There isn’t much more to be said, really. Looking down many streets in West Hollywood, especially, there is a column of vibrating floral and chromal ecstasy. Some people call this incandescent color “blue”. I think of it as a neon purple with periwinkle afterglow. The flowers of the jacaranda nearly seem to possess bioluminesence, like foxfire or the clouds of amorous squid one may be blessed enough to encounter on a warm night rafting on the Aegean.
And, like squid, the retina-quivering blossoms do fall all over the street and make a slimy purple mess, like a Barney snail-trail. I just hope that no well-meaning citizens’ group ever organizes to tear out the jacarandas, as they have with other flowering trees that drop their blossoms, just to ensure the safety of nervous pedestrians. Life is like walking on banana-peels anyway, people. Enjoy the fall.
We all remember what the great Alice Walker says about the color purple. And may I add, what a pleasure it is to live in Los Angeles right now. To be able to walk out my front door into a breezy, brilliant, warm day and actually find something to eat for lunch within a few minutes. After eking out a bleak survival in the pompous wasteland of the north, where every scrap of gristle and marrow and suet had to be hoarded, JEEZIZ, sometimes a girl just needs a sandwich and a lemonade without a whole grotesque backwoods opera of human misery.