L.A. Mountains Call

 

L.A. Mountain’s Call

By Armando Ortiz

I walk the adobe road, this old mountain frozen,

sagebrush and baking dust engulf me at the turn.

L.A.’s mountainous slopes like weathered lemon peels,

fade into the afternoon haze.

I disappear into clay and chaparral

A figure in an impressionist landscape.

The portrait dissolves; the fireroad opens.

Deer forage, a yucca thirsts beneath oak shade— 

this is where I eternally wander.

Butterfly shadows circle—signs warn of rattlesnakes.

Nature bustles to its own pulse.

Slithering shadows of heat

shimmer across the coastal desert.

At a junction city scents join the trail, 

leading to barren heights and spectacular views,

where past and present landmarks remain.

At the summit, a hummingbird pauses, reminding me it too belongs.

Coyotes, forever jokesters, play hide-and-seek with the past.

As I begin my descent, a school of wild quail suddenly breaks the silence.

The male perches atop a branch, wearing a black top hat.

Strange characters live up here—a diorama of memories and life.

Everything alive before my eyes,

sweaty and accomplished, I reach my car.

Tomorrow the hike will fade, my legs will ache,

but already the mountains call me back.

Waves, Joan Sebastian, and Hemingway: A Central Coast Road Trip from L.A.

Waves, Joan Sebastian, and Hemingway:  A Central Coast Road Trip from L.A.

Reflections from a California road trip where literature and ballads collided in unexpected ways.

By Armando Ortiz

Last year, we drove to Carmel, about five hours north of Los Angeles. Our route took us along the I-5 north, cutting west on Highway 46 before stopping for lunch in Paso Robles. There, we found a small Mexican restaurant frequented by locals. We took it to go and enjoyed it at a nearby park. From there, we continued north on the 101 until we reached the coast. Our first stop was the 17–Mile Drive, a picturesque stretch of road that hugs the Pacific.

At one of the first turnouts, Huckleberry Hill, I learned that John Steinbeck, author of Tortilla Flats, Cannery Row and Grapes of Wrath, used to frequent this part of the coast. It’s easy to see why–the crashing waves, the cypress trees, the feeling of solitude. It’s the kind of place that invites introspection and inspiration. 

To bridge our musical taste–mine rooted in hip-hop and Yeny’s hard rock–we tuned in to a Spanish-language radio station. The playlist moved between old and new regional Mexican music. As the car wound through along the coast, we listened to tracks by Juan Gabriel, José José, Enrique Iglesias and Alejandra Guzman. The music felt both nostalgic and refreshing, almost like the cool onshore breeze that blew in through the open windows.

Driving through this short stretch of coast was magical–the pounding surf, the manicured golf lawns and elegant homes facing west. This was the perfect place to catch a sunset. We spent the day driving and stopping along the 17–Mile Drive, and later went to have dinner in Carmel. The spot we chose, The Hog’s Breath Inn, was once owned by Clint Eastwood. It turns out he had also been mayor of this small town.

While in Carmel, I heard music that I hadn’t given much thought to before–especially the songs of Joan Sebastian. The next day, we explored the town by foot, enjoying ice cream, window shopping, and other sweets. We ended our time there with lunch at Flaherty’s Seafood Grill and some homemade bread to take with us from Patisserie Boissiere Restaurant.

I’d probably heard five different tracks by Joan Sebastian during our trip. So, upon returning to L.A., I began diving into his catalog. At that time, I was reading Hemingway’s A Movable Feast. Somewhere along the way, the Spanish lyrics began to blend with the author’s voice on the page. 

I had just finished reading the part where Hemingway confesses to cheating on his wife. He describes the regret that followed, and how during the affair, he was conflicted. Right then, Joan Sebastian’s Lobo Domesticado began to play–a song about a man who can’t be tamed but wants to be domesticated by the woman he loves. 

Another song followed: Sé que no merezco tu perdón. It echoed the passage I’d just read, where the singer admits his faults were serious, his mistakes were too severe. He knows she’ll find someone new. Similarly, Hemingway, while regretful, finds a kind of relief that Hadley, his ex-wife, married someone finer than him. As that song ended, Me Gustas began–Sebastian singing about loving a woman so deeply that being with her erases time and reason. The country twang and crying fiddle paired beautifully with Hemingway’s sense of longing and loss.

