... Melrose on the fly ...

... I'm not certain how to assess the extent to which I was seduced by the typical tapestry of Los Angeles media subtlety ... the billboards were everywhere and I developed an unexpected urge to see Iron Man 2 ... on opening weekend no less ... the character of the City of Angels hasn't changed much since I lived there for a brief stint some years ago ... and while Melrose Avenue has seen significant transitions, it remains as good a place as any to get a taste of the place if time is limited ...














... three or four years flew by since I last had the luxury of an afternoon to kill in L.A. ... the ubiquitous Christian Audigier namecheck and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art banners hyping Renoir's 20th Century work served to remind me that splash is expected with any type of product here ... and ... that this is no one-horse town ...

... there are more cars in L.A. these days fo' sho ... and more people passing through from elsewhere ... I somehow knew I'd run into a familiar face ... that it happened in a vintage emporium called Wasteland means what exactly? ...














... though I've heard L.A. called a land of waste, it's not that it is an actual "wasteland" ... indeed ... here there's a penchant for re-selling used clothing and it spills out from the stores into impromptu street-marts set up in parking lots and sidestreets ...













... in this urban fame capital I saw no celebs but trod where one of the biggest of 'em all walked ... MJ loved the appropriately named quaint little landmark at 7325 Melrose ... Off The Wall Antiques and Weird Stuff ... which for all it's worth resembles a glorified ye-olde-pawn-shoppe ... or ... judging by that day's sidewalk display, perhaps that should be prawn? ...














... with so much style for sale there's no shortage of takers for a quick hit of the spotlight ... the glam lure conspires to attract everyone ... not just on screen but in print ... glossy free street mags could be found in every-other shop along my route that warm afternoon ... seems ev'rybody be lookin' for copy, bylines or portfolio ... one curbside fashion shoot invited my gaze and didn't care how long I gawked ...













... some peeps make their noise with a flashy ride and a look-at-me attitude ... no fewer than five LAPD cruisers were drawn to the driver of this white rolling statement ... just another live act in the land of showbiz ... requisite paparazzi kneeled in the middle of traffic for long-lens shots but I couldn't identify the perp ... I do know that it wasn't Rodney King or O. J. Simpson ... nor did it appear to be David Hasselhoff or a Lohan ...














... in the time it took me to walk to my easternmost turnaround point and head back westward, the billboards I had noticed earlier were screaming the release of Hollywood's next blockbuster, Sex And The City 2, electronically flipping between present hype and ever-present next big thing ...

... as if life was imitating art, I espied a scene seemingly inspired by Carrie Bradshaw herself ... fit legs, fine threads 'n' all, conjuring images of 8th Avenue in Manhattan, or Fifth ... a passing Lexus flossin' a Florida license plate underlined the American cosmopolitanism of the Golden State ...














... this guy was late for class ... perhaps very late I mused ...














... still, here's betting he knew Melrose Avenue more than I ... may've even watched the 1,200,000 sq. ft. Pacific Design Center go up in the seventies ... he prob'ly saw it get added onto in the eighties, and knew what building was there before that ...














... the structure sometimes referred to as The Blue Whale occupies a long city block ... my tired legs could attest ... fittingly the nostalgic stroll ended near there, the diversity of facilities within mirroring the diversity of sights and experiences of a few hours out 'n' about on Melrose ... I could do it again and come up with an entirely different report ...

... ah well, nex' trip ...

... maple magic ... and music ...

... even though I periodically take a break from caffeine by giving up coffee for months at a time I count myself among those addicted to the brown brew ... medium-strong with a little honey for sweetener is how I take it ... no milk, mochas or macchiato to alter the experience for me ... then the unthinkable happened ... I tried a Canadian grind called Muskoka Maple which hails from Huntsville, Ontario ... there's something about maple sweetness that warms those of us who have spent significant time in this cold country on the edge of the habitable world ...

... the maple leaf imprimateur was everywhere when I got off the plane in Vancouver ... a cultural identifier amplified by the Winter Olympics roadshow which just blew through town ... my American-Airlines itinerary routed me through Miami and Dallas so it felt pleasantly drama-free to meet a receptive Canadian welcome and a freestanding, bar-code reading dalek machine that accepted my declarations at face-value ... admitting me readily to the country of my citizenship ...














... the Swiss-effect passport and experiences like that civil re-entry are big deals to people from other countries and those who have travelled to other countries ... call me naive but I believe that's most of us ... then ... give a thought to the folks who have yet to travel beyond their own borders ... their relationships with home soil are naturally ... colloidal ... where prejudice, pride and protectiveness may feature but ... make no mistake ... the national identity of contemporary Canada is maple-sweetened and strikingly nuanced with complex diversity at the same time ...

... I was here in Hollywood North on business ... usually more than enough reason to do my thing without pausing to smell the cherry blossoms or to regard the grander signs sent to ease the preoccupied mind ... but as fate would have it ... I was about to be treated to some maple magic without actively seeking it out ...













... "so you're an actor ... what restaurant do you work at?..." goes the joke which came to mind when I was approached backstage by Mark Burgess (Dr. Jeremy Franklin on Stargate Universe) ... we worked together in a restaurant a lifetime ago ... it had been many moons since we last saw each other and ... coincidentally ... our former co-worker Jowi Taylor was also in town ...

... Uganda-born Jowi (a Luo name meaning "buffalo") shared mix-tapes with me back in the day before we went in different directions ... I persist as an actor and he has become an alchemist of sorts ... a manufacturer of sacred relics ... a Canadian consciousness-raiser-on-a-mission ... an honorary Buffalo Soldier fighting the good fight with his media-art ... he's most famous perhaps for a guitar made up of sixty-plus pieces of Canadiana which has come to symbolize the national DNA to the extent that it tirelessly tours the country to be experienced, posed with and played by many ... the Canadian Mint even honored the effort with a commemorative coin shaped like a guitar pick ...









... nuff respec' Jowi ... only the passion of a person inspired by the sometimes ill-defined chromosomal weave of Canada could have conceptualised such disparate components into a whole greater than the sum of its parts ... the six string nation guitar ...

... a canoe paddle belonging to Pierre Trudeau ... the only piece ever taken from the three hundred year old Golden Spruce of Haida Gwaii ... Great Bear Lake rock, whale bone, antlers, iconic hockey keepsakes ... pieces of a prairie grain-elevator and the Newfoundland lighthouse that recieved the Titanic distress signal ... black cowboy John Ware, Metis rebel Louis Riel and author Lucy Maud Montgomery are represented, as are Acadian, Doukhobor, Africville artifacts, Montreal club memorabilia and plenty more ... comprising this tangible living history ... I felt compelled to imbue this comprehensive statement with my energy ... and get something intangible in return ...













... Gordon Lightfoot, Colin James, Steven Fearing ... the list of talented players making music on this labour-of-love is long ... I like to think each one finds extra inspiration in the instrument and leaves a bit of soul in the hallowed hollow of Voyageur ... as the six-string-nation guitar is now known ...

... maybe the next strummer will vibe the noodling two-string Jamaica Farewell/Linstead Market melody I plucked out of it ...













... as if the reassuring emotional comfort in making Jamaican sounds on this Canadian guitar, with renewed friendships, over a pint at a popular spot on a spring day in Vancouver wasn't enough ... I could also rest assured in the knowledge that friends in Ontario had sent me a large bag of Muskoka Maple coffee ... effectively bridging the width of this expansive country ... magic! ...

... big up y'self Canada!