* Curiosity Cabinet *

Notable Redheads, 1: Neko Case

2009-05-25T00:53:00.000-07:00

Her latest album, Middle Cyclone, has made me a fan big-time -- I am obsessed with "This Tornado Loves You." (After a brief commercial, you can see her perform it live on Letterman HERE.) Notable Redheads, 1 is solo artist/New Pornographers' band member Neko Case.

Denial & Persuasion

2009-05-24T23:13:00.000-07:00

The last few days I have been in denial, retreating from the world to read Jane Austen's final completed novel, Persuasion. I was familiar with the story via the movie -- which is one of my favorites, if only because it features the fabulous Fiona Shaw as glowing naval wife Mrs. Croft (perhaps even as a redhead?! Or did I invent that?). I snuck out of bed early Saturday morning and curled up on the couch with tooooo many cups of coffee, escaping into the love story of Anne Elliott and Captain Wentworth (aka Ciaran Hinds!). Eventually, I realized that a tile I purchased a couple years ago at a going-out-of-business sale at a local art gallery perfectly captured the physical and emotional environment of the story. With its moody skies, towering ships, stoic hero and daydreamy heroine, it's like crawling directly into the action. I am again delighting in my good fortune finding such an enchanting piece.

Though the romantic intrigue hinges on Captain Wentworth's lovely, exciting, feverish epistolary declaration of his unyielding love for Anne, I was struck by the closing sentences of the novel, which shift perspective to the reality of war and the value of the Navy:

Anne was tenderness itself, and she had the full worth of it in Captain Wentworth's affection. His profession was all that could ever make her friends wish that tenderness less; the dread of a future war all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried in being a sailor's wife, but she must pay the tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession which is, if possible, more distinguished in its domestic virtues than in its national importance.

THE END

The thought that counted

2009-05-11T22:00:00.001-07:00

The thought that counted on Saturday was: Happy Birthday! After a trip to the favorite neighborhood cupcake pusher, a long wait in line, careful selection, and even more careful placement in a plastic bag to be settled atop lovely ice cubes in the cooler...the poor things were crushed by the beverages I squeezed into the mobile ice box. Unbelievable. But still quite good -- and nobody was too proud to pluck a cupcake from the box top or extricate one from the corner.

Strange Southern Relief

2009-04-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, it does appear that things -- i.e. the economy, personal finances, etc. -- just might go all the way to Hell in a handbag. What a reprieve Tennessee Williams has offered in this odd, sad, hopeful little poem, which I recently stumbled upon in this volume. Cheers to the strange, the crazed and the queer.

I THINK THE STRANGE, THE CRAZED, THE QUEER

I think the strange, the crazed, the queer
will have their holiday this year,
I think for just a little while
there will be pity for the wild.

I think in places known as gay,
in secret clubs and private bars,
the damned will serenade the damned
with frantic drums and wild guitars.

I think for some uncertain reason,
mercy will be shown this season
to the lovely and misfit,
to the brilliant and deformed --

I think they will be housed and warmed
And fed and comforted awhile before, with such a tender smile,
the earth destroys her crooked child.

Spring Surprise

2009-04-16T21:51:00.000-07:00

Someone has built a nest in the Chinese lantern on the porch...

Fuzzy zoom on Mama Bird setting up house in the lantern

Hungry,

hungry babies.

But can she bake a cherry pie?

2008-03-06T19:28:00.000-08:00

We missed it in the theaters. We just get so busy! Despite the reminders that it is important to support female directors the first weekend... we missed it. And so it was that Margot and I planned a get-together to watch Waitress at my place on DVD. (Thank you, Netflix!) But not just a movie night -- we decided to make PIE in honor of the film, and the beloved writer/director who came to such a tragic end. What I loved about the film: Adrienne Shelly's Dawn was a great character; and those pies, those pies, those pies! I still daydream sometimes about the brie cheese pie.

Judging from the photos, it might have done us good to watch the film first -- then try to make a pie...

Currently Reading...or at least keeping on the end table

2008-03-05T21:44:00.000-08:00

After hearing so many rave reviews of this book, I am finally picking it up. Jane offered it as a birthday gift, and I cannot fathom a stronger recommendation.

I must admit that I am more intrigued by the author, Yann Martel, than by the book so far. I heard him on NPR last year, describing the book club he created for Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Wishing to expand this powerful man's perspective, he decided to send him a book every two weeks, on a Monday. Respecting his demanding schedule, Martel decided to start with a novela, Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych.

I love this enchanting strategy for encouraging humanity and sparking curiosity among the bleak conservative political tribe. I hope Life of Pi brings me as much joy and satisfaction as this book group for 1.

Sunrise on the bridge

2008-03-03T23:07:00.002-08:00

What's right with this picture?

How desperate are Angelenos to leave their cars behind and make tracks en velo? Without fear of mad pollution, road rage or bully buses, I mean...

So desperate that 10,812+ of them met up at the Coliseum yesterday at 5:45 AM to enjoy a 20+ mile bike tour of Los Angeles before the L.A. Marathon officially started. No cars, no lights, no stop signs -- police posted at regular intervals to ensure the streets were free and clear for the cyclists.

