kite flying

Today I went running, through the streets of Pasadena down the olde town main drag, over the bridge that crosses next to the Ritz Carlton, onto the trail next to the riverbed and into the vast Brookside Park that rests, cultivated, alongside the monstrous Rose Bowl. As I walked off some of the jogging, I noticed a baseball diamond where a game was being played, so I climbed the staircase to the bleachers and sat in the sun amongst the players' family and friends to watch the game. Suddenly a shadow darkened my vision and moved across the ground, I thought it was a bird until I heard a flat plastic crash in the bushes behind me. I looked to see what it was and saw a run of string tying the trees together, leading to a little triangle of colors upside down on the ground down the stairs from me. The kite just lay there, like a lost child, it's string drifting in the wind. I figured someone would come find it, so I turned back to watch the game. A few minutes passed, and I realized nobody was coming. Maybe I could bring it to them? So I stood up and descended to the thing. I picked it up and felt it's plastic body immediately press against mine as the wind caught its wings. I had to push it off, but it persisted to wrap itself around me, his new master. I found the string and began rolling it around my palm, pulling it from the twigs of the bush and the tree which it had tied together. Eventually I had to pull the string and break it free. Wrapping it up completely, I ventured back down into the fields to find his true owner.. but nobody was around. Nobody owned him. He was a lone-flying bird, free but lost and stuck without a helping hand. So I crossed the street, extended a stretch of string for him to hang onto and let the kite raise up into the windy blue sky as I walked. I'd given maybe 10 feet of slack and he instantly pulled up to the edge of it like a freed eagle! I had to hang on tight as I walked and let him ride the gusts as I crossed the expansive field. Still, nobody came to claim him.

Soon I got to a bathroom that had four metal garbage pales around it. I unraveled some more of the tangled string to give the kite a good 50 feet of flying room. Tying the end of the string onto the handle of one of the pales, I began dragging it towards the center of the field. I stopped to let the kite loose into the fierce winds, and he took quickly to the skies. Letting him dance, I continued to pull the garbage can, with a bent back, hanging onto the metal handle and looking for a good spot to leave it. The kite danced and danced, in long curves and dives, soft turning into sharp drops and raises, playing with nature's invisible swirls. Pulling along, I found an open dirt patch in the sun that seemed to give the kite plenty of room to be seen and dance in the afternoon. I pulled out a little more string, let him raise up higher and stood there to watch him fly. For minutes he just climbed and dipped, his wings sputtering. I was happy to have given him a home.

Walking back to my house I listened to a Ricky Gervais podcast, thinking about George Lucas and Steven Spielberg and their dedication and passion for creating the visual and performance art that we've all loved for years. We need more of that, more fun heroes and aching mythologies to help us define things. That's why I'm here, the same reason they were here. I need to find the George and Stevens so I can work with someone like them, where are you guys? Anyone out there as obsessed with making audiences amazed as I am?

Ah, and I got cast in a play for the Hollywood Fringe Festival called Elevator. I've got a good feeling about this one. You'll get an update or two.

farewell
Mikie