The Book Selection at a Lakewood Wal-Mart during Christmas Time

A few weeks ago, I was rushing to buy my fiance's goddaughter a gift before school began at 8AM.  

There was nothing open at 7AM.  No clothing stores.  No book stores.  Not even the 99 cents store.  No Target so that I properly give hackers more information about myself.

The only thing open that early was the 24-hour Wal-Mart in Lakewood.  I wasn't sure what to get her goddaughter but my default is usually books;  they are usually flexible and practical.


When I made my way to the book section, buried deep in the corner of the store, near their electronics,  I found their one row section populated by the intellectual giants of our time:

Bill O'Reilly. Glenn Beck. A LOT of Duck Dynasty.

Incidentally, you can see in the photos that they do have an autobiography of JFK and Mandela, influential, but both are dead and neither are current.

I had to wonder, is Bill O'Reilly, Glenn Beck, and Duck Dynasty what actually sells at that particular Wal-Mart or was this a deliberate decision made by some middling manager, or even higher up the chain?

It makes me wonder who (besides a procrastinating, desperate Christmas Shopper who actually doesn't like Wal-Mart) shops there for books?

Counting just the teen/adult books, they had a general books section for adults, one for Latinos, and an African-American literature section.   I don't remember seeing anything about any talking head there, though maybe "it's not what sells."

By the way, this is also my first post under the Tag "Informationscape" where I will post some bits and pieces of "information" posted in public spheres that may play a role in influencing everyday beliefs.  Basically, I'm interested in what's in on the libraries, our TV and radio stations, etc.

Chronicling Compton - Jan 15, 2014 - Bad News and Second Chances

Discovering The Bad News

First, a few quick hits from different websites.

• Gas Thieves on Rosecrans (CBS, 1/11/2014)
• The first person to be killed under the LA Sheriff's Jurisdiction in 2014 (LA Times, 1/4/2014)

And now, just a sprinkle, about what makes Compton, Compton, in the eyes of many.

I live in proximity of this group.  This group has a few YouTube videos with photos of how it has been for a generation or two.

When I first moved in, and talked to a neighbor, he was saying that there had been a black/Mexican rivalry, and that federal authorities had been patrolling the area for a while, at least this part of the Westside.

The latest in the neighborhood was a hate crime committed by two young adult Latinos against a black teenager, which happened just over a year ago.

The common denominator:  youth? 

If I'd ever run into any of the people involved (the Latinos, the black guys), I don't think I'd make any judgment other than to listen and ask in a reflective manner...hate crime, why fellow bro people, why?!

If I ever got answers, it would be for the sake of curiosity but for the sake of a fuller, complete picture.

This where my favorite rapper's words (originally from nearby Watts) need to be heard:



The lyrics here to the Old Man Raps song.

His songs are mostly about being an older guy now, having been through the gang life and just trying to get away from it, or at least having people re-direct their energies into something else.


 

The Better News?  Church?

I find it interesting how spirituality, specifically Christian spirituality, is seen as a source of immunity if not solution from/to gang life and violence.

This isn't Compton-specific as I'd seen it in Long Beach during the 1990s.

It is reflected in this British/Australian guy preaching at some youngsters.



The irony here is that like in Panorama City and North Hills, like in Wilmington, I do see plenty of Christian churches here, but the areas remain what they are with the same reputation, that is --- places to be ignored.

I even attend St. Albert's once in a while (whoa damn at their Sunday 9AM choir), but I do wonder, if God really cared, why was there all this substantial loss and killing in the first place?

Forgiveness:  The Foil to Retaliation

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind" - a saying commonly attributed to Ghandi.

I mulled over the saying for a lot of my privileged, comfortable adult life, and while it sort of made sense, it was a bit tough to swallow.  Tough, because, well, why wouldn't you want to take out someone's eye if they take out yours?

However, in my more spiritually relaxed, kharma-believing, peaceful-ecological days, when I think about the world of gangs, violence, and retaliation, never has the saying made more sense though very difficult to live.

