Reflections on Blue in Green by Miles Davis
I listen to Blue in green by Miles Davis. I think to myself, why the title blue in green? As I watch the city of Los Angeles very closely from the bus window.
Homeless, homeless, murals, cars, drizzling rain.
I moved to L.A not thinking a goddamn thing to be very honest. Nothing separates me from the many others in this city. I know the boulevards from Pico to Olympic. I know the feeling of being scared in downtown. I know the shivers of the tiresome anxiety of not being good enough.
Rent control, poverty, Beverly Hills, housing crisis.
I come to Roxbury park to watch the children play while many others walk their dogs. I eat lunch with the sounds of joy, laughter and struggle. I wonder why so often trees to me are so fascinating. I experience some form of enchantment while I sit on my jacket and eat my lunch, looking up above at the comfort of my shade. On my long commute home, my encounters with different people make me smile. Sometimes they make me cry. At times I write. I think of the tough life they live, the people I commute with.
Single Mothers, Comedic Fathers, Drug Addicts, Abused women, wise kids.
Walking down Crenshaw Boulevard to Norton Ave, I see kids taking martial arts. I stop and take a video. I am happy looking at their parents outside watching their progress. I hear Latin music up ahead and I stop to watch the women taking Zumba classes to lose weight. I go inside and cheer them on. Across the street, there are AA meetings held for people in recovery. Not necessarily for drugs or alcohol. Sometimes people attend to talk about loss and grief. After work, I go inside and sit nearest to the door. I question if I ever would be able to talk about some of my experiences like them or constrain myself to my paper and ink for the rest of my life.
Maybe each and every one of us, even with the brightest days, we feel a sense of sadness. I don’t want to walk in anybody else’s shoes but mine because I know I can only handle my pain. Not theirs. Some of their green might be the drugs, their kids, their spouses, their imagination, their words. Their escape into a realm much farther away than their existence. The existence and the reality to keep pushing. And pushing. And pushing. Hiding their blues within their lush green yet somehow I can feel it. I can feel them.
I listen to Blue in green by Miles Davis. I think to myself, why the title blue in green? As I watch the city of Los Angeles very closely from the bus window.