Of course, I wouldn't be caught dead out of bed at 5:45 AM on any day -- forget on a Sunday! But somehow...I managed to drag my sleepy self down there with my trusty 1989 Bridgestone MB 6. She served me well on the trails in Berkeley back in the day, and she brought me across the finish line yesterday with ease.

Just Saturday night, some foolish Pistons fan at the ill-fated Clippers game claimed Californians only care about surfing and smoking weed. Not true at all. We here in L.A. find lots of strange ways to spend our time, and we find equally strange ways to explore and celebrate our tacky town!

No fun in the sun

2007-07-06T21:48:00.000-07:00

Iconic artist Shag is featured in the doc "The Sophisticated Misfit," screening Saturday, 7:30 PM at @ the Egyptian Theatre

Why all the silence? Because it's all work and no play for me this summer so far :-( With the exception, of course, of that one afternoon spent boogie-boarding with every high school student in Southern California who had just been released from the school year. It was Bikini Universe in Malibu -- with yearbooks!

Fortunately, this weekend I have the Cinematheque's Enchanted Tiki and Luau Weekend to look forward to, as well as a field trip to Culver City to visit the Museum of Jurassic Technology. What will we see there? I don't know! But I will tell you all about it.

Back to work now. Seriously. Sucks.

Get well soon...?

2007-06-07T20:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I dropped my cell phone into my (full!) cup of coffee. Though I rescued her immediately, she has been playing dead ever since. I've taken her apart to let her air out and pull herself together again, but to no effect. Every now and then I put her back together and plug her in...and she starts to beep and wheeze and gasp as her screen claims with promise, "Charging." But eventually she goes quiet and is dead to the world again.

I'm thinking of making her some pudding to make her feel better. I really need her to feel better. Butterscotch.

Mid-week Holiday

2007-06-04T19:55:00.000-07:00

I lucked out last week and got to tag along with pals who'd had the presence of mind to buy tickets to Roman Holiday, screening in the Los Angeles Conservancy's Last Remaining Seats series. One word: Dreamy. How have I never seen this movie? Is it officially pathetic to be overcome with a belated crush on Gregory Peck? It was so perfect, too, because everyone seems to be off having wonderful adventures and changing up everything for the good these days. Kristin's on holiday - again! - and I want to be galavanting around, too. I've been green with envy. Thankfully, this smart, sassy romantic comedy sent me off into a daydreamy holiday of my own right in the middle of the week.

A big draw of the evening was the movie house: the historic downtown Los Angeles Theatre on Broadway. The 2,000+ seats were filled! Built in 1931, it is sadly a shabbier version of its original glory, but before the show the throngs cruised up the stairways, studied the chandeliers, peeked into the "crying room" that once served mothers and weepy babies, and stomped around the long-forgotten bar. Truly an era gone by. My favorite detail: the painted fairies in each corner of the main lobby, watching over incoming guests.

Film poster from allposters.com

Where I've Been

2007-05-14T17:39:00.000-07:00

Foley artists during NYC live performance (Photo: Margot Gerber)

Mostly, my waking hours during the past few weeks have been consumed by the wild LIVE spectacle that is BRAND UPON THE BRAIN!, Guy Maddin's latest film, presented in limited engagement with Special Guest Narrators (Crispin Glover, Isabella Rossellini, Joie Lee, Lou Reed, etc.), live orchestra, Foley special effects team and castrato singer... The show is in NYC now (sadly, I am not...), travels to Chicago at the end of the week, and comes to La La Land in June -- housed appropriately at the historic Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood.

The reviews have been great, and you just won't find a better antidote to the summer tentpole:

"Guy Maddin's latest astonishment-- has ransacked film history and his own delirious imagination to create a work like none other: a silently shot film about a man who, on revisiting his childhood home, hurtles unto a past where orphan children, coy lesbian lovers, and a mad scientist converge." -- Manohla Dargis, The New York Times

Whatever are young "Guy Maddin's" parents really up to in their lighthouse home/orphanage on a chilly remote island? Overbearing Mother (Gretchen Krich) tracks her son's (Sullivan Brown) every move, calling him home over the "Aerophone" just as something interesting is about to happen! And poor Sis (Maya Lawson) -- Mother will never let her have any fun! The intrigue continues as deranged Mother, hell-bent on restoring her youth, and sinister Scientist-Father (Todd Jefferson Moore) engage in diabolical, secret experimentation…

Come see the show in June! And be our friend on MySpace, won't you? Thanks to Margot for bringing back the great pix from the show in NYC. Is it too late to start a career as a kick-ass Foley artist?

Last chance...

2007-05-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

Bjork, Woodstock, NY, 1991 / photo by Laura Levine

Laura's show is closing soon... From back in the day when she photographed everyone who was anyone in music. Here is her fave photo -- taken in upstate New York, where Bjork started shedding her clothes, running through the woods. See all the photos at the Musician Photo Gallery through Sunday. Or, stay seated where you are and check out the exhibition online.

Congratulations, Laura! Why do you have to live so far away?

Where is the future before it is here?