I salute the young man below.



He talks about the farming environment in Compton to losing a brother and not seeking revenge.  He thanks his mom and his church for not going that route.

This idea of not seeking revenge thing is why I brought out that quote.

Which incidentally reminds me of three stories from Snap Judgment, that I believe can lend some insight to perhaps how hate can be dissipated and how forgiveness can be found.

1.  About a black man and his relation with the Ku Klux Klan.

This story makes you wonder about how change in long-held beliefs can change, and would probably appeal to those Anthropologically-minded, "Study Up" people.

2.  This story about a Bangladeshi man attacked after 9/11, leaving him with a dead eye and metal lumps, actively campaigning against the death penalty for his attacker.  His story also as reported on the Guardian.  What gets me is that this guy actually lost an eye thanks to his attacker, but is now actively campaigning on his behalf.  It's really the story that will burn in the back of your head and probably burned behind mine when I was attacked on the Blue Line.

3.  This story about a Rabbi and a KKK member.

The Export Report

Apparently, there will be an NWA Biopic, "Straight Outta Compton."

A new video from Kendrick Lamar, which I learned of through the site Pretty Much Amazing, which says that he is "riding through his native Compton." It actually looks more like South LA if you look close enough, seeing that the street signs are City of Los Angeles blue (as opposed to County of Los Angeles green) with Scarff Street is one of them.




Speaking of Kendrick, the Rap Quotes project.  This New York-based artist Jay Shells, installing signs of rap lyrics from artists that mention various streets.

It's been a month since Curbed LA first reported on it. 


Jay Shells' Rap Quotes: LA Edition from ANIMALNewYork.com on Vimeo.

The artist, Jay Shells, mentions that he had three for Kendrick. One of them was on El Segundo and Central, which I have not seen or noticed, and one of them all the way closer to the center of the city on Rosecrans and Alameda.  I'm not sure of the last one.

It sort of reminds me of a Twitter picture in which teachers apparently wrote museum-like descriptions for random throw-up tags, except in this case the meaning is already written, and it's this guy making it a lot more explicit.

The Bike Report

Nothing really new other than street biking in nearby Gardena pretty much sucks, at least on Redondo Beach Blvd, one of my main East-West thoroughfares out of Compton.

My helmet camera's batteries ran out before I could video the magnitude of sucktitude.

However, digging through my computer archives, I've discovered three 7 month old videos which show Compton before we even thought of moving here.

They are on my Youtube Channel, and pasted below for your convenience.

Video is terrible and very shaky, but if you visit the pages, I post some key times to make note of.


And that's all I got for this week.

Chronicling Compton - January 8, 2014

5 Months living here.

Some of my roses have really bloomed, but not my guayaba nor lemon trees, though my fiance's mom, who has a large guayaba tree in her house in Wilmington, said that they look healthy.

For the new year, every Wednesday, I'm going to try to post bits and pieces about Compton, mostly observational, stuff I pick from the media, mostly for whomever cares to read, especially planners, investors, people interested in what life is actually like.

I'd rather my audience be the people from the community, but I'm not on the ins just yet.

I haven't really been a fixture of any community space in Compton just yet other than the Food4Less, roads, bike lanes, and sidewalks.

Also, ironically, the 50th anniversary of the declaration of the War on Poverty by President Lyndon B. Johnson.

My first reaction given my immediate surroundings and an economy which has been now 3 years removed from the Occupy movements, record high stock markets, yet sustained unemployment is, damn, what war?

Seems like all the reforms they tried to achieve in the 60s have been rolled back by a mix of Republicanism, conservatism, etc. etc.

2Pac said it best --- instead of a war on poverty, they got a war on drugs, so the police can bother me.

But who knows, maybe those who were around in the 60s seeing what we have in the 2010s are jealous, and would tell us to shut up and enjoy the opportunities.

