Chapter #12

[Scrap #1] - My accountant was addicted to cocaine. I'm sorry. I will pay you in cash. That was Barry. I had just left the 1st Federal Bank conveniently located on the Ocean Drive just down from my new house. A few days earlier I had deposited there a bounced check only to just discover that my account was overdrawn. I had spent the money already on the rent and the bank manager was furious. Barry kept saying that everything was fine and those were just small cash flow issues. He would be paying me in cash from now on. When he tried to pay the landlord for what turned out to be a three month overdue rent in a movie clip, I knew there were reasons to be worried. But Barry did pay me back and I wanted to believe in the vision. I did not want to go back look for a job in a restaurant and I did enjoy taking a bus to be part of the studio at Robertson and Freeway 10 filled with actor mice, mannequins, flying fish and an old TV set. Fangchou, Barry and I. Changing the future of the internet. We were finally somebody.

[Scrap #2] The best part about living in Santa Monica was that for seventy five cents of a fare and a fifteen minute bus ride, I could be in downtown Santa Monica. I could walk along the Third Street Promenade and then head to the ocean. With my Sony CD Player I would just walk through from the pier all the way to the Venice Beach. My feet cold from the ocean water. This was how I imagined this place when a few years earlier I sat down in front of my computer trying to find out online the names of hostels or details of the transportation. It was a different place from its photos. None of them showed the homeless but also none of the photos could reflect the chill of late night breeze of the smell of the ocean. The pier was not an image anymore but a living thing with its people, a man drawing your name in fancy fonts for or a one-man orchestra. They would for the next several weeks become my stopover on the way home, a moment of reflection, escape and a hope that at the end it was all going to be worth it.

[Scrap #3] I missed the simplicity of the desert. Monday mornings would always start with the lab and I did remember getting to school going through the 23rd then left at Pearl passing through a few kids that were on their way to school too. There was a campus police department building, international student club where I would pick up ads to look for a new place and then cross the street and straight to the class with Biology lab. There I made some friends, my lab mates Freddy, Emanuel and Kinga. Freddy would take bus from downtown Los Angeles and he wanted to get into UCLA. The bio teacher was a young guy of Armenian descend who would specialise in Marine biology. There were going to be quizzes every week. Then there was a pol sci class (Ferdie was also there) with a teacher who did seem like he rather be somewhere else. At his first class a man started shouting that the teacher was hired by the CIA to indoctrinate the students. On the way back I would pass through [x] street with sidewalk made in parts of sinking rubber tiles to accommodate overgrowing roots of the nearby [x] trees. 

[Scrap #4] Emmy would cook dinner on a daily basis. It wasn't too great, usually spaghetti with some meatballs and running sauce, but it was food after all which helped me to save some money. The rent was 600 dollars and my room was quite spacious. There was a nicely sized bed in the middle, and a wooden desk in the corner, built-in wardrobe and a small TV in the corner from which I would be watching daily night shows of Charlie Rose, Connan O'Brian or Oprah. The other bedroom was occupied by Emmy's daughter and Emmy herself would either sleep on the couch in the living room or a made up bed place in a small closet underneath stairs leading to the second floor. She would either watch Turkish comedy shows, often with her Turkish friend Arkan, coming in through the satellite dish located in the front garden or listen to one of those talk radio stations with conspiracy theories. All of that accompanied by a constant smoking, smell of which was sunk into every corner of the apartment. There was a laundry place but students (me) would need to pack their clothes and walk down the street to the laundromat.

[Scrap #5] On Saturday mornings I would pack my clothes into a basket and carry it under my arm into the laundromat. The Ocean Park Boulevard was located on the south side of Santa Monica so it was missing some of the glamour of its northern part filled with nice restaurants and coffee shops filled with people relaxing in the sun. There was a liquor store in just next to Emmy's house, further up a motel. The laundromat was one block down towards the ocean. The air would occasionally be punctured by the sound of engines coming from private jets taking off the nearby airport. The breeze would often bring chilling mist and overcast. There was a library located just opposite of the laundromat so after putting the coins in the laundry I would head there to read books or browse the internet looking for love and new connections. Later I would take the bus down to the beach and walk from Santa Monica to Venice while listening to my CD player listening to Perfect. My room had a terrible reception and no wi-fi so in the evenings I would walk back to the college to a pay phone to call home.