2007-04-18T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm not a futurist. It's all I can do to pay half attention to the present, with the past on a back-burner for necessary retrieval; any philosophizing about alternate planes of existence or refashioned environments cracks my concentration completely. But despite this, the Open House exhibit currently at Art Center College of Design really impressed me. Originally shown at Germany's Vitra Design Museum, the show presents visions of future living spaces and communities, including historical entries like Buckminster Fuller's Dymaxion house and a series of current proposals. Text on computer print-outs taped to one wall frame the show, suggesting "we often find ourselves living in yesterday's future." It challenges the visitor to engage in the process of exploring more fluid, organic and functional relationships between human beings and their homes and communities. My favorite passage asks:

Can there be a future without a re-examination of the past? Can there be a future without a negotiation of the present? In a world instantly online and mobile, how should we understand both the "where" and the "here" of "Where is the future before it is here?" What if futurity occurs off-grid, a luxury option only available to a few?

The Jellyfish House (Design Team: Iwamoto/Scott/Proces2)

Of the contemporary projects, the Jellyfish House was one of my favorites. Photos and models don't illustrate it effectively -- you have to see the conceptual video to really get it. As the climate changes, the walls move from opaque to transluscent, bringing views of the marshy Bay Area exterior into focus: a sailboat passing, the San Francisco skyline, the quiet tall grass. Is it possible? I have no idea. But it was magical watching a wall disappear to reveal the sea, carrying a sailboat.

Open the House! (Design Team: realities:united)

Another fave was Open the House!, which imagines homes freed up from their current task of maintaining an artificial climate for inhabitants -- because people will wear extra-special climate-control garments to regulate their environments. Roofs and walls become optional design elements, and household and community activities are no longer relegated to interior cells.

Seeing these models, I realized the future is already happening off-grid for some people. And they send keepsakes back for us to admire.

So many books, so little time

2007-04-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

I've stumbled onto Words Without Borders, and my head aches from the gears turning, cranking out plans to devote more time to reading, learn to read faster, triumph over my spacey, unfocused nature, finally step up and be the clear-headed, ambitious, worldly, curious person I was meant to be, etc, etc. Owww.

WWB's stated mission is:

to introduce exciting international writing to the general public—travelers, teachers, students, publishers, and a new generation of eclectic readers—by presenting international literature not as a static, elite phenomenon, but a portal through which to explore the world.

With vibrant photos, compelling book recommendations, and international lit-blog links, the site is a book-lover's candy store. My immediate reactions:

- Love the title That Awful Mess on the via Merulana; but will it be too violent for my weak heart?

- Since Pippi Longstalking was my childhood hero, I am intrigued by Arnon Grunberg's claim that author Astrid Lindgren's superior creation was Karlsson-On-The-Roof, whom he describes as "the best example of a benign anarchist."

- Must read Literature From the Axis of Evil.

Swarm the Tunnel!

2007-04-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

Starting this Friday, Art Center in Pasadena shows off its extensive, innovative Open House: Architecture and Technology for Intelligent Living exhibit. New spatial experiences, new systems of sustainability and new sensory enhancements ? Sign me up. Special bonus: the M&A team has constructed an installation on the exterior of the south campus Wind Tunnel. Complete with strobe lights, "House Swarming" mimics an infestation making its way into the building; if the functionality is successfully implemented, it will react to common contaminants in the air: cigarette smoke, car exhaust, perfume, etc. Must go, must see!

Up on the green roof of the Wind Tunnel you'll find sci-fi looking structures that are the brainchild of a German designer. Supposedly, they modulate the atmosphere in the building by absorbing heat. Jenna says that if the exterior ever gets punctured, an important German travels by special helicopter to repair it with a super-secret, patented tape.

The physical confines of our lives appear to be falling away, but I think we have to be really paying attention to notice! (Jane says we're about to enter the Age of Conceptualization...but I'm not quite sure yet what that means...)

Happenings

2007-04-10T16:22:00.000-07:00

News in the neighborhood:

* That Yarn Store in Eagle Rock has moved! Monthly happy hour knit, as well as classes and myriad exciting purchasing opportunities all take place on Eagle Rock Boulevard now, just below Colorado.

* This Saturday is again NELA night -- not to be missed.

* Dark Matter Research: Is it really a job, or an underground experiment? Occidental College has a position open -- are you qualified?

Working with the Physics Department Chair and faculty, the Postdoctoral Fellow in Dark Matter Research will be associated with the DRIFT collaboration. The DRIFT project is a collaborative effort to use a low pressure negative-ion TPC to search for WIMP dark matter. DRIFT is unique in its ability to reject background and detect WIMP dark matter.

My Igloo-Mermaid Life

2007-04-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

Finally Netflixing Vanya on 42nd Street, I was surprised by this impassioned plea that somehow (how?!) didn't make an impression on me when I read the play:

(Vanya to Yelena) But why are you languishing, my dear? My splendor? Wake up! Pulse with life! You? When the blood of mermaids courses through your veins?! Wake up to your mermaid life. For once in your life, let yourself go. Rise to the heights, and then plunge to the frothy brine.

