Two weeks have passed since I last posted to this blog because my trip to Mexico and subsequent turmoil of moving following my return, has kept me from my weekly commitment. I had never been to Mexico though I have been pretty much around the world but having grown up with the tough children of migrant workers who took great pleasure in beating up a white Jewish kid, I never had much pull to go south of the border. But, my friend wanted to take me, so I went. I found the people pleasant and the pace of life much different than Los Angeles.

We stayed with his friend who rented a three bedroom home at the foot of the ocean while she renovated her newly purchased home on the end of a point, like a little peninsula jutting out from this gated community of mostly Americans clustered by the sea. It was like being rich without being rich—as they say, the curse of the rich is to live among the rich. I prefer the action of LA to the serenity of Baja. All and all, we stayed for five days but my most memorable experience was my relationship with a bird. Not just a bird, but a big orange and green bird who had three dispositions: squawking, talking and silence.

Her name was Azula and she had big claws plus a bent and crooked beak which she used to tenuously move and eat. She was like a queen, having to be transported by means of rods and chairs, from one place to another. She had her time in the courtyard surrounded by walls, her perch in the kitchen and in her cage in the room where I slept. I would awake in the middle of the night to hear her gently cooing in the darkness. She would perch herself on chair directly opposite me when I prayed in the morning without uttering a word. But, as far as I could determine, she never picked up the Hebrew.

We left on Christmas day and found the border pretty empty with the exception of those who make their money by selling trinkets or by begging; what I found particularly disagreeable were the children who would come up to the window and press their pathetic little faces opposite me with a sad but put-on look. I refused to encourage such behavior and looked away heartlessly. The vibe was distinctly different in LA bustling with frantic activity. I do not want to spend my last days on this planet relaxing in the sun; I came here to get something done and time is running out—glad to be back in America.

I have moved into a house on Mt. Washington, closer to central LA and am hard at work making a movie and writing a script for another. Thank God, things just keep getting better and better, who would have thunk.


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