If Money Were No Object...

I would be a girl with a guitar on my back. I would write stories and tell them, and I would make people care about the world. But most of all, wherever I went, I would carry a small, perfect guitar on my back, ready to sing anywhere, about anything, sad, happy, joyful, silly.

Last Wednesday we went to see the NEW Summer Sounds at the Hollywood Bowl. I loved the old one so much that when I heard the handsome professor, the corny Captain, and the sexy, wonderful drum-tapping Harpoona were gone for good, and the Global Harmony had set sail for good I could barely bring myself to go. I was in mourning.

But I went. And the new model is GREAT. A hip-hopper and a break dancer ride (imaginary) public buses all over Los Angeles to different ethnic neighborhoods to learn about the cultures right here in our amazing--and sprawling, nearly unknowable-- city. Indian (Azusa?) Mexican (East L.A.) Brazilian (down by Venice) and more.

Last week was a troupe, Fandango Sin Fronteras, from East L.A.. They all carried guitars on their backs--about the size of a ukelele, but with a guitar sound. You could take them shopping or fit them in a luxury handbag. The leader of the troupe made them by hand from a single block of wood. The leader -- a dancer AND a singer--was a girl with a guitar on her back. I wanted to be her.