Driving eastward on Southern Avenue in Mesa, I came upon a red light and stopped. The sign of the street read Los Feliz. It was either Avenue, Road or Lane following the name I am sure. I don't remember which.
Los Feliz Boulevard in Los Angeles was one of the streets I had once lived on. In an apartment on the second floor, with a roommate. My roommate was a colleague, an actor I had been on stage with in the first play I ever did in the west coast. Thereafter reappearing only some ten years later to take part in another play I was in. The beginnings of the Armenian theater in the Los Angeles area.
We rehearsed in the offices of a kind man. We performed two weekends in a row which, at that time, was unheard of. Until then we rehearsed for months, only to play for one night or afternoon. Once, we even traveled to Oxnard. A family there had invited us to rehearse in their house while spending the day there.
I don't know where she is now, my roommate of yore, and the light has turned green.
A week ago, driving eastward again, but on Apache Boulevard, I had passed Lebanon Lane and found it odd that this was right after leaving the Haji Baba store, a Middle Eastern/Asian/Eastern European grocery/restaurant on Apache Boulevard.
I had looked left to see if the street had a reason to be called Lebanon Lane. Only if you have lived in Lebanon you would have noticed that it had. I should have brought my camera. Drama.
In Providence, Rhode Island, I lived on California Avenue. One day I received a letter from Florida, from a Californian. On the envelope they had underlined the word California.
"You can check out anytime you want but you can never leave." The Eagles, Hotel California.
For that matter, have we ever left Hotel Lebanon or Hotel Providence? Have we ever left anywhere we have ever been?
Checking out is easy. The bill is still being paid on some.
