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I had a nice day at Del Mar yesterday with my friend Howard. Howard is a hep cat. When he wants to know if you're familiar with something, he'll ask you if you're hep to it. 'Are you hep to that pastrami joint on Figueroa?' ...We took the train from Glendale to Solana Beach in San Diego, and then walked from the station to the racetrack. Taking the train is such a civilized way to travel down there. When the tracks passed over the 57 freeway, somewhere near San Juan Capistrano, I looked out the window and saw a wall of stopped cars in both directions. If I had been sitting in that traffic, my sphincter would be clenched almost as tight as my arteries. It made me think of how the the Los Angeles Metropolitan Area of today is a unique fusion of yesterday and tomorrow. The yesterday part is the region's ongoing resistance to energy-efficient public transport. I like to tell people that I admire the lack of public transportation in LA because I feel shielded in the cocoon of my car. When I'm in my car, no retarded guy with both legs missing is gonna drool on me as he asks me for my spare change, but this kind of thing is de rigueur on those rare occasions when I make the ill advised decision to take a bus someplace in this town. But I'm gradually seeing the error of my narrow minded ways. The Los Angeles model, wherein the dominant form of transport is every man for himself, atomized in individual cars - is not sustainable in the aftermath of peak oil. What will become of this place when oil climbs back up to $5 a gallon, as it inevitably will? And eventually it will hit $10, $15, even $20 a gallon as the stuff gets scarcer and scarcer. It has the potential to bring the whole region's economy to its knees, to say nothing of what the auto-centric model is doing to the environment. ...Los Angeles is at the same time the city of tomorrow insofar as there is no place in America with more ethnic and national diversity. I really felt it yesterday as the train bounded from downtown L.A. through places like Pico Rivera, Downey, Bell, and then into the O.C. - Fullerton, Anaheim, Dana Point, San Clemente - before crossing into San Onofre and Oceanside in San Diego. I looked out at the passing scenery and saw people with roots in so many different parts of the world. I felt like a minority. With the passage of time I will become more and more of a minority, I think, which is fine with me. ...Howard and I sat in bidness class, so they kept bringing us wine and snacks. Very civilized. You can't drink wine in the driver's seat of your car now, can you? I really enjoy spending time with Howard. So much of what I know about LA I've learned from him. He's an old-time LA guy. Howard came of age when this was truly a glorious place. I know the glory of that bygone era is inseparable from the fact that LA was run like an aparthiedstate back then, but allow me to overlook the dark side, so to speak, and engage in some romanticizing.

When I see films like Double Indemnity and Out of the Past, I think of Howard.

He grew up in East LA when there were lots of jews there. His family moved to Silver Lake when he was a teenager, and he attended Marshall High School in the 50s. He was a greaser-biker juvenile delinquent. And a hep cat. He loves jazz, of course, and motorcycles. His parents sent him to military school in Glendora as a last resort after he was kicked out of Marshall, and he ended up in the Marines. He was a drill sergeant and did some

time on a ship in the Persian Gulf. He's got a bad-ass USMC tattoo on his arm. I wanted to take a photo of it, but I was too embarrassed to ask. Anytime I have a question about the way LA used to be when it was great, Howard is the first guy I turn to. ...We had a great time at the track yesterday. I broke even, which means that my whole day was paid for thanks to two winning bets, including a $5 bet on a horse that went off at 21-1 courtesy of a tip from Howard. I'm an ok handicapper but not nearly as good as he

is. The man knows his ponies and can find esoteric factors deep in the guts of a racing form that help him to identify undervalued long shots. ...Whenever I spend time with Howard, the experience reminds me that I have an old soul. Even when I was a kid, I always related better to people who were older than me.

I have an older half-brother and half-sister, both of whom were very important to me growing up. They grew up in the 60s, and I was so obsessed with 60s music culture, so I always felt like they 'got me.' Having an old soul can be a good thing because so much of contemporary life - the culture, the values, the dominant frames of reference, the general trajectory of the world - it's all so disappointing and shitty. (I guess having an old soul means being able to say the kinds of things and have the kinds of thoughts that old farts say and have.) But having an old soul can also be problematic. As the idealized Golden Age continually recedes further into the remote past, and as the people of that age die off, an old soul will be left to negotiate an alienating world in increasing isolation, speaking a language that nobody understands any longer. ...I hope Howard lives forever.