Safety

More like my personal safety report.

Things are relatively calm here --- no real problems other than parking wars with neighbors and their multiple cadre of cars, kids enjoying fireworks, and a few kids running around on occasion.

Though we have a gate, security system here and a barking dog, I've left my door open a few times.  In my car, I've left a few things. 

I hope I haven't created a target for thieves by pointing this out.

Runnability Report

I've got my running route more or less established.

Though on one route, I ended a run with cottage cheese looking rashes on my left arm and leg.  It looked serious; my fiance panicked.

In my 13 years of sidewalk LA-running, I can't quite recall anything that looked so severe.
The only thing really memorable about that run I remember on that particular run was that I tripped on some kind of black bag and fell palms first on a dirt sidewalk with a lot of debris on it.

The area in question is this here:


View Larger Map

Calling my mom (currently, the extent of my health care system) over the phone and telling her that there was no "eye" (no openings) to any of the rashes, she concluded that I'd had an allergic reaction likely from touching a plant.

It would be best fixed by a drowse-inducing Benadryl and rest.

It's been a few weeks.

I'm still scratching it off, and still running.

Between the nails coming in my shoe, this rash, the lack of lights during night time, this is probably part of why Compton doesn't have a running culture.  

Biking 'Round Compton

The Bike lanes on Alondra along the Compton Airport are nice, but I wonder why there are not any on Compton Blvd, the main East-West thoroughfare to the Blue Line Station.

Compton Blvd can be a scary place to ride for non-commuters, meaning my fiance.

Bike lanes, hell even Sharrows, would make things a lot more convenient and safer.  The time we did ride Compton Blvd, we attempted to use a combination of small streets and sidewalks --- not cool.

We've ridden bits of Compton Creek, but I still don't know how it connects to the LA River, as it apparently is supposed to do.

Though this might be in a different city (Long Beach), it is a bit confusing to know how to connect to the LA River along Artesia Blvd.

There doesn't appear to be a ramp either on the south side of the street (the direction the Google Maps image below is facing), nor on the north side.


View Larger Map

 Not being able to find it one vacation weekday afternoon temporarily put me in the doghouse.

A few weeks ago, there was a big car chase on local TV that eventually ended in a life-ending accident on Greenleaf and Wilmington.

Greenleaf is a street with a bike lane and a main East-West thoroughfare to the big middle-class department stores (Target, Staples, Home Depot, Best Buy, etc.).

Also a few weeks ago, on the East side of Compton, a bicyclist was shot.

Parks Report

I can't say I've been a big participant in any park, though I am glad to see them around and in operation.

Most of the time though, vacant.

In Tragniew Park, which I encounter all times of the day, I rarely see anyone playing basketball or playing tennis.

I'm guessing that when I read that comment on Google Plus about wanting the tennis courts to be open, they meant that they should open it up to those without permits.  I'd like it open to, but then again, I do not know about the history of the tennis courts there, and maybe the permits are needed for a valid reason.

I've "discovered" the Earvin Johnson Park along Rosecrans, though I haven't been there enough.

The Eating Report

The closest healthy-looking eating place to me living on Compton and Central, is Food4Less.

We hit that up all the time.

There is a Fresh N Easy, which I'd seen around other parts of LA.  I figured it was a Trader Joe's knockoff, but it is totally not.  There were a few people here, and I was thinking the whole time, "why?."

For one, the fruits and veggies section seems rather small --- it is lined up in one row to the side.

They have a lot of packaged food in refrigerators.

Everything else they have seems more or less similar to Food4Less, except expensive.  Expensive is a keyword that I've spent a lot of my early adulthood avoiding.

I've visited only twice, and I just wonder why they couldn't bring a Trader Joe's in its place.

It would save us the trip to Hawthorne and Artesia in Torrance.

As far as eating out or taking food to go goes, I haven't done much within the city limits of Compton and have actually gone to Gardena for our fill of pho, boba, and sweets.

