Henry Is Blue

It’s not a city. It’s like eighty towns. It’s segregated. It’s a diverse mixed up hodgepodge. It’s private. It’s fake. It’s ugly. It’s secret. It’s flashy. It’s pop. It’s dramatic and self-narrativizing. It’s lens-oriented. It’s friendly. It’s indifferent. It’s aloof. It’s off-putting. It’s narcissistic. It’s unaware. It’s mindful. It’s forward-thinking. It’s incoherent. It’s provincial. It’s world-class. It’s square footage. It’s gentrified. It’s neglected. It’s bright. It’s alienation. It’s floral. It’s asphalt. It’s freeways. It’s hiking. It’s billboards and big signs and googie. It’s strip malls. It’s the Strip. It’s aspiration, desperation, and resignation. It’s history. It’s ignorance. It’s youth. It’s manifest destiny. It’s homelessness. It’s stoned. It’s Santa Anas. It’s fires. It’s drought. It’s earthquakes. It’s smog and haze. It’s Catalina island crisp on the horizon. It’s snow-capped mountains and hot springs in the desert. It’s broad beaches and surf. It’s sunglasses and flip flops. It’s vegetarians and vegans. It’s convertibles and Priuses and gardener trucks. It’s menus not in English. It’s mixed use. It’s small lot. It’s nimby and yimby. It’s yoga and dialysis and shopping carts. It’s reservoirs. It’s apartments and warehouses. It’s bungalows and villas. It’s tents and tarps and under-the-bridge. It’s private theaters. It’s swimming pools. It’s roof decks and balconies and yards. It’s hummingbirds and butterflies and bougainvillea. It’s avocado trees and avocado toast. It’s cactus and redwood. It’s concrete drainage ditch. It’s lemons and neroli. It’s loquat and passionfruit. It’s jacaranda and magnolia. It’s manicured. It’s unkempt. It’s breeze blocks and auto-shops. It’s taco trucks and rainbow umbrella fruit stands. It’s chicken and waffles. It’s hills and valleys. It’s distance and distant. It’s in your face. It’s never ending.