Indeed. And with that, I shed the stained, smelly, cumbersome baggage of the past month and enter April -- which surely will be better!

April 1st was blessed with the christening of UKENDT aka IGLOO, the new installation at Materials & Applications in Silverlake. The official line about the project by Danish artist Anja Franke is:

IGLOO perverts hot and cold, tropical and arctic to create an experiential phenomenon in a time of rapid flux. An icon of cold weather for a hot Los Angeles summer.

Very clever idea, fantastically executed in the space where Bubbles once lived. Due to circumstances I shall no longer dwell on, I was unable to help out this time around -- but I am not one to miss an opening party. Popsicles and Klondike bars were offered, along with cold beer; also, alternating DJs donned galoshes and climbed into the nearby pond to spin atmospheric tunes that completed the scene. It was very peaceful and cool sitting on the soft benches inside, watching the steady drips of water from the ceiling, half-believing a giant ice structure was melting slowly in the middle of LA.

Anja was supercool. She was very pleased with the final product and enjoyed the building process with the volunteers. We talked about how cool it would be if she constructed a compound of igloos in the courtyard of P.S. 1 in Long Island City, NY as part of their annual summer installations. A friend/fan approached her, praising her piece and offering her a square of chocolate, "It's chocolate with masala." After a beat, he made the very polite gesture of offering me -- a complete stranger -- a square as well, since I was standing with her. Of course I said thank you, yes! Yum - what is masala? Anyway, it is divine in chocolate. He joined our conversation again later -- but stared blankly at me and then immediately excused himself when I gushed (with complete sincerity), "That was so good! I just love what they're doing with chocolate these days; such fantastic innovations!"

The year of enchantment continues...

Freak Folk Comes to LA

2007-03-30T11:09:00.000-07:00

Emily Wells (without her Trio)

Photo by Anne Carmack

The best part about seeing former Luscious Jackson crooner, Jill Cuniff, at The Hotel Cafe was her opening act: a wood nymph who plays every instrument you see in the tub, plus a few more. Light-up stars adorned her hair (powered by the battery pack tucked under her shirt), and the gal could really sing. Imagine Bjork crossed with Martha Wainwright crossed with Beth Orton... Pasadena Weekly quite rightly hails the "resolutely indie" appeal of her "freak folk."

Julie and I chatted up the 25-year-old musical maven after the show and told her we were her newest groupies.You can catch Emily Wells and her peeps at The Hotel Cafe again on April 11th and at Silverlake Lounge April 25th. Or, just become her friend on MySpace.

Favorite Card for the Season

2007-03-29T14:32:00.000-07:00

"E was an exquisite elf" from F Was a Fanciful Frog: An A to Z of Lyrics

Illustrated by Edmund Dulac

Enchanting enough to join the Inner Circle of Favorite Cards, currently inhabited by best winter holiday and Halloween season cards, this treasure came from Eagle Rock goldmine, Owl Talk. About E:

E was an exquisite elf
Who enjoyed being quite by herself.
She delighted to play
In an elegant way
With the things that she found on a shelf.

Candyswappers: Chocolate Edition

2007-03-28T17:12:00.000-07:00

As the second week of March rolled around, I started hearing hushed warnings about the bad fortune the coming Ides of March might bring. Well, I say forget that! As far as I'm concerned, the entire month of March has been a total bust. Previously mentioned misfortunes, other disappointments and debacles, and possibly some chemical imbalances in the brain have left me feeling like I'm stuck in a cartoon, with a scheming coyote dropping giant buckets of gravel on my head again and again. The month smelled like rotten milk and sounded like metal scraped across concrete.

Until my special delivery arrived from Alberta, Canada, that is... I say it again: Hurray for Candyswappers! Somehow it always comes through at the perfect time. This edition's theme was Chocolate; simple and to the point, but with room for creativity.

Basically, I totally scored. My swap partner, Kym, is from the more civil nation to the north, and she made a special effort to send milk chocolate treats not available in the States. I barely managed to assemble my loot in a photogenic manner before I had unwrapped and devoured half the Lindt mini eggs -- I had to keep sweeping wrappers out of the shot! I also ripped open the box of Junior Caramels (cousins to Junior Mints) and steadily made those disappear. (I was careful to close the box up tightly again, so it looked pristine and still like a present in the photo.) Kym adhered admirably to my Personal Candy Questionnaire, in which I stated my undying love for caramel and preference for milk chocolate.

Once I documented the bounty, I caught my reflection in a mirror and discovered I had chocolate smudges on my forehead.

Thank you, Kym!

Here's all my loot:

The Light at the End of the Circle

2007-03-27T14:06:00.000-07:00

Despite all the hand-wringing and complaining about traffic and the price of gas in Southern California, the truth is: an Angeleno with a car in the shop is relegated to the Fifth Circle of Hell. When I finally take my car in for regular service, and mention the strange noise it makes in certain gears, I fear I may be out a few hundred dollars. Then the mechanic calls and delivers the news (transmission problems, new clutch a good idea), and provides an estimate that renders me speechless. "Are you okay? Are you still there?" he calls out into the phone. "No, and yes," I reply.