But the few places that stick out in Compton, Compton, are the places recommended to me by friends from the "outside":  Bludsoe's and some fried catfish place that I need to re-ask my godsister about.

The Schools

A few days ago on Univision, I'd spotted that which had been reported a month ago about a kid from Compton High going to Princeton on scholarship:



The kid sounds as polished as the smart kids of my high school did.

Hopefully, going forward, this kind of stuff becomes commonplace. 

Speaking of my high school, they just beat that kid's high school.

Also, a Compton Board member was on KPCC advocating for Universal Preschool.  Signs for pre-school are prominent on Central Ave near Compton.

Things Seen and Overheard

• Homies on horseback.  On bike rides en route to Greenleaf Ave, I actually saw a black dude with a beanie and shorts on horseback --- this is significant because it flies against the image of the gangsta rapper in the fast-moving car.  First reported on NPR.
• After multiple visits and exploring the houses, future bro-in-law, a contractor, commented along a car-ride from visiting Target, "It's not that bad here."

Not the Swapmeet

Her mom didn't have a car. 

Nor could she drive if she tried.

The way they would travel through and from Wilmington was through the Metro, mostly by bus. Sometimes, they would take the Blue Line to Downtown LA in the maquiladora district where her mother would go to work sewing on Charlotte Hornets and Los Angeles Raiders patches.

Every Saturday in Paramount, there was a swapmeet.  A place to get cheap stuff, and most importantly for a 13-year old, externally-motivated Araceli, cheap food.

For Araceli, going there with her mom, meant that she might get a hot dog or something.  Finally, something that wasn't divided or shared with her 4 other sisters or little brother.  Eating out was a rare luxury, something Araceli didn't do much throughout her childhood.

One day as they were at the bus stop near their house, instead they got on a different bus.  Which of course put in danger her opportunity to get her hot dog.

"Mom, this doesn't look the way to the swapmeet."  She knew her mom knew her way around the buses, and this was definitely not the way there.

"Araceli, callate!"her mother responded through gritted teeth, while grabbing her stomach.

Not just any other stomach.

"I am having this baby" she told Araceli while focusing and staring doggedly ahead, as the bus plodded its way to Harbor-UCLA from Wilmington.  She'd had 6 already, what was one more?

No frantic screaming, no panicking.  Not in public.

They made it to the entrance of the hospital when she said, "go get help, tell them I'm having a baby!"    She couldn't walk anymore.  Araceli ran frantically to get help.

She found a nurse.

The nurse asked,"Where is she?"

"She cant walk, shes at the entrance," responded Araceli

They got a wheelchair and rushed to the entrance, only to find her mom, walking with both hands on the handrails.

An hour later, the world welcomed Emma arriving by c-section, delivered by Metro bus lines.

Getting Assaulted on the Blue Line

The Eve of Christmas Eve.   7PM.

A long day of work in a week where no one else is really working.

A full and packed Long Beach-bound Blue Line.

I made it safely enough to the area where bikes are supposed to be located --- in the middle of the car.

Sitting next to one of the exits, I noticed a black woman with short hair.  At the start of the ride, she seemed to be singing feliz navidad, quite loudly.  It was then that I noticed that this black woman wasn't a black woman at all, but a gay Latino man.  He was texting, and just otherwise minding his business.

At around the San Pedro stop, a group of 10-15 black teenagers packed the car to its capacity.  They spread themselves all over the car. The atmosphere of the bus got a bit louder and maybe even livelier.  Nothing really than just teenagers in general making noise, wanting to be heard, etc.

Some of them had mentioned something aboutTrayvon Martin, or something to that affect.  I looked at them closely.

A few of them noticed that a cop had entered a car.  They announced to each other that they were going to get off at the next stop, presumably because they had no ticket.

Teens still being teens.

I didn't really care one way or the other.

Before the next stop, they called out their dance group, whatever group they were a part of. "Blah blah blahs, make some noise!"