I kept reading, and soon Hemingway was reflecting on Paris and his time in the winter mountains with Hadley. The tone of writing felt perfectly in sync with Sebastian’s songs. One scene, where Hemingway hikes up the mountain, made me feel like I’d climbed three thousand feet in fifteen minutes. The timing of the music I was listening to felt uncannily aligned with the words on the page. 

Eventually, the track switched to Oiga, a duet with Prisma, who sings of her fear of love after being hurt. Near the end of the book, Hemingway reflects on human behavior–how actions have consequences, how even our most secret choices shape our futures. But at least, he says, he’s glad Hadley found a better man. Some of those songs, which I kept returning to, echoed Hemingway’s own regrets and longing. 

Life unfolds in unexpected ways–and sometimes, the art we encounter along the way helps us understand it. Our trip to Carmel was peaceful: we had good meals, shared desserts, and listened to songs that still linger in my mind. But what stays with me most is how all these elements–the coast, the music, the drive–came together to make A Movable Feast not just a book I read, but something I felt in real time. A layered, living experience.

Tastes of Summer: A Memory of Strawberries

Tastes of Summer: A Memory of Strawberries

By Armando Ortiz

Every year, from April to June, strawberries come into season across California. You see them everywhere – roadside stands, corner markets, backyard gardens. Their scent, especially when driving through Oxnard, carries more than sweetness; for me it brings back places, people, and moments that linger longer than the fruit itself. This piece is a gathering of those memories – some simple, some strange, all tied together by the taste of strawberries.

Strawberries and cream oatmeal 

with strawberries and bananas.

Strawberries and Tajin 

on the camping trip.

A carton of strawberries handed to me

outside of Santa Cruz.

Dried strawberries under the dust 

at Burning Man.

Strawberries with Zinfandel.

Strawberry banana pancakes, 

with whipped cream and strawberry syrup.

Peanut butter

And strawberry jam on wheat bread.

The film, Wild Strawberries

Buying agua fresca de fresa in Ukiah.

Strawberry coconut ice cream 

and slow-churned chocolate ice cream topped with strawberries.

Ice cream sandwiches eaten on the side of the road along PCH.

French toast with strawberries, whipped cream, 

bananas, and strawberry syrup

My summer strawberry,

with flush red cheeks.

And smiles–simple pleasures 

live deep in our desires.

Roberto Bolano's Cowboy Graves: Book Review

Roberto Bolano’s Cowboy Graves: Book Review

By Armando Ortiz

Roberto Bolano’s collection, Cowboy Graves, was published posthumously in 2017. The English translation was released in 2021. Known for his novels 2666, and Savage Detectives Bolano offers readers three novelettes that are partly biographical and woven into his broader literary world. This collection serves both as an introduction to Bolano’s world and as stand alone narratives that will captivate fans. The tales explore themes of revolution, artistic ambition, and identity, set against the backdrop of society’s underbelly. Bolano’s characters grapple with antisocial tendencies, revolutionary aspirations, and the challenges of navigating life’s unpredictable events, yet they hold onto the hope of changing the world.

In the first novelette, Cowboy Graves, we meet Arturo Belano, a Chilean born in Concepcion, who moves to Mexico City and later returns to Chile. Through Arturo’s recollections of his father, Bolano explores themes of identity and belonging. Arturo recalls moments with his father, a man torn between bravado and a desire to display his Mexican vaquero roots. In Mexico City, Arturo forms a friendship with “The Grub” as is drawn to leftist ideologies, prompting his return to Chile and joining the revolution. However, his outsider status leads to incarceration and violence. Despite the challenges he faces, Arturo’s love for literature remains his lighthouse like an unmovable rocky coastline. Following Arturo’s journey, the second novelette introduces a new character in a different setting. In this case he is offered a chance to go into exile in France, but also to live in the sewers of Paris.