6 days without a car could be an opportunity to explore the mass transit system in this town. There are buses all around, and they go everywhere, right? It will be like living in SF or NYC again maybe. I could learn to be more green, even when my car is back from sleep-away camp. Except it's not good. It's actually awful and very depressing. The only upside is I get to read on the bus. I get lost in a great read and finish the whole book. But otherwise, on a bad day -- a day it takes me 2 hours to get home, because my bus never comes -- I have yogurt for dinner -- with martinis -- and sulk. When it's finally time to retrieve my car, it takes a 1-hour-and-45-minute bus ride to make the 15-minute drive to the shop. Thank God it's over.

Except...that the gears don't seem to be shifting quite right. Why is the car grinding into first and second, no matter what I do? I can't face any more problems this week, so I promise that next week I will call and express my concern. I am informed by a cousin that I have a headlight out in front. Whaa? And I discover two of my windows won't go down. I feel less and less secure about my newly maintenanced ride.

Of course, you can run from Trouble, but you cannot hide. Especially on the 405 Freeway, where my new clutch starts to go out on me during the trip home from the Getty Museum 6 days later. I no longer have fourth gear, so I am shifting directly from third to fifth. If I ease off the gas, the car falls completely out of gear. So I coast in neutral on the freeway until I need more gas; then I throw it into fifth and put the pedal to the metal as long as I can. It's frightening at first, but then it's sort of comical in a Little Miss Sunshine way. I wait for the horn to start squeaking, or a hubcap to fly off and roll across the freeway. And then I am home. And then I am driving back to the mechanic's shop to park my sick car on the street, dropping the key into the overnight drop-box.

And then I have one more week without a car, because every day I learn they need just one more day. I finish a book I have been neglecting; it's okay, not great.

Despite my mention of the dead headlight, my newly reclaimed car is still one-eyed. I think I might dissolve into a puddle of tears; but instead, I drive around looking for a local shop that can fix it. On my second try, I find a place just blocks from my house -- and 5 minutes and $20 later, I am on my way. Trials and tribulations completed! (knock wood, cross fingers, spit over your right shoulder, fast!!)

Waahappened? / Wine Blogging Whenever

2007-03-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? How can I account for my time the past two months? I have no idea. So let's move on.

Last thing I remember, I had best intentions to participate in the January Wine Blogging Wednesday event -- special theme: Biodynamic Wine. From the start, I had an inkling it was an ill-fated endeavor, simply because my thoughts immediately turned to super heroes, the super bio-dynamic wines they might drink at special councils where important universal catastrophes were reviewed, etc., etc. Didn't really bode well for an even marginally sophisticated, informative post about wine-tasting. (Even by my admittedly very low standards.) Worse still, biodynamic wine-making is an unusual, complex process, which required more research than I truthfully committed. Here are some highlights, swiped from a very smart publication:

In the 1960s, German anthroposophist Maria Thun refined Steiner's theories. After forty years of personal research, Thun developed a calendar for sowing, cultivating and harvesting. Using this calendar, she claimed, would maximize the cosmic effects and elemental forces on plants. She divided plants into root (earth), leafy (water), flowering (air), and fruit bearing (fire) components and assigned each component three zodiac signs. Under each sign are additional subdivisions for fruit, leaf, root and flower days. The best time for any field work is when the moon moves through the plant's associated sign. Today, gardeners can buy annual calendars detailing appropriate days for any given garden activity based on Thun's theories.
Thun also developed natural preparations she claimed are essential to plants. For example, preparation BD500 is cow horn manure?dung placed in a horn from a female animal, to enhance the feminine primordial forces, and buried in the vineyard over the winter. The horn supposedly captures cosmic energy and transfers it to the manure. The following spring the horn manure is mixed with warm water, seeped for an hour, and sprayed on a "root day" at the rate of 2.5 ounces per acre. This is supposed to "halt winter decomposition and bind energy and vitality to the roots." In the fall, the manure can be applied to cover crops to stimulate seed germination.

My original momentum led me to the very savy staff at Silverlake Wine Company, who helped me select a promising French red. At a family pizza-making, game-playing evening, I poured the biodynamic beauty and solicited smart reaction statements. K's contribution, "Mmm... It goes down real smooth," pretty much set the tone; and really, it was all down hill from there. I won't bore you with the details. I highly recommend the wine, and biodynamic explorations in general, but that's all she wrote for me on the subject.

Subsequent weeks have brought wine-touring adventures in Santa Barbara county and Lazy Sunday tasting at my beloved Colorado Wine Company in Eagle Rock. But, sadly, no wineblogging : - (

Hazards in the Home!

2007-01-26T15:33:00.000-08:00

I survived! But last week brought some trials.

People who know a lot about antiques and domestic arts tell me I have a very special oven -- a WWII-era number that proud owner-types refurbish and polish to a shine. It's all right, I guess. Anyways, last week the thing seemed to come out of a slumber of some kind, and the timer started to buzz, completely out of the blue. At first it was off and on, a low, steady buzz. That was when I tried Tactic #1 to turn it off: I fiddled with all the knobs, manually spun the hands of the clock around in search of the elusive end-time, then repeated same over the course of two days. From the next room, the sound brought a vague sense of alarm: The cookies are burning! The soufflé will sink! Come quickly! I started to imagine a resident ghost, finally come out of hiding to get on with domestic life while I shuffled around in the background. I thought it might make a good story if I could flesh out the idea.

