FOOD DREAMS OF LOS ANGELES
- •I am at Chego!. It's midnight. The mall is closed. I walk in, thinking of razor-thin green onion. The intercom crackles. I grab the microphone, ordering at random, attempting to rhyme. With each one, a new me appears at the tables outside. I take the pork belly for my true self and join the others.
- •Mariscos Jaliscos: E. Olympic is standstill in both directions--heading east all red pickup trucks, heading west solid black SUVs. The line snakes onto S. Grande Vista. In the playground there is a soccer being played on a baseball field. The ball is the best shrimp taco you've had in your life.
- •Philippe: I approach the counter and Alex Trebek stands at the register as if it were a podium. I tell him I'll have a pork double-dip. He lights up and says daily double. I say double-dip. He says daily double, turns, and points dramatically toward the staircase. Nothing happens.
- •Mr. Churro: Just me and Mr. Churro himself playing scrabble, spelling out the fillings--get the custard. I keep suggesting some kind of Oreo cookie churro. He keeps telling me to be satisfied with what I have. He hits a huge triple-triple with QUIXOTRY. Be satisfied with what you have, he says again
- •Sanamluang Cafe: I order the General's Noodle (dry). A waiter approaches on roller-skates. There is a waterfall in the parking lot, a group of smokers cluster in its mist. Three goths walk passed Jumbo's Clown Room. I hover behind them. They've brought their #2 pencils, and I haven't.