An Intro To Living and Dying in Los Angeles

I wonder what Native Americans thought when Europeans started building housing and infrastructure.

Yes, I often find myself pondering the sentiments of Native Americans as they observed Europeans erecting office buildings, skyscrapers and highways upon their sacred lands. Allow me to adjust my suit—yes, I type in a suit and tie, because why would I do otherwise? Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the thoughts of Native Americans as they witnessed the transformation of their world.

It's rather amusing how the mention of “Native American” can elicit certain responses, perhaps even from you at this very moment.

Okay, maybe I am presuming your reaction when I utter “Native American.” Let me rephrase that.

Here’s the crux of the matter: I am currently penning a book—this very book you are trying to give a chance at reading—and, truth be told, it has not been an easy endeavor. After a rejuvenating yoga session—namaste, indeed! —I reflected on the sheer magnificence of that class for a mere one hundred and thirty dollars a month at Equinox gym! And yet, I find myself without a job. I swore I wouldn’t venture down this path, but here I am, boldly proclaiming my unemployment status! But fear not, for I am thriving! How, may you wonder? Perhaps it is the allure of Los Angeles that has kept me afloat for the past eight or nine years. Now, what was I discussing?

Ah, yes… Native Americans… “Indians” … this trivial book you’ve stumbled upon.

Recently, I took a “23andMe” test—though I must caution against such endeavors! But surely, you’re curious? I delve into genetics, and do they truly matter? To my surprise, I discovered I am part of the Taino tribe. Oh dear, here we go—he thinks he can summon rain with a ritualistic dance! Indeed, I am connected to the native tribe that once flourished in the islands of Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. But before you brace yourself for a lecture, allow me to clarify I am like an AI sensor, finely attuned to detect shifts in engagement and interest—think of me as the Sherlock Holmes of conversation, minus the deerstalker hat and pipe. I meticulously analyze verbal and non-verbal cues, such as tone, body language, and response speed, to ascertain whether you are captivated or merely plotting your grocery list while attempting to consume my words. So, I dare ask: are you ready to delve deeper? Genuine interest is palpable, so may I receive a smile and a nod of engagement? I shall await your response…

Ah, there we go! Detailed responses and affirmative gestures will serve us well as we traverse these pages, while disinterest often manifests in the form of obsessive obscure wonder, with that being said, a lack of eye contact, or that telltale glaze over your eyes that screams, “I’d rather be scrolling on my phone!” My sensitivity—oh, please adjust your demeanor if I am to continue, you’re hurting my feelings… Shall we proceed?

As I was saying, Taino blooded tribe-folks faced extinction by European invasion (the Spaniards did it). Our language is too fragmented to piece back together; they can only learn about us in bits and pieces, with traces of our traditions woven into the fabric of the islands, where we once thrived in trade and distinguished ourselves from other Natives by living in harmony and peace, protecting ourselves from cannibals and invaders, with the surrounding ocean as our warning of incoming danger. And you know, I've always wondered upon learning these facts, does any of this matter? Should I have learned about this in school? Does knowing this impact my perception on life today? I mean, genetics can influence your nature, right? I've always been paranoid, feeling like something is out to get me. I view the world in a peculiar way. My sense of character is unusual, unable to “fit in,” questioning the established system too much, as if I'm incapable of understanding what “going with the flow” means.

Forgive my earlier attempts to capture your attention; I did not mean to startle you. Just adjusting my boxer briefs—oh, I mean my tailored suit pants!

I've been this way since the beginning. Asking too many questions, until I stop asking at all, how did we get here? Should I be scared? Why am I like this? Oh, just shut it down, bury your face in that pillow because no one understands you. Poor me, poor me, someone save me. Cue the dramatic music. A Native American chief who can play the tune “Hooked on A feeling” through instrumentation while chanting “Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga.” It's like, not even people with the same bloodline as me want to have these conversations. Do I need to hold on to my ancestor’s traditions? No one in my immediate family knows their tribe, nor do they seem to care. Here we are, modern-day Americans, living in this dreamland, but I can't help but wonder, what does it all really mean?

From as far back as I can remember, I have been this way—asking too many questions until I cease to inquire altogether. How did we arrive here? Should I be apprehensive? Why am I like this? Oh, just bury your face in that pillow, for no one understands you. Cue the dramatic music perhaps a Native American chief playing “Hooked on A Feeling” while chanting “Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka” will certainly do. It appears that even those who share my bloodline shy away from such conversations. Must I cling to my ancestors’ traditions? My immediate family remains oblivious to their tribe, and they seem indifferent. Here we stand, modern-day Americans, navigating this dreamscape, yet I cannot help but wonder: what does it all signify?

Now, allow me to reframe this narrative through the lens of a fictional character in a screenplay, reiterating the question posed at the beginning of this preface. I do not wish to induce cringes by declaring that my life resembles a movie—such words can seem unappealing when uttered by the wrong person. Yet, it has indeed been a remarkable journey for me. The protagonist, “Edward Lopez,” invites you to share in his odyssey from New York to an encounter with a certain kind of “Death” in the city I now call home—Los Angeles. You must understand, this tale only unfolds if you believe in him as much as the author does. Inspired by the genuine events of my life, Edward is so real to me that I hesitate to reveal his authenticity. Thus, you and I now share a delightful secret after traversing these pages.

My friend Tyler captures a photo of me, depressed, at the top of Twin Peaks San Francisco mountain, on the verge of a mental breakdown why I don't know? Perhaps he saw something in me I did not at the time.

I look so much different today, without my dreadlocks.

Sometimes I wonder who that person was.

For this sake lets call him Edward.