Dispatches from the City of Angels
I'm a writer and humorist living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my novel LOSING CLEMENTINE out March 6 from William Morrow. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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"Taint what a horse looks like, it’s what a horse be." - A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett
"Trying to take it easy after you've finished a manuscript is like trying to take it easy when you have a grease fire on a kitchen stove." - Jan Burke
"Put on your big girl panties, and deal with it." - Mom
"How you do anything is how you do everything."
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Oh, L.A., how we love thee
Reasons No. 387 and 388 why it's good to live in L.A.
Sometimes you have a week or a day or minute that's just so darn L.A., so completely of this place, that such a conglomeration of events could not possibly have occurred anywhere else.
We start out with Patti Smith in concert at the Santa Monica Pier for FREE, which would be awesome enough on its own. The California coast stretched out on either side of you, waves breaking under you, a giant ferris wheel behind you, the city backlighting the stage. But then halfway through when she does her version of "White Rabbit," she brings out the special surprise guest - Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I'm sure it's sacrilege for me to say so, but I think he gave Patti a run for her money, even if he did keep all his clothes on. (Somewhat unusual for the RHCP, who are known for performing in one strategically placed tube sock. Not that they split the tube sock. That would be one tube sock per person - just to be clear.) Of course Patti was awesome in her own right. She has that whole yes-I-AM-an-icon-bow-before-me thing going, but in a likeable sort of way. You have to appreciate a woman willing to discuss her fiber consumption so frankly.
And then later that week, I wander down to my friendly neighborhood meditation center to get my Buddha on. Thirty or forty people all there on a Wednesday night to work out the kinks. Some members of the center bring offerings to leave on the altar, which are all color coordinated for the month. It's been yellow and green lately, and the enlightened one had at his disposal several bags of potato chips, flowers, yellow and green Jelly Bellys and Mike and Ike candies. Odd? Yes. So I had to ask the teacher. What's up with the junk food? Turns out when you're an enlightened being and therefore need nothing - talk about hard to buy for - the best thing people can do is bringing you pretty, frivolous things of joy and amusement. A spiritual being who craves Abba Zabbas? That's my kind of guy. I have long felt the zen property of Twizzlers has been seriously underappreciated. And frivolous or not, I left feeling a whole lot nicer than when I went in. And it lasted all week. (Try getting that out of prescription bottle, I say.)
So good to be California dreaming...
Sometimes you have a week or a day or minute that's just so darn L.A., so completely of this place, that such a conglomeration of events could not possibly have occurred anywhere else.
We start out with Patti Smith in concert at the Santa Monica Pier for FREE, which would be awesome enough on its own. The California coast stretched out on either side of you, waves breaking under you, a giant ferris wheel behind you, the city backlighting the stage. But then halfway through when she does her version of "White Rabbit," she brings out the special surprise guest - Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I'm sure it's sacrilege for me to say so, but I think he gave Patti a run for her money, even if he did keep all his clothes on. (Somewhat unusual for the RHCP, who are known for performing in one strategically placed tube sock. Not that they split the tube sock. That would be one tube sock per person - just to be clear.) Of course Patti was awesome in her own right. She has that whole yes-I-AM-an-icon-bow-before-me thing going, but in a likeable sort of way. You have to appreciate a woman willing to discuss her fiber consumption so frankly.
And then later that week, I wander down to my friendly neighborhood meditation center to get my Buddha on. Thirty or forty people all there on a Wednesday night to work out the kinks. Some members of the center bring offerings to leave on the altar, which are all color coordinated for the month. It's been yellow and green lately, and the enlightened one had at his disposal several bags of potato chips, flowers, yellow and green Jelly Bellys and Mike and Ike candies. Odd? Yes. So I had to ask the teacher. What's up with the junk food? Turns out when you're an enlightened being and therefore need nothing - talk about hard to buy for - the best thing people can do is bringing you pretty, frivolous things of joy and amusement. A spiritual being who craves Abba Zabbas? That's my kind of guy. I have long felt the zen property of Twizzlers has been seriously underappreciated. And frivolous or not, I left feeling a whole lot nicer than when I went in. And it lasted all week. (Try getting that out of prescription bottle, I say.)
So good to be California dreaming...
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