i was just in l.a. this week. and lest you think i was immune to the luscious displays around me, i have to fess up. i did go shopping for things besides food eventually. after all, it was my birthday the previous weekend. and there were fabulous treasures lurking everywhere, more realistic ones than the $2.5k chandeliers. melrose is populated with oriental rug dealers, antiques and furniture, and of course the ubiquitous tiny boutiques. i found an inhaler to promote lucid dreaming at a bookstore called "the bodhi tree". but i don't remember if i dreamed lucidly or not (i almost never remember my dreams) on the night we tried it. i did make sure to document all of the surreal moments of my trips around the city of angels though...
here is where we lock up our naughty ladies...
here is where giant birds somehow go missing...
and whenever i looked up, i still found things that somehow, seemed suggestive of only hollywood.
i didn't manage to get many shots of l.a. at night... and more's the pity. the moon rose full and red the first night, when we went up to check out the rooftop pool of meep's hotel. though, suspiciously, i wonder if the moon always rises red over l.a. and i captured meep, posing accidentally as a pirate queen at the bar we ate at in venice beach. i knew i would only disappoint myself with efforts to photograph the night surfers i'd watched as we ate, their dark heads hovering like seals against the darkly sparkling sea, close to the pylons of the pier out of necessity i think, to better see the waves they caught. they were constrained to the halos of each pier light, and would tumble into their halfpipes still within that circle of dimly lit curls.
and i tried to photograph beautiful downtown burbank from mulholland drive, as meep's gracious boss flew us slow along it's sinuous curves. but none of those pictures appear to be in my camera. it's the unfortunate serendipity of my digital camera, that some experiences must be remembered without the photos i thought i took. but maybe that's better, since i would probably be as disappointed in them as in the photos i didn't try to take of the night surfers. i do not think i could have done justice to the view, like standing on black islands over a glittering night ocean of stars. with a few teenagers sprinkled here and there in the after hours vista point. they were not admiring the view.
and the next evening, good sport that she is, she drove us past mann's chinese theater. which was perfect for a quick trip... it sort of reminded me of the inverse of the sistine chapel crowd. instead of standing with their faces upturned, everyone wandered with their eyes and cameras aimed down, and the whole forecourt flickered with the light reflecting off the stars. i was wondering whether or not to be disappointed, that i hadn't seen any stars, even though i'd clearly haunted a rather ritzy area. too touristy maybe? i saw only tiny hints of celebrity while walking.
and a portion of the antique-y sorts of stores were given over to vintage movie posters. hollywood digesting it's own fumes. one store had an especially entrancing collection of polish vintage movie posters. i balked at the price of this one, even though it wasn't unreasonable. and because it is rather creepy. i also balked at the aliens poster (it's on the above website), because it was super creepy, to the point where i believe we might discourage visitors. i think i probably would have succumbed had they offered me the one i saw only in a photograph. it was for trading places. i left, but eventually returned for a smallish belgian poster for children of the damned. in flemish, that's apparently "kinderen van nergens".
not much of an l.a. haul eh? just a freaky little almost french poster and snacks. maybe this is why i didn't meet any celebrities until i was at the airport preparing to leave the city of angels. because it was labor day weekend, our concierge frightened us into allotting 90 minutes for the cab ride, and then we further frightened ourselves into scheduling a 5:30 wakeup call, for our 10:05 and 11:55 flights. and i'm not sorry, because there's nothing like dreamily riding in the back of a cab, arguing about whether he needs to give you the flat airport rate, as the sky goes all peach and gold flecks over santa monica boulevard. we got to the airport with hours still to spare, and since lax segregates all travellers by airline, we were loathe to pass through security and commit ourselves to waiting alone in our respective gates. so we huddled by the smart carts and apologized to all of the people who asked us to light their cigarettes, and discussed all sorts of randomness, rather than walk all the way to the international terminal where the cafes were. eventually, meep had to fly, and i suddenly dedicated myself to getting an earlier flight since the one i'd purchased was still three hours away. especially when i took the shuttle from what i had believed was my terminal, across the tarmac to the commuter terminal, and realized i had separated myself from the coffee circulatory system that otherwise covers the country. apparently commuters require only chili's.
i sat next to sunny farrand on the shuttle. the perfect way to meet a celebrity, is for them to introduce themselves to you, and then for you to say, "nice to meet you! who are you again?"
i'm actually really impressed by all the things he told me. he went from being a homeless veteran to organizing veteran's services for the returning wounded. and then he signed the copy of the american legion he gave me. and i believe i'll email him to see if i can volunteer for something or other, because he seemed a nifty sort of guy.
but you guys were hoping for something a little more impressive, weren't you? as i was talking to sunny in the terminal, i totally ignored all the announcements to board the earlier flight i'd begged for at the gate desk. and so i had to hastily say goodbye, and was one of the last seated on the 10:05 flight i also managed to catch. i was initially amused by the synchronicity, because that's just me, and i settled into a window seat on the tiny little commuter jet beside a gentleman with enormous amounts of jewelry. i pulled out my book and started reading. a minute or two later, i notice another big guy across the aisle is trying to get my attention.
