also: if any of my fine readers bust out a calculator, you may get an idea for my next post (by adding up the posts thus far...).