One of them had said out loud, "damn it stinks in here!"

Then all of a sudden, arguing.

The Gay Latino man was suddenly standing up, presumably indignant at some comment they had made.

One of those teenagers was indignant back threatening to beat him up.

Oh great.

No one needs this shit, I thought.

He started hitting him and it looked really sad.

A group of cowardly teenagers ganging up on some dude.

I put my arm in front of the aggressing teen, who was probably about 5'10 - 6'0 trying to just halt any action and bring this to peace.  Why you want to start shit?  I was thinking.

Probably cause you're a hotheaded dumbass teenager, I also thought.

I said, "calm down."

A few weeks ago, I had talked a guy out of possibly getting money out of me.  I really thought I could stop what was going down.

I am a peacemaker, I was just here to make peace.

He said to me, "oh you want some of this?"  I looked at him wondering what he was about to do.

ONE BAM!  TWO BAM!  THREE BAM!  FOUR BAMS!  So much that I didn't even know where my head was or where my body was.

I was getting hit by multiple people it seemed like.  It felt like I didn't have any time whatsoever to react.

I curled up, I think.

I didn't know how it was going to end for me, but I was just concerned that they wouldn't damage my glasses.

Everyone was just looking around.  I couldn't remember, as I was just making sure I didn't lose consciousness and that I wasn't that badly hurt.

I saw the guy beat on the gay man even more.

Disoriented and looking for my glasses, it was over and they left.

The people on the car didn't seem to know how to react.  I saw some girls probably laughing.  I was just searching for my glasses, god forbid those expensive things get broken.

I could feel people's eyes on me.

The Latino man was calling the phone.  He called whomever he was talking to before and said "I just got beat the fuck up."

Another Latino man with tattoos called out at him, sort of imploring him to be quiet.

The gay Latino man, "what you want to fight me too?"

"Naw, homey, I don't prey on the weak," the Latino man with tattoos responded.

An older black man who saw the melee approached me and said, "You don't need to defend him, he's a homo-sexual."

I told him, "naw man, it shouldn't be like that, were just all trying to get home and ride in peace."

As the ride progressed, the man called the cops and got off at Florence station.

Later in the ride as the majority of people got off at the Willowbrook station, a few people gave me sympathetic nods.

A Latino man with tattoos asked me, "you stood up for that guy?"

I said yeah.

And he lamented "nobody did anything."

I was just glad that I could take a punch and that I could walk away.

I can't fight, I didn't have it in me.  I don't really know how.  I couldn't fight because I didn't have any anger in me to do anything other than to increase the peace.

The back of my head hurts a little bit as I write and recount this.  I'm grateful I was able to bike home and still have enough concentration to write this.

To those teens if you ever read this:  I don't know you or what you've been through in life, but may you find your peace.  Really. 

Maybe you got some instant rush from punching a few people, but ultimately what were you proving?

I suspect that maybe you're just looking for respect in the world. 

Well here is some.  I truly feel sorry for you and whatever your pain is.  Thank you for sharing it with me.

Overheard: Everyday Conversations and Observations in Panorama City, Mesa Angeles, and Compton

A sampling of stories, quotes, quips, glances and people I've heard while walking on the street, waiting at the library, waiting at the supermarket, etc.

As I've delved deeper and deeper into the NPR Storytelling lineups, I've come to appreciate people's stories a bit more, and the ones that I've come across.

However, me, I'm not getting the full story usually, I'm just around when I happen to hear them.

From a man at a Thai restaurant in a gas station in Panorama City:  

"It was worth it, you guys should try it," said the middle aged mustachioed white man whom I suspected to be Latino.

My mom recommended that my fiance and I order Thai food for the family.  It was on a flyer.  They had a menu.  I ordered via phone and went to pick it up.

