We all met, most of us didn’t know one another, a flash-mob created at 1:10PM at the Barnes and Noble in The Grove in LA. We each grabbed a book and began reading aloud while walking throughout the store . . . and on the escalators . . . and in the grand three-story balcony.

I was running late, and bustled into the store around 1:09ish, pushing past people, sliding in my flip-flops on the marble floors, bounding to get to the third floor. I had no idea which book I was going to grab, but I definitely knew it would be on the third floor. I didn’t know how many, if any, people would be here reading with me, I was listening for others, but didn’t really hear anything. I grabbed a book from a low shelf. It was a book of blessings. “Perfect, I thought, “It’s just what I need to be putting out to the world.”

And I began to read, and listen for others. I walked around, then sure enough brushed casually by a long haired tattooed dude who was reading Mien Kampf. Then I saw others. Then I heard others mumbling near and far, like constellations of mischeif, as I myself read as loud as I could. I noticed a couple of kids walking together arm-in-arm, reading aloud too.

The plan was to read out loud until about 1:30 or until getting kicked out.

We all continued to walk around Barnes and Noble, reading aloud and eventually we saw staff members and customers begin to look at one another like, “What the . . .?” And on we read, some were mumblers, most were just reading in a relaxed and normal way, like it was perfectly acceptable public behavior. I, on the other hand, was as loud as I could be reading poetic blessings into the air. . . a sustained theatre voice projected from the diaphragm, not screaming or anything, but definitely enough to cause people to notice. I wanted to be heard by the others, to help keep momentum going. I noticed a security guard coming near me, but he was actually going after one of the other men who were reading. It was odd, like he didn’t see me. Then a sales lady approached and said, “The customers are complaining, ma’am, you have to stop.”

I walked a couple of aisles over and commenced to the blessin’ again. Then as I rounded the balcony, I saw that security guards were escorting people out, so I put my book down. The kids were still reading and giggling. No one ever asked them to stop. I found a dear friend of mine, mumbling, but still reading. It was not yet 1:30. I hugged him, and walked out the door, glowing.

The others who’d been kicked out were standing in front. I introduced myself. They said, “Hey, wanna go for coffee?”

We did. And we planned the next shenanigan. Coming soon.

Jetting into LA last Friday, hours after quitting my job in Albuquerque, I needed a weekend ‘home’ in LA and didn’t even know it. Every moment was GOLDEN. Here are but a few highlights:

1. Running up Washington Blvd, the heaviness of the salty ocean air hits me like an old friend.

2. The door man at Hinano didn’t need my ID; he said, “Girl, where you been? I know them blue eyes. Get yo’ ass in there!”

3. Group hug after group hug from my Venice peeps while I caught a 3BB (three beer buzz).

4. 15-mile solo oceanside mid-afternoon bike ride on my yellow Schwinn, which I miss very much.

5. Riding my bike on Speedway in Venice just after sunset and running into at least 7 close friends within 5 minutes. That’s more than 1 friend per minute!

6. Being fed tri-tip and Austrailian wine at Theory with yet another group of awesome friends.

7. Dog-piling the couch to watch Lawrence of Arabia.

8. Being woken up at 4AM by a herd of drunks who landed near my couch.

9. The shenanigan at Barnes & Noble.

10. Taking a nap at my Mar Vista art studio.

It’s come to my attention that there is a huge hull-bubble-balloo regarding the Los Angeles county ballots in the presidential primary race. Here’s what I know:

All Non-Partisan voters were able to cast their vote for a presidential nominee from the Democratic ticket or the American Independent ticket. If you came through my polling place, and you were on the roster as Non-Partisan, you were told that you were also allowed to choose from the Democratic and American Independent tickets. All Non-Partisan voters were still given a Non-Partisan ballot and told to go to their voting booth of choice: Democratic, American Independent, Non-Partisan. We told everyone to very carefully read #6!

Number 6 was the infamous bubble question of - “do you want to be disenfranchised . . .” Appparently this bubble needed to be punched in order for the vote to count. I think this is too tricky for voters. If the Dems and the AI party opened up their tickets to NP voters, then let the floodgates open, with no hoops, tricks or confusion. It’s akin to being ‘kinda pregnant.’ You either are or you aren’t.

As one of the pollworkers, I’m not even sure which is correct - that if you are an NP voter and you wanted to vote as a Dem that you get a Dem ticket or if you still should have voted on an NP ticket and checked bubble #6. I voted on the Dem ticket (provisionally, I might add!) and there was no #6. So, that would mean that only the NP tickets had question #6, the question that you had to punch, which we’ve all agreed is redundant.

And, if it makes anyone feel any better, my vote probably ‘won’t count’ because I forgot that I am an NP voter and when I voted provisionally, I couldn’t remember how I was registered, so I voted on a Dem ticket.

Is my blood boiling that my vote ‘may not count?’ No, not so much as the mistake was a call to get my own politics in order . . . as in . . . know which party I’m affiliated with and go in to the polls a little better-informed. Maybe look-up ‘disenfranchised’ in the dictionary.

Am I annoyed with the continual shenanigans in our voting system? Yes! But I believe that community involvement can help foster awareness, which will lead to a better system. I consider this primary as practice. Let’s not get too agitated over the primary, fellow Angelino NP voters! Let’s all take this as a big lesson to open our eyes for whatever they try to pull over on us next time.

Also, I’ll say this: I don’t have a TV, nor do I listen to the radio, so I’m thankfully not sitting here being fed an AP story about “Bubble-gate” every hour on the hour.