Personal observations of one writer. Frequent references to pop culture, blues music and lifetime truths.
Monday, August 13, 2012
I walk past the stately movie theater and read the marquee
once again. It's there, in all Capital letters,
SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED,
Is this the name of a film, or something necessitated
by the construction zone immediately next to the theater's entrance?
I've been wondering this for a couple of weeks now.
This aging Norma Desmond of a movie palace just might be protecting its patrons. This condo being built right next door to the theater is rife with cement blocks, nails, and all the scraps of metal and wood such a project can provide. The two are just a few feet apart. This condo will literally be backstage. (well, almost)
Then again, this warning phrase could just be a film title for the 8:25 showing.
Why the marquee?
People don't read the marquee standing under it.
Safety Not Guaranteed is the story of a disaffected WWII vet new to Los Angeles.
He begins his postwar career as a private investigator whose insomnia
Takes him over the hilly streets of Hollywood to the fast decaying but barely detectable LAPD.
Chinatown Olvera street, City Hall, Griffith Park, Hollywood Bowl, Brown Derby, Santa Claus Lane Parade, UCLA, Pacific Coast Highway, Santa Monica Pier, Mulholland Drive, and
He stalks them all...
Like the butter flavoring in the popcorn,
Like the wine stained allies,
the sidewalk in front of the theater,
Safety Not Guaranteed.
Retired from full-time teaching, moved to Portland, Or in July of '06 to write a memoir of late 1960s, fly-fish on weekdays and find a writing group. Book done, nice rainbow caught and released on a Tuesday, member of The Guttery, a successful Portland writing group.
Currently supervising and mentoring beginning teachers, reading, writing like never before, and living in the moment.