In French Comedy of Horrors, a young poet in Guyana that has just witnessed an eclipse decides to take the long way home only to find himself lured into the underground world of surrealists by a phone call from Paris. The caller attempts to convince him to relocate to Paris, promising an artistic awakening. This story delves into the multifaceted nature of literature, contrasting mainstream and unconventional writing. Bolano highlights the choices writers face: pursuing fame or evoking emotions and actions. Yet, it is the individual who decides what community he will join or what lane his art will take. Ultimately, the story underscores the idea that whatever path we choose, we may become exiles due to our art, ideas, or geographical moves.

The third novelette, Fatherland, reflects on the concept of homeland and its implications for both Bolano’s characters and the reader. It prompts reflection on how we define our place of birth and lineage, asking whether we reside in the motherland or fatherland. This story expands on Bolano’s experiences in Chile and the leftist revolution, but also contemplates physical and mental exile. It examines how past, present and future environments influence writers and their creations. In this way, Bolano invites readers to ponder the impermanence of places, material possessions, identities, and even ourselves.

The stories in Cowboy Graves are engaging and original, though parts of “The Grub” appear in The Savage Detectives. Additionally, the scene where Arturo shares his fiction with a Jesuit echoes themes from another of Bolano’s novels. Nevertheless, like much of Bolano’s work, these posthumously published stories challenge readers to explore the motivations behind their writing and inspire them to continue their creative journeys. They also serve as a mirror, reflecting on our favorite writers, the makeup of our identities, and how life’s contexts lead us to make unexpected choices that can result in voluntary or involuntary exile. Bolano’s Cowboy Graves not only enriches our understanding of his literary universe but also invites us to reflect on our own artistic ambitions and identities.

Blossoms of L.A. - Palo Verde

Blossoms of L.A. - Palo Verde

By Armando Ortiz

The palo verde 

rooted along quiet urban streets,

spring brings blossoms 

that vibrate with a glowing beat.

Bright green tips

bursting with yellow flowers,

making a delicate veil of lights

a bouquet for the eye’s delight.  

May mornings shaded by gray skies

the sounds of hummingbirds gives rise,

While these trees reach up to touch the air,

rising from front lawns, behind houses.

Rows of green protect avenues

others stand alone in open spaces,

some planted at street corners,

decorating the city with pulsating halo.

Winds clash- east or west breeze,

Or perhaps cold waters 

touching the arid coast will prevail

pulsating traffic might make it sway. 

Under desert noon, the trees grow vibrant

With Lemon yellows and lime greens

evoking thoughts of cool lemonade,

refreshing beneath the sunny day.

Native palo verde

rooted on this land,

gifts the city blossoms 

that vibrate with a growing heat.

A Quiet Retreat: Free-verse Reflections

 

A Quiet Retreat: Free-Verse Reflections

By Armando Ortiz

I sit here along the coast after a thirty minute drive on Pacific Coast Highway, lying on the sand, watching the waves roll in, each one bringing solace.

The crashing waves blend with memories of hiking the Sierras, where a cool breeze touched my skin as I prepared myself to enter the alpine lake. In the deepest silence, as the waters pulled back, a tiny mosquito pierced my skin with its sharp bite. 

Lost in thought, the crashing waves transform into a gentle rustle of aspen, pulling me back in time. The memory intersects with the present, where the sounds of water and breeze become a delight. 

No need for kegger parties or psychedelic nights; just nature’s embrace heightens the senses, offering deep insights. This mid-July heat wave intertwines with every other summer breeze and every tiny insect that takes flight. 

A single mosquito stands as a buzzing reminder, its bite added to my life's itchy welts. Palm trees and cottonwoods wave gently at the endless stream of people, serene spectators to the flow of life.

If only my tent could transform into a permanent retreat, a place to watch sea lions surfing the dawn’s first light. Or a home nestled among oaks and pines, their gentle shade shielding me from the afternoon’s oppressive heat.

High on a hill, where no buzzing mosquito will dare to exist, a refuge of tranquility. Back at the coast, the sand scorches beneath my feet, but the ocean’s blue embrace offers a cooling reprieve. 

Who needs a retreat when nature’s wonder is just a few minutes away?