"um, well it's kind of an inside story of the berger court when the nixon administration took office."
"yeah, hey what's your name?"
"i'm bright strangely, what's your name?"
"i'm yung joc"
"what?"
"yung joc"
"what, like jacques?"
"no, like yung, you know, young? and joc, like J-O-C"
and now, the guy immediately next to me is obviously snickering a little bit. but, i am my usual oblivious self and think it's just because i'm so white and lame. but then,
"so, do you know who i am?"
oh wait, just a second... no, totally no idea. "no?"
and his friend leans over and says to me, "he's a rapper". and yung joc is looking at me and nodding, and i still don't recognize him, and they can tell i think, so i just fess up, "oh really? what's the name of your album?"
"hustlenomics"
"pulsanomics?"
"no, hustlenomics, like you have to hustle?"
"oh, right! gotcha!"
and then he starts introducing me to his friends who are distributed around the plane, "hi, i'm black" the man next to me says offering his hand.
as i shake it, i must have hesitated before responding, "nice to meet you!", because he craned his head back across the aisle and says to yung joc, "she's all 'i know!'" and they find that pretty hilarious. and then yung joc pointed up about five aisles at the back of a head and stated, "and there's dirty harry".
whereupon dirty harry looked around a little and raised his hand. and yung joc continued, "we call him that because he stanks like dawmpstah juice."
and this i find hilarious, "that's the most awesome thing i've ever heard. you guys have got to market that. i have to see that at macy's, across from the calvin klein's, ' would you like to try the new "dawmpstah juice" from yung joc and dirty harry? he makes it all natural!"
and they laugh hysterically. and yung joc asks, "girl, what are you doing for work right now?"
and i say, "right now? nothing!"
he and black laugh and yung joc high fives me across the aisle. and i ask if he lives in l.a. or if he's vacationing, to which he replies that they're on tour. and he asks me if i want tickets to the concert tonight. so i ask him where he's performing. he thinks for a moment, and leans back to ask one of his friends behind him. then he turns back and tells me to e-mail him, he'll let me know where it is.
"you can bring your husband, i'll get you two tickets."
and i blush a little bit, because i had wondered if he noticed my wedding band or not. and he asks me how old i am. the weirdo political book and the ring are tipping him off.
"how old do you think i am?"
he thinks for a moment, then offers, "17".
and immediately, it's like my brain is suffused in a white and shiny light of elation. even despite myself, since age is all in your head anyway. but it was pretty fabulous to look squarely back, smile and say, "i just turned 30 on saturday".
and yung joc and black widened their eyes and i just smiled and nodded back to their "for real?!"s and "no!"s.
and we chatted a little bit more, discovering a common southern heritage in texas and georgia. and i told him i probably wasn't up for a concert, being that i was 30 and had gotten up at five in the morning (i was right, i fell asleep at like 9:30, before he even went on). it is a drag getting old. 17 year old me, probably would have had a blast. and if you ever come across this little story yung joc, i promise you, 24 still isn't 30. sincerely, bright strangely, who you said reminded you of cheech and chong's sister, if that helps at all. and that pretty much made this the best l.a. trip ever.
p.s. your coffee shop video rocks. email me next time you're in san jose, and i'll take you to my favorite...
things that almost share my birthday
Current mood: recumbent
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
no, not star trek the motion picture... v'ger! it was 30 years ago yesterday, that we shot you out. almost two years later, you and your sister passed your first destination, jupiter. just about a month before my sister was born. and i thought we'd made it far from home... but you're nearly to the heliopause. that's much further than chicago and san francisco are from dallas.
and i had a rainbow book, but i had these. and they came with fancypants cassettes by this time. i can't wait to explain what those are to my kids someday...
today though, is my dad's birthday. when we visit my mom's family, they all grab my sister and say, "suki, it's you!". this never happens to me. i don't look much like my mom, though i have her mother's eyebrows. and i don't look much like my dad either. or maybe the family has been too polite to declare it even if they do see it, because i do look like his sister. and get us in an argument; we could pass for mirrors. and so i think the two of us are a testament to nature, nurture and possibly the zodiac. and syndication. because i grew up with all the stories my mother and father loved... i was lucky enough to have parents that cared about what i saw (not that i appreciated it at the time...), enough to lie about not being about to afford cable. and so my childhood too, was populated with kirk and spock. flash gordon and gort. and huge swathes were given over to the rings of monty python's flying circus. and in the car i learned all the lyrics of all the beatles songs and simon and garfunkle and the radio was even filtered through old hippies.