But then it suddenly drove me BONKERS! And after repeating Tactic #1 to no effect, I pulled the hammer out of a nearby drawer and moved on to Tactic #2: wacking the hell out of the timer knobs until there was silence. Oh, how satisfying it is to solve problems with a hammer. Quiet, quiet, and away the hammer went back in the drawer. Until the buzzing returned again later -- this time louder and constant, rather than intermittent. I repeated Tactic #2 many times, until I completely shattered the glass that covered the clock (Bad aim. But it looks much better without the eons-old, dirty cover.) Repeat, repeat, but no success, and finally, only a sense of stupidity and maybe even remorse over my drastic, unconventional home repair methods.

After Tactic #3, ignoring the constant loud buzz, failed, I came to face my phantom oven. Using only my eyes -- no busy fingers or heavy tools -- I studied the appliance and finally noticed the fat cord plugged into the wall behind it. Why does a gas oven need electricity? I don't know, but I instantly moved on to Tactic #4. As soon as I pulled the plug, there was silence. Complete and permanent silence.

I enjoyed the blissful silence and the sweet feeling of success, until I accidentally aimed my liquid hand-soap directly at my eye ball, causing extreme pain and startling the hell out of myself. My eye closed tightly, but the peppermint soap stung like mad, so I had to pry it open and splash water all around. An eye ball sore from being smacked with a stream of liquid soap is a very strange, unhappy thing. Once I flushed out my eye, I made a beeline for the frozen berries and settled them onto my sad little eye. I kept checking that I wasn't blind, then went to bed hoping all would be cured in the morning.

Phew. No domestic trials to report this week. Of course, I always remember it could be much worse.

Forever After & Cupcakes

2007-01-12T16:18:00.000-08:00

Another weekend in Fog-Town, celebrating Forever After with a happy couple and their friends and family. I have noted: people who find true love later in life prefer cupcakes to a wedding cake. And young children begging for cupcakes before the ceremony even begins will likely be given one from the back of the tower.

I couldn't face the 5 again, so at the last minute I pulled together all my nickels and bought a supremely over-priced airplane ticket. It doesn't actually shave off so much time, but it is so much calmer and more pleasant. We even had birds join us indoors at the Jet Blue gate in Long Beach -- just hopping around, hiding under seats, flying around a little. And who doesn't like birds? Very nice. What people don't like is bats. Watching the little birds, a pilot told the story of the time a woman snuck her pet bat onto a flight in a fanny pack. She made it through security and every other hoop, but when she tried to feed it during the flight, the damn thing escaped from the fanny pack and flew throughout the cabin, creating mad, mad havoc and forcing an emergency landing.

Aside from a very fun, beautiful, cupcake-enhanced wedding at Fort Mason Center, I managed to squeeze in a trip to the SF MoMA, mostly to check out Anselm Kiefer's "Heaven and Earth" show. Big pieces. Big ideas. Very profound. Full of myth and ideas about transcending to Heaven, etc., etc. I mostly really loved his painting, "Falling Stars," and everying he did from 2004 on.

But really, the trip to the MoMA was all about Istanbul residents performing karaoke versions of Smiths songs. Now that is something to see. British artist, Phil Collins, presented the second installment of his video work, the world won't listen, and it is truly remarkable. The first installment featured Bogotá residents, but I can't imagine they topped these performers. Collins's effort to subvert our expectations of and media-fed ideas about citizens of Turkey succeeds powerfully as devoted fans deliver spot-on, emotional, hilarious, and disarmingly unselfconscious renditions of the songs that hold a permanent place in the hearts (or the pits of the stomach) of a wildly devoted international fan-base. (Some pictures can be viewed here in the MoMA's press area.) Now where can we go to see "Baghdad Screen Tests," his remake of Andy Warhol's famous project?

I also managed to see the latest offering by North Beach's sidewalk poet. Though it certainly goes against the intended temporality of the work, I played impressed tourist and photographed his new poem. Clever gig he's got, though Ruth says the only really great thing he's ever written was a line that even made the papers: "sickly black crap only at Gap."

Friday Notes

2007-01-12T09:09:00.000-08:00

* Tomorrow is Second Saturday, which means another trip to Highland Park for NELA Night aka open galleries. You can find the map of participating galleries here.

* Adbusters promotes International Slow Down Week, 1/14 - 1/20:

Still feeling frazzled from the December whirlwind of holiday shopping, gift giving, and parties? Already burned out by extra hours at the office in the New Year? Tired of spending more time in traffic than you do with your family and friends?

It's not too late to slow down and renew your intentions for a saner, more mindful way of life in 2007. If you’re ready to experiment with ad ifferent, more fulfilling rhythm, join us in celebrating the second annual INTERNATIONAL SLOW DOWN WEEK, January 14-20.