John Steinbeck’s The Pearl: Review

Standing Against the Waves - John Steinbeck’s The Pearl: Review

By Armando Ortiz

In John Steinbeck’s novella The Pearl, a young couple named Kino and Juana face a crisis when their baby, Coyotito, is bitten by a scorpion. Desperate for medical help, Kino seeks assistance but finds none due to their lowly status.

Determined to find a solution, Kino heads to the sea to hunt for pearls to pay for his son’s treatment and discovers the largest pearl anyone has ever seen, which seems like a blessing soon turns into a curse as news of his find spreads throughout the town.

The pearl’s discovery attracts the attention of everyone, including those who previously ignored Kino’s family. The entire community becomes obsessed with the pearl’s potential, yet they overlook the dire condition of Coyotito, who lies at death’s door.

Kino dreams of the changes his newfound treasure will bring, envisioning his son attending school, buying a rifle, and purchasing new clothes for the family. Yet, selling the pearl proves difficult as local dealers conspire to undervalue it to maximize their profits.

The pearl soon becomes a source of danger, bringing violence during the night and suspicions in the morning. Kino faces attacks from those who wish to steal it. The same doctor who once refused to help his family now shows up. Though the doctor supposedly saves Coyotito’s life, his true intentions remain suspicious. 

Juana, realizing the pearl’s destructive power, hopelessly attempts to throw it back in the sea, but Kino stops her. The drama by the coast worsens as Kino is ambushed by mysterious figures. Despite the mounting tragedies, Kino and Juana remain determined to persevere.

  Throughout the narrative, Kino confronts the challenges head on. Just when things look bleak, there is a flash of hope and a solution. Nonetheless, this brings even more challenges, and the relentless pressure of his responsibilities weigh heavily on him. Steinbeck skillfully portrays Kino and his family’s struggles, as if standing still against the metaphorical waves that threaten their existence.

Kino is aware of his low position in his community, but the pearl’s discovery emboldens him to seek a better life. When the townspeople refuse to offer a fair price for the pearl, he decides to journey north, hoping for fairer opportunities. However, this decision leads to more violence and the tragic death of Coyotito.

Steinbeck’s novella highlights the plight of those marginalized by society’s power structures. The narrative illustrates how the ruling class in the story relentlessly obtains valuable resources at the lowest cost, often at the expense of the poor. Kino’s refusal to sell the pearl cheaply attracts dangerous attention from those eager to profit from his misfortune.

The setting of The Pearl reflects Steinbeck’s profound understanding of the Sea of Cortez. His vivid descriptions of the tide pools and the desert boulders that Kino climbs to find safety reveal his intimate knowledge of the Baja California region. By immersing the reader in this environment, Steinbeck extends his narrative of California into Mexico, showcasing the unique lives and experiences shaped by the contours of the coast.

Nevertheless, the story remains relevant today. As we scan the news about faraway places and the precarious lives of the poor, we realize that this narrative is universal and powerful. It unfolds daily from the highlands of the Andes to the jungles of the Congo, from coastal fishing villages to populous megacities. Ultimately, The Pearl is a timeless story of human perseverance amidst formidable challenges, resonating with audiences across cultures and eras.

Shadow, Shade and Stars

Shadow, Shade and Stars

By Armando Ortiz

Under the shade of the eastern face, 

the shadows of the day gave way

to a flickering sparkle of night; 

a tiny light in the sky appeared.

In the shadow of the mountain,

the sun sank behind the western ridge, 

and the summer winds cleaned the sky; 

more stars began to emerge.

Under the stars, I sat beside a rock 

that shaded me from the wind. 

Towards the eastern horizon,

the moon began to cross the shadow plane.

Beneath the shadow of earth, 

the crescent moon appeared; 

speckles of glass marbles scattered, 

dawn became a portuguese tiled floor.

Inside the shade of the pass, 

a warm breeze swept down the valley. 

The purple shadow became a blue mosaic 

that spread across the dye of darkness.

Under the stars,

the shade of trees 

and shadows of rocks 

merged with the night.

Within the darkness of time, 

shadows roamed the forest; 

fires floated in the shade of an ocean, 

on the horizon, fireflies flickered.

Covered by the shade of sleep,

I dreamt of shadows that blended into each other 

while the northern constellations of night slowly 

ascended and descended from the sky.