[Scrap #6] There were two bus networks I could use to get to Barry's office - Los Angeles' Metropolitan Network and Santa Monica's Blue Bus. You could change from one to another with some extra transfer fee so I would sometimes combine the two on my way back from work. The bus number 30 would take me from a stop at Venice Boulevard all the way to Santa Monica. There I could change to number Blue Bus No.8 which would take me straight to Emmy's place. Before getting on board I would take a bit of break and walk around downtown. Evenings were cool but still nice, the ocean waves and 3rd Street Promenade with the sounds of last musicians and occasional White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks to reward myself for the day. The sweet taste would add to the feeling of being there and then. There was a man in a suit sitting on a bench near the bus stop having a friendly conversation with a homeless man. Even when the MTA buses went on thirty day strike I would still take the Blue Bus's number 7 from Pico Boulevard and didn't get off until downtown just to smell the ocean.

[Scrap #7] Barry's office was an Apple computer, big screen, a lamp that would turn itself off or on with a touch. Three rooms. A living room with a couch, old radio set and a painting. A kitchen with mice, those were the actors. Smell everywhere. In the adjacent room there was another room where Fang Choi would work on his graphic design. At the beginning there was another guy. I once gave him a ride back to Downtown Los Angeles in Barry's Toyota SUV. My job was to come every evening and design new Flash animations. To create an interactive website that would bring Barry's work to the world. He was a former commercial director, a member of Director's guild. His neck was damaged in a helicopter crash while filming. There were fish flying in every part of the animation. And mice. And mannequins with voice overs and music mostly done by Barry. There were also some clips that were more structured. There were a few ideas. Create a mannequin that responds to your comment, play TV programs that would respond to your mood (intuitive TV) and mod-u-larity, a website to create movies. And we could write you a personal symphony.

[Scrap #8] Barry created a black and white video clip with scenes of Los Angeles from I guess 1920s. Amanda's Groove is playing in the background coming out of those futuristic looking speakers - long slightly rounded with small silver plates attached to them. If you see the sand dunes... The landlord is taking us the court for the three month of overdue rent and Barry's plan is to use the video to settle the bill. At some point the sheriff will get involved and order Barry out of the office. In the meantime, the money suddenly is still there but it continues to be a problem. It sometimes takes me a few phone calls to finally get Barry say he will pay me. But eventually he does and I keep coming back. He sees me as a person that will make things happen. At least that's what he tells Merylin, his wife, when she shows up. Her face carries concern every time she stops by our shack located at the exit from Freeway 10. She is a lawyer. I am working on embedding talking mannequins into an old TV frame. I am thinking of buying myself a pair of yellow shoes.

[Scrap #9] When with cash Barry liked to just give me a pile of money and make it count. We sat in his car in front of the bus stop at Pico Bouelvard waiting for the bus. I saw the bus coming in but I let it pass as I did enjoy speding time with him. Sometimes he would give me a ride all the way to Santa Monica. I would drive and Barry would take his guitar making up words on spot as other cars were passing us by. I would love to say we were driving towards the sunset but usually those were late hours. Once Em ran to my room screaming that there was a stalker outside the apartment and she was going to call the police. I looked through the window only to see that Barry never took off. He fell asleep behind the wheel while the car was running. His movies were not just of mice but also of a sleeping guy behind the counter at gas station. He would talk to trash cans. He captured those scenes on his small [HDI] video recorder. People came and went but I stayed. Out of desperation. Out of enjoyment.

[Scrap #10] The money now kept flowing in. If things continued that way I could afford the university and I would never have to work at a restaurant. I could finally afford ticket to Poland. I decided to surprise my parents and flew in to Poland for Christmas. It was a cold winter night when my plane had finally arrived in Wroclaw from Munich. I sat by myself in the train compartment listening to, with my red bag, thinking how improbable that was. Barry lent me his camera so I could film everything. Dominika, Ada and Kaziu waited for me at the platform. Ada drove me home with 'dimmed' lights. Mom just let me in when I dialed the intercom. Tomek had moved to London so it was going to be their first Christmas alone. I spent the one two years earlier with Akira in Tijuana and a one a year later at Byran's with Kevin. I had nice bathrobe with me, the one I bought at Santa Monica Promenade from Banana Republic. That was when I walked along the street with Akira, finally enjoying the lifestyle I could afford. It was just two weeks of what it felt to be rich.