I had already been frustrated because:  1)  it was hard to understand the lady taking my order over the phone  2)  they didn't have what I ordered  3)  their delivery person wasn't there at the moment.
After about 10 minutes of driving up and down Roscoe Blvd and finally locating this restaurant at the Arco, I took a deep sigh of relief and walked into the restaurant.

I looked in there.  Reminded me of house cooking.  The woman who was there seemed to be all alone.  Smelled good though, and at the very least I could be assured of its freshness.

The man, middle-aged, middle-sized was sitting down and rubbing his belly.

"Ahhh" he breathed in his own sigh of relief.

"It was worth it, you guys should try it," said the middle aged mustachioed white man whom I suspected to be Latino.

He recommended the curry.  He said, "she is working so hard that I feel like I need to be behind the counter"

He looked at my fiance and asked if we were married.

"Almost" I responded.

"Well, congratulations!"

He told us that he was going to be a grandpa, for the 2nd time.  He was getting a quick dinner before seeing the new child and his son.

He told us that stopping by restaurants like these for a quick solo dinner would be something we'd do when we were his age.


Random outsiders thinking of Mesa Angeles while in Mesa Angeles:

• "When I got the call to work in this area, I thought, "this is the worst idea"
• "If you have a nice phone, don't show it out here"

From a young man at the Smoke Shop on Crenshaw and Slauson:  I was carrying my bike and backpack through a long day of work.

I was waiting for someone in a visible area just outside of the chain-linked fenced in parking lot of a smoke shop that shared its lot with a dry cleaner business.  The parking lot's capacity was about 10 cars at the most.  There was quite the line entering in or exiting.

Not only was the area visible, but it was also highly trafficked.  Cars were in and out, as were the people, likely not for the cleaners.

About 10 minutes into my wait, a young man from behind the chain linked fence saw me, and asked, "hey do you have a quarter on you?"  No, I responded.  "Really?"  He looked at me, probably in suspicion. 

"Really you don't have a quarter," he asked as he went around the fence in a way that seemed like he wanted to take my bike and bag.

"Naw dude sorry"

"Really, you don't?" he looked at me directly in the eye, now in my face as I clutched onto my bike.

"Naw dude, man" I thought of some change I probably did have, but didn't really feel like giving, particularly at a smoke shop.

"My homies are right there."

"What?"

"My homies are right there in the corner."

"Wow, you have pennies", I stared at the stacks of pennies in his hands.

"What?"  He looked at me face to face like he was trying to stare me down.  We were about the same height. 

Realizing that he was threatening me, I just pretended to brush everything off "Ahh it's cool, man, sorry dude."

Then he turned away figuring that I wasn't going to budge.

To assure him everything was cool, I just grabbed him by the shoulder like you would a relative.

He said something to the effect of "I might've had a gun on me."  He saw his taller homey down the corner, and said, "hey this is my homey."  He pointed at me and say "This guy tried to rob me." 

I looked at the taller homey and kept a haha type smile, as if to communicate, you should know your boy, he probably has tried to pull this dozens of times.

From an elder woman at a library near Mesa Angeles:  An elder black lady sat down at a desk in the library talking with a library employee.  I didn't know what the employee exactly did nor what clout they would have.

The elder woman was talking about properties she'd owned.

While someone was making money off of her, she was getting nothing.

Someone had swindled her.

However, at this point, she didn't care about the money. She just wanted help, and for some justice to be served.

From a resident of Mesa Angeles: Seeing that I was on my bicycle, she asked me if I knew of any bike clubs that were tearing up her streets. I told her I knew nothing of it. 

From a man on the street in Mesa Angeles: For one job, I walked around the neighborhood of Mesa Angeles, which is just south of Leimert Park, but north of Inglewood.  The streets are the 50s-60s, and the numbered avenues.  Nearby is Crenshaw High School.

I met a stumpy older black man who was hunched over. The briefest of glances would lead you to believe that he was simply a homeless man asking for change.  Heh, maybe he is.  But in the brief conversation I had with him, he'd worked for Frito-Lay and some paint companies. That is until his body gave out on him.

