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Friday, November 19, 2010

1538 N. Martel Ave.#411

blogged on January 7, 2010

For some reason certain things tend to come back to me that I feel the need talk about.  Take it for what you will; perhaps you can relate to them. 

I moved to the above address in the fall of 1988 and lived there for about three years.  So much seemed to happen while I was there and in some ways, I used to think of those as the "dark years."

Right after I moved there I remember watching the first game of the World Series.  I remember crouching in front of the TV and praying for Kirk Gibson to hit a home run.  I distinctly remember saying in my mind, "God, I know I'm not supposed to do this, but please let Kirk Gibson hit a home run."  I remember Kirk bending over for a low, outside pitch Dennis Eckersley threw and apparently hitting the game ending pop-up.  For some reason that ball kept going until it cleared the outfield wall.  I was so ecstatic that I ran out onto the balcony to yell "He did it!"  On my old balcony I could have run three strides to the fence but the new balcony cut me off at half a stride.  At the last second I grabbed onto the fencing and kept myself from falling over head first.  I got that close to falling onto the floor below.  My prayer came true and I almost killed myself because of it.

My semi-torrid affair with Wendy Newton carried over from the last place I lived and eventually I realized there was someone else in the picture she would not tell me about.  She wound up with a pair of my Revo sunglasses out of that drama.  I smoked a lot of pot back then.

I also remember getting into a lot of arguments back then.  The security guard was a real creep and intimated that he might have been involved in the theft of my Diamondback bicycle.  The classy building I had moved into seemed to be a false promise, but then again, that's Hollywood for you.

I also remember dating Jennifer Krouse back then.  Overall, she was the best girlfriend I ever had.  We got along great but there were certain "gaps" in our relationship.  Of all the women I got involved with she was the only one who told me she wanted to be friends after we split and really meant it.  To me the phrase "Let's be friends" usually translates to "You will never see or hear from me again."

I started fish keeping while I lived there.  At one point, I was so despondent over all of the brushes with death and tremendous disappointments that I experienced that I became really angry with God.  I told Him I was going to ignore Him as if he did not exist.  The Chaos in my life increased and about a month later I begged God to forgive me.

A lot of my neighbors were really strange; some I got along with and some not.  Near the end of my tenancy I was really looking forward to leaving that place.  It was really over-priced and one group of neighbors kept dumping trash with partially burning cigarettes into the dumpster.  The fire dept. came by about three times a week.  Crime was still very high in the neighborhood and helicopters hovered low and shook the building almost every night.  The rioting after the Rodney King verdict eventually got so close to that residence I decided to retreat to my parents house for a few days.

I was still working for Financial Feasibilities when I moved there and started my private consulting business about a year and a half later.  I had a nose job while I lived there, my second, an operation to remove hemorrhoids, and the knee reconstruction that was part of the aftermath of the car accident on Fountain on June 29th.  As soon as my body recovered adequately, I moved out.

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