and i'm suspicious, because i'm not certain how much of me is me and how much is software you and mom loaded. but i'm pretty sure i like us all too much to be really worried. happy birthday, dad. thanks for making me into me.
i stumbled upon the most wonderful videos courtesy of kottke! nearly everyone is sharing them, but i couldn't not share them too, they're so wonderful!
i've seen this movie already. when it was on cbs storybreak. how to eat fried worms can be told in a half hour. here is a brief review, compiled of pieces of reviews from the internet movie database:
A fun film about friendship, dignity and bravery
If you've ever met me, you'll know that I have an uncontrollably hearty laugh. I felt like a creep erupting at a toddler whining that his "dilly dick" hurts. But Fried Worms is wonderfully disgusting. Like a G-rated Farrelly brothers film, it is both vomitous and delightful. The only thing in common between the book and the movie is the main characters' first name, the fact that there is a bet, and a whole lot of worm eating. Nice to see the "Pepsi" girl all grown up.
unfortunately, there's nowhere to retreat to until the 15th. and so i feel something like mrs. brisby. at least she didn't have a chat with the farmer, where he flat out told her she was being unreasonable in her queries about when the giant pile of sand might be removed from what had been the parking spaces. and at least a field mouse isn't paying any rent for the nest she's woven in the winter weeds. the farmer might be able to plead ignorance. he didn't know there was a shivering, desperate, brown creature down there. and this is starkly different from my landlords, who know we're here. they must because they email me periodically. and there's no similarity between watching work transpire around you, as your things are cavalierly shoved aside and run over by tractors and contracting work to be done on your own house. at your behest. at least then you feel entitled to yell at the people who aren't careful with your things. and at least you can call them when they run late or early, instead of learning, slowly but surely, that the day you're told something will happen, is guaranteed not to be right. and shy and timorous beastie that i am, all i do is huddle here, and listen to the voices outside speak detachedly about my surroundings.man is the most invasive species there is..
and all his endeavors are littered with refugees and casualties. luckily, i can eat mine ~ b
vegetables and minerals
Current mood: enthralled
Category: Art and Photography
we're moving and my garden is not as mighty as i would like it to be. i didn't plant anything after i learned it was all to be landscaped, instead i pulled everything that i had ever planted out of the ground. leave no man behind! so everything is in a lifeboat of sorts, waiting to stretch their roots again. soon guys... i promise. my brother-in-law actually asked if someone had stolen our plants when he saw the holes. and i've been pretty good about not buying things that will just have to get shifted around when they come tear out the patio. i think that's why this scabiosa is trying so desperately to get in. i have to restrain it with a pushpin, or it would be beheaded by the sliding door.
i'm not worried about this hydrangea. we've had it since san francisco and it's been getting a tour of the peninsula. but will the arugula finish setting the seeds? i let it bolt as soon as it wanted to, carefully didn't pull off any of the little flowers i saw emerging and now i'm eyeing the little rocket-shaped pods with something approaching hope. with any luck i'll be able to just cut them off into a big bag so it can infest the yard at our new house. everyone says that arugula gets more bitter as it goes to seed, but we've been eating it happily at least once a week.
the strawberries are yielding maybe a berry a week. in the face of such incompetent plants, i had to return to the farmer's market. and i was weak. i can rationalize that tiny indoor plants are not hard to move, but i would have gladly bought a tree (a TREE mind you!) if it came bearing these wonderful, octopus flowers!
the farmer's market is always a joy... but today i had the added pleasure of having nowhere to park. it's on sunday, it's crowded, and the traffic is so awful it brings to mind the churches in the strip malls of dallas where i grew up! so i went across the street to park at the lumber yard, where i found the most fantastic garden...
piles of old scrap metal had sat, under the rain and sun's communion with seeds and pieces of old trash. and the grass grew under strange circular skies. welcome to the mattress.
old tractors sit as their bones and veins began to melt together. and their remains take on an otherworldly character. alien? or maybe aquatic?
i admit i have an affinity for these things. salt and water and friction were my best friends in art school since corrosion is one way to reduce the evidence of the artist's hand. and as ever, what it doesn't erase, it makes weird...
giddy
recumbent
nerdy
confused
thirsty
oh no they didn't. yes, they did. at least i have my memories...
here is where giants tread.
brave and won't stay behind the barricade.
to look.
distressed
enthralled
we're moving and my garden is not as mighty as i would like it to be. i didn't plant anything after i learned it was all to be landscaped, instead i pulled everything that i had ever planted out of the ground. leave no man behind! so everything is in a lifeboat of sorts, waiting to stretch their roots again. soon guys... i promise. my brother-in-law actually asked if someone had stolen our plants when he saw the holes. and i've been pretty good about not buying things that will just have to get shifted around when they come tear out the patio. i think that's why this scabiosa is trying so desperately to get in. i have to restrain it with a pushpin, or it would be beheaded by the sliding door. 
