Gorgeous Garbage

When you think about it, it’s kind of crazy that we’re carrying on with our new-normal lives, even though we’re aware and horrified by what’s going on just a few miles outside our bubble. If you’re in Los Angeles.

See, I scroll my feed and it would appear that we’re oblivious — posting a new song, an artist we’re working with, a list of our kid’s accomplishments, (understandably) Brian and Sly, a picture of the sand dollar we found on the beach when we were happy just to take a walk on the sand. Guilty as charged!

My text threads reflect a different mood. It is code red. We’re just trying to share our social mediated joys as well. Because life goes on even while chaos ensues.

I had other plans for what to write today. But I sit poised at my computer and I’m thinking — Jesus … our country is caving before my eyes. I’m situated right smack in between Downtown LA and Ventura County where respectively the National Guard is looming over mostly peaceful protests and ICE agents are pulling workers off the fields. I drove by one of those fields today and there wasn’t a sole in sight. What will we do without avocados and strawberries?

To not stop my world and give pause to the cruelty — for this hijacking of what we believed to be a kind country that stood for (albeit) imperfect laws and due process just doesn’t feel right.

So instead of bragging about my new guitar I’m going to share a diversion that makes me smile amid the chaos.

For the last couple few years I’ve been photographing what I call Gorgeous Garbage. See there’s this moment when I’m peeling a carrot or hovering over the kitchen sink devouring a mango, when I stop to contemplate the beauty of what I was just about to toss into the compost.

I honor the service of the skin that holds the juice in our fruit. The vibrant colors and sensual textures of the remnants. The pits and cores and seeds inside their souls. The tougher ends of the asparagus (asparagii?) that have given their life so that we may enjoy the more tender tips. I pay my respects before I say good-bye.

What are you doing to cope? Or are you ok with it all? After all, this is what we (not me but “we” as a nation) voted for. I’m part of that nation. Those are the words that should be on protest signs: THIS IS WHAT WE VOTED FOR. To remind everyone that voting matters. Why are we surprised? This is what we voted for. And if you’re good with that Cue George Clooney/Good Night and Good Luck.

Can we turn things around? I seriously doubt it. But just when you thought it was auspicious to find that sand dollar you find so many more that you can’t possibly hold them all in your hand.