‘Human nature hasn’t really changed at all.’

Andy Sykora is 18 years old and wants to compose music. In the meantime, he jots observations that he reads every third Wednesday of the month at poetry readings at Bebop Records in Reseda.

A lot more people write poetry than you think. A lot of young people I know. It’s another means of expression.

Sometimes you are so happy or so frustrated or in such an extreme emotion that you have to write it down, keep a reminder of how you felt. A lot of times for me it’s just an impulse, like writing “Carrot Cake.”

“Carrot Cake” is a name I pulled out of the air. It’s about this girl who sits in front of me in class. She’s always fascinated me. One thing I noticed about her is her eye shadow. She’s always experimenting with different colors. Not ridiculously like Cyndi Lauper, where it looks blatantly bright and explosive and sort of thrown together in a spastic way. It’s very subtle. It almost looks natural, like she might be from another planet. She has orange and green, sometimes maybe some yellows and reds, but always blended very well.

She has her own flair. And that’s what I said in the thing, the--I hesitate to call it a poem--let’s say the piece, the work, the writing. She’s very aesthetically interesting. You can look at her for a long time and notice a lot of interesting things about what she wears and how she makes herself up. But she’s not very interesting to talk to.

I like a person who has something in her brain, who has thoughts and ideas and questions and maybe even some answers. Someone who has a specific like. I’ve met people who don’t like anything. All they know and all they interact with is fashionable things that come and go. They’re waiting for the next clothing or hair style or hit record. I experimented a lot in junior high school with relationships but I haven’t really had a good one yet.

There’s a stereotype that the Valley is a haven for girls who love to go shopping and have a funny dialect. But that’s not all there is. Everything’s spread out. It’s part of the City of Los Angeles, all except Burbank, basically, from North Hollywood all the way to the outer edges of Woodland Hills, and Chatsworth over there and the dreaded northern regions.

That’s alien to me. There’s a lot of horses out there. It looks more down home. It’s sort of musky mountain towns, places like Pacoima, Sylmar, Sun Valley and Lake View Terrace and even Burbank. Burbank to me is streets that go in every direction, lots of older people, everyone has a horse and there is nothing open 24 hours. That’s the life’s blood, convenience! In the Valley there is always something open.

The car is the symbol, especially in Los Angeles. It’s something that you are proud of, it’s yours, you shoot it forward into the night. The car is the first big step to independence. I’m really feeling that, because I don’t have a car. Not having a car in Los Angeles is horrible. For the male the car is really important. The car is a symbol of freedom and power and control.

Very little has changed from a 1950s high school to a 1986 high school. Things have been pushed a little further as to what you can say, what you can wear and how you can act. But the way people react to each other, the attitude about that car and your first cigarette and going out with a girl and going to the school dance, it’s all the same.

Human nature hasn’t really changed at all. The darn shame about it is, ever since 1945, it has to change. Because now, if we can’t change our basic human nature, we’re all going to blow up. That’s what has changed.

In the 1950s they were talking about atomic bomb drills, “just get under your desk or cover yourself with a blanket.” But now, deep in every kid’s mind, they realize there are a whole lot of nuclear weapons and government hasn’t changed. Government men still have the same sort of macho attitude and we could all die. Myself, I try not to think about it a lot. I just hope it doesn’t happen.