For one week, instead of running to catch the bus or zipping in and out of traffic, try walking to work. Instead of grabbing take-out on the way home, cook a meal with your family. Leave the TV and computer off, and play an old-fashioned board game, or just sit and catch up with family and friends. If possible, take a day off work — and then while it away with a long walk and an afternoon nap.

* The American Cinematheque pays tribute to Helen Mirren (in-person!) and screens The Queen and Some Mother's Son tomorrow night at the Egyptian.

* I am introduced by an unlikely source (don't ask...) to the website that will bring my house-swap dreams to life!

* Zowie! Somehow I missed Variety's announcement last August that Broadway darling, Des McAnuff (The Who's Tommy, Jersey Boys, The Wiz), has a new musical in development with the Flaming Lips, based on their album "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots."

* E! online announces Alan Cumming's recent wedding, which included a newlywed skate (via indieWIRE):

The host of "The Anniversary Party" now has his own milestone to celebrate. Alan Cumming and graphic artist Grant Shaffer tied the knot Saturday in a civil ceremony at the Old Royal Naval College near London. The couple walked down the aisle to the theme song from 1994's "Circle of Friends," Cumming's first big film, and then took guests to a nearby rented ice rink for a newlywed skate to the tune of Queen's "You're My Best Friend." "Not only are we so happy to be able to celebrate our love for each other, but also to be able to do it in a country that properly recognizes the rights of same-sex couples..."

Old Letters

2007-01-10T16:48:00.000-08:00

One of the accessories of the urban nomad is The Stash of Bags. The paper, plastic, super-size, and petite bags which contain personal belongings: important and surely confidential papers; CDs and books that have fallen out of favor; a stapler; a single sock; baby pictures (whose babies??); flashy announcements of exciting cultural programs in some other city many moons ago; half-used lipstick tubes; lovely business cards from a good job you once had and ditched; cheap business cards from the people you networked with in your new town before you knew better (or just got tired); and pennies. Lots of pennies. The motley assortment of tricks and trash you couldn't bare to sort or pack or throw away accompanies you as you drift through layovers to your next "final" destination and can properly de-clutter and organize your life.

A couple years ago, when it was housed in the trunk of my car, my Stash of Bags brought me to tears. I was madly trying to lock down an apartment (finally!) and needed to produce all manner of important documents...all of which were "filed away" somewhere in the Stash of Bags. I snuck out of work periodically throughout the day so I could camp out in the parking lot and sift through The Stash to find that certain file of Very Important Historical Documents. It was such an absurd, desperate afternoon.

The happy ending is I found every Important Document and got the apartment. The remaining, smaller Stash of Bags is now housed in my closet. I recently decided to put to rest one bag and organize it by any means necessary. What a lark to find letters, postcards, announcements, and other personal correspondence from the past 17 years or more! Since my goal was to organize, not to get lost down memory maze, I tried to refrain from reading everything. But reviewing the long-forgotten addresses and seeing the stacks of hand-written notes from loved ones pile up was heartening. And it was so satisfying to sort and square them all away in a handsome box!

Two days later, I came across this passage in Machado De Assis's Epitaph of a Small Winner, in which the (otherwise foolish!) protagonist makes a case for old letters:

Unenlightened reader, if you do not keep the letters of your youth you will never enjoy the pleasure of seeing yourself, far off in the flatteringly dim light, with a three-cornered hat, seven-league boots, and curled mustachios, dancing at a ball to the music of Anacreontic pipes. By all means, save the letters of your youth.

Or, if you do not like the figure of the three-cornered hat, I shall use an expression of an old sailor who used to come to Cotrim’s house. I shall say that, if you save the letters of your youth, you will be able to “sing a yearning.” It seems that our sailors give this name to songs about the land that are sung only at sea. It would be hard to find a more poetic expression of nostalgia.

365 New Days -- Free, No Charge!

2007-01-03T16:14:00.000-08:00

Photo by Robin McInerny

I knew 2007 was going to be something special. Just because every day of the year felt special so far. But last night it was confirmed for me by an outside source.

Driving home at about 11 PM, I noticed two police cars on the other side of the freeway and traffic at a stand-still behind them. Making sure to drive safely, I craned my neck to see what the fuss was...and what a fantastic, magical fuss it was! Squatting over at least two lanes was a ginormous wood-carved squirrel eating an acorn -- bushy tail and all. And I mean ginormous -- the thing was big and tall and wide and completely amazing and ridiculous. Being an L.A. driver, my first reaction was: "Thank heavens it's on that side; gosh, I feel bad for those drivers -- they're gonna' be stuck there a long time." My second thought was: "Hmmm... I wonder how a giant squirrel ended up on the freeway."

The giant squirrel made me so happy, I called Margot right away. We had just finished our first round of "personal re-branding campaign" cocktail strategy sessions (sort of like goal-setting or resolution-writing, but much sexier and hopefully more effective) at Formosa Cafe, so I knew she'd be on the road home. Very smart, in-the-loop, on-the-ball Margot informed me that the squirrel was from her favorite Rose Parade float, and it must have fallen off a truck on its way home. True, true, the flow of traffic was from Pasadena, home of fancy stores and foods, a new H&M, and the annual Rose Parade. A little of the magic faded, but I was still excited. I decided to retrieve my camera from home and return to document the spectacle.

