Little girl, Big City

10pm 11.25.11

Scene:  Not a jazz club, Little Tokyo

A friend of mine from my last webhosting company was playing a show.  I had been wanting to support him but things had been very hectic over the past year.  I decided that night that it was finally the due date and hopped the bus out towards Little Tokyo.

I arrived to see several friends that I hadn’t seen in months.  Time gets away with you faster than you’d think.  There were so many smiling familiar faces.  I felt bad I hadn’t come sooner.

My friend and I headed up to the bar to get our drinks as the opening acts started to play.

A punk rock version of Power Rangers played by a girl with blue hair?

“This is awesome.” the friend said.

And act after act came on.  I was not entirely impressed.  The bar’s name made me believe that perhaps there would be jazz.  It felt as far from it as one could imagine.

I told the tale of our serendipitous couch surfing affair to my friend.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sign that screamed out at me.

“The Cocaine Loves You!”

But you weren’t there.  At least, not physically this time.  The irony of it all, was that was very likely where you were that night- off doing coke with your friends up in the valley as you had been doing several days out of the week since I’d arrived on that couch.

“I should know better.” I said as I continued to drink.

My friend smiled and just shook his head.

Why don’t I listen to my friends more often?

2pm 7.24.11

Scene: a shopping center in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles

“My old roommate moved out and took all the kitchen things.  I need dishes for my place.  I gave my Japanese china to a friend when I moved out of a storage awhile back.”

And so my friend from the south bay drifted to the one place I knew would have exactly what I’d wanted.

We walked past the rows of groceries.  I’ll get some gyoza after I have a pan to cook them with.

As we got to the dishes I ooo’d and ah’d like a little girl at a toy store.  What kind of a woman was I without having things to even cook my everyday foods?

I wanted everything to sync.  My dreams were garden inspired: strawberry plates, pots, and an apron to match. Roses lined the china bowls in varying sizes.  The baking wares would come later.

A smile drew across my face yet again.  I was finally going to have the responsibilities of my own kitchen.  I couldn’t wait to get home.

As we got to the counter my friend stopped me.

“I’ve got this.  You paid a lot to even get into that place.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I can do it.” I told him.

“No.  It’s really ok Jena.  You can get your baking stuff.  Just cook for me sometime?”

“Done.”

We packed up the car to go.  I hugged my friend.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you’re wonderful and you deserve it.”