Following another lightning round of work for the day, it should have just been another chill bike ride home. But a force came over me as I decided it was time to give something else a try, at last. Just as I was about to make the swerve onto the ole block, I decided to keep going in a stroll through la vecindad. I’d gotten an idea. As I came across intersections through the neighborhood with an outpost or magazine box for the free literature, I stopped, took off my backpack, searched through the folder inside which contained a couple of prints, and then grabbed the prints, taking them out and dropping them off into the boxes. I did this at nine intersections throughout the neighborhood, and the results were printed copies of JIMBO TIMES’s Los Angeles Students at all of the following cross-streets:

Virgil and Normal (1 Post: 2 copies)
Virgil and Monroe (1 Post: 2 copies)
Virgil and Clinton (1 Post: 2 copies)
Vermont and Clinton (1 Post: 2 copies)

Melrose and Vermont (3 Posts: 6 copies)
Vermont and Normal (2 Posts: 6 copies)
Vermont and Santa Monica (3 Posts: 6 copies)
Virgil and Santa Monica (1 Post: 2 copies)

Virgil and Lockwood – (1 Post & The Mini-Library: 2 & 2 -3 copies)

Halfway into making these ’rounds’, I realized something about it all. It was a job. A job that used to exist in days before I came onto the scene when the world was a slightly more literary place. Or at least before all of it became digitized, relinquishing the power of the print into the depths of the past.

Rather than dropping off copies of the New York or L.A. Times, however, I dropped off copies of these JIMBO TIMES. And then something else hit me: I want to make more of these rounds for The L.A. Storyteller. I know that the path towards such future rounds–that is, on a sustainable basis–could be quite long, but then, how I could not give it a shot? Through all these years, the power of the written word has only grown on me, convincing me once and for all that reading and writing are mediums by which a people or pueblo can become aware of their environment in ways that are invaluable to them. And even if Los Angeles never quite had much of A Literary Intellegentsia, as Freire would note, the past does not represent a world we’re consigned to indefinitely, but a possibility incumbent on those of us in the present to uplift for the future.

We’ve got to do it, then, don’t we, Los Angeles? As with all things, one step at a time. But let this be a step towards just that. We are not afraid of a challenge when we know it’s in our veins to take it on. Indeed, that is why we are here.

Let us take it on, then, Los Angeles. Get literary.

J.T.

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