For 14-years, he has been on SSI.

Made me wonder about how this particular society, by design, de-values you if you're old and not able-bodied anymore.

From a boy and his mom in Mesa Angeles:  As I walking the neighborhood on a Friday afternoon, passing one house that had a fence.  Behind it a dog's barking.

A black mother/aunt/family friend was walking a little black boy and girl, about kindergarten aged.  She noted that this particular residence had just acquired a new dog and put it behind a tall white fence.

I passed by them and heard the restom of what they were saying as I was walking forward.

They were about to pass the house when I saw them.

The dog barked into a kind of howl: argh argh argh argh.

The boy apparently now past the house squeaked proudly: YEAH, UGLY DOG! Passing through the big dog was an accomplishment.

From a Friday Night Bike Ride Home down from 60th St/11th Avenue through Van Ness Ave, through Florence to the 150s/Central in Compton, this is what I saw:

• A restaurant on Florence near Central avenue featuring live mariachi
• A black motorcycle club meeting at a bar on the 80s and Central.
• A handful of wide and awake taco trucks
• Friday Night Church Services and sermons, probably en espanol
• One sleazy looking night club along Florence
• Trucks accumulating junk or junk-accumulating trucks

Revelations While Biking "'Hoods" in the Afterhours Darkness

Central Ave from LA to Compton.



My new favorite street that takes me to home sweet home in Compton.

Never was I so relieved than to reach home sweet home in Compton than after a 13 mile bike ride after a 17-hr workday which included a 13-mile bike ride at 5 in the morning.

I rode Central relatively quickly.  At least it felt quick. About an hour to my destination in Leimert Park.

But biking at 5 in the morning in neighborhoods that have long been stigmatized as 'bad' is not everyone's cup of tea.

This leads me to wonder how we can eventually flip that script and make biking it (though not at 5 AM) any willing bicyclist's cup of tea.  Changing the norm of decidedly NOT biking Central into decidedly biking Central.

As I was pondering this in my head, I was wondering a few things:

• To what extent does darkness or lack of light factor into street design? To what extent does rain factor into street design?  I imagine 'a little bit', but it'd be difficult for the planning department and Public Works to account for every single nook and cranny of every street, especially in as big a city as LA.
• The idea of bike-friendly one-laned streets is something I've had a conflicted relationship with. As a bicyclist, I do like these streets to pass through, if I know about them.  That "if" is the key.  There are still many neighborhoods I do not know of in LA, even as a "native", and not all of them lead to the street I am going towards;  this means that I am likely to stay on bigger, well-known thoroughfares even though they may not be bike-friendly at all.  For instance, the terrible East-West thoroughfare that is Slauson Ave in South LA.  

View Larger Map

• Slauson is a four-laned street with cars averaging about 35-40 mph, that parallels an old railroad track, but with virtually no passing room whatsoever for bicycles, which means a bicyclist riding it has to take the right lane.  Its not bad in itself, but factoring in the fact that drivers expect to go 35-40, you're likely to cause tension amongst drivers.  En route to work, I was kind of stuck on that street because I didn't know any better and I don't have a smartphone (and/or) the time to do a quick route map or or anything. 
• This may upset my progressive friends, but I was looking forward to buying something from Wal-Mart.  That something?  A bike lock.  I needed it by 10 AM, and sure enough I knew Wal-Mart would have it.  Didn't know of any other alternative in the area, though I could've Yelped a bike shop, but those stores usually don't open until later.  
• Thinking about the lack of light as well as how biking would be exacerbated in inclement weather, I think the next step in improving bike infrastructure for bike commuting would be emergency preparedness or some type of AAA for bikes, where you can call someone or stop somewhere and fix your bike or have someone pick you up, just in case.  I'd hate being stranded anywhere, but I'd like it even less in areas where there's plenty of darkness, a lot of hiding spaces, and potential for people to see you as an "opportunity."