Except when I got back to the freeway, just moments later, there was no squirrel. And traffic was flying. Which made me think I had imagined the whole thing. Which actually seemed really, really cool. 2007 is definitely going to be hilarious and exciting if I am going to either A) see giant squirrels stranded in the middle of the freeway or B) imagine that I see giant squirrels stranded in the middle of the freeway. Oh, hurray, I love this year.

Even before the enchanted new year began, the last few days of 2006 were pretty great. Christmas eve was blessed with yummy tamales and loads of presents that just couldn't be saved for Christmas day. And Christmas day was spent making cookies with heaps of powdered sugar, taking the dogs to the dog beach for their present, and making homemade pizza. A good time was had by all, and so much great loot was received by all.

A whirlwind trip up to the Bay Area for the lovely wedding of a very dear friend was enhanced by a sighting of Frances McDormand and Joel Coen coming out of the divey 2 AM Club bar in Mill Valley. And the requisite trip to House of Nanking brought fabulous Chinese food and their super-fancy new tea offering (plus a lingering daze from the horrific acoustics...).

New Year's eve was pretty spectacular, too. Dinner at Fatty's in Eagle Rock (who knew they had a $5 happy hour every night?? Champagne cocktails, martinis, etc., etc.) -- so yummy, and the vibe was mellow and just a little bit weird. But in a good way. A sign at the entrance announces, "No Dolman Sleeves." Uh. Okay.

Finally, the last scrappy remnants of 2006 were spent with Cat Power, Gnarls Barkley, and the bizarre and beautiful Flaming Lips.

Out with the old, in the the strange and wonderful!

Blogging By Mail: Holiday Swap

2006-12-22T09:31:00.000-08:00

Another L.A. Christmas, which means another season spent humming "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" as the temperature reaches 70 degrees outside. This week we finally got a little bit of a chill, so I can bust out my mittens and scarves and sweaters; but I saw a guy at the gas station chilling out in a t-shirt and jeans. Meanwhile, the streets are jammed with frantic shoppers who can't wait to snake that parking space you've been waiting for. Alas, Culture Jammers was more than a day late with the Buy Nothing Christmas alert.

In the thick of the holiday hustle, I am thrilled to be part of Blogging By Mail's Holiday Swap. Hosted by Stephanie at Dispensing Happiness, this swap paired bloggers around the world for an exchange of holiday-themed care packages. And how I love, love, love packages waiting on the doorstep when I get home!

And this one immediately held so much promise, with its lovely blue butterfly tape and return address in Switzerland! By a stroke of fantastic luck, I was paired with a true globe-trotter from Australia who is currently working in Geneva. My swap buddy, Kiriel, sent a package of authentic treats from Australia and Switzerland -- from Vegemite to Lindt chocolate to Australia tattoos to raclette spices. She also included a very thoughtful letter explaining some of the more exotic items, like the cookies aka "bikkies" named ANZACs, after the Australia New Zealand Army Corp. She explains:

During the first world war, these biscuits were made by the women at home and sent to the men in the trenches -- note that the recipe contains no eggs or milk, consequently these biscuits can last for a long time (until you taste one, after which there is no stopping!).

She included the recipe and stressed that the secret ingredient, golden syrup, is essential.

The other exotic item that required some background information was the chocolate cauldron, or "marmite" in French. Kiriel's explanation of this historically significant treat was elegant and informative, but I will cut to the chase here: the chocolate cauldron filled with vegetable-shaped marzipan commemorates the brave, resourceful Mme Royaume who helped staunch the Duke of Savoy's attack on Geneva in 1602 by pouring an entire pot of steaming winter soup, followed by the heavy cauldron, onto the heads of the marauding troops. In an annual Genovois tradition, the oldest and youngest members of a family take hold of the chocolate cauldron and break it apart, while shouting in French, "and thus perish the enemies of the Republic!" My cauldron is small, but apparently they can be 3 or 4 feet high, sometimes even bigger.

The gifts requiring no explanation were also lovely: chocolate coins, a Christmas tree cookie cutter, more swiss chocolates... So many great holiday treasures. Thank you to my excellent swap partner, Kiriel! The season is definitely enhanced by international connections and the exchange of familial and national holiday traditions.

My own package to Sweden was received by Kristina of Clivia's Cuisine. She was very gracious not to mention the lovely ornament that arrived in 1,000 little pieces due to my poor packaging...

The Patron Saint of Crickets

2006-12-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

A couple months ago an email went out at work declaring that over the weekend, the building would be fumigated to clear out the crickets and other pests. Though they aren't always visible, the chirping of the crickets frequently reaches a comical pitch. At 8 AM, the office is truly deserted and quiet, but for the crickets. Though I heard others gasp in surprise at the email, I have gone down in history as The Troublemaker. After a heated, hilarious, very long discussion in the office, my boss officially called off The Cricket Massacre, and I was to blame. Something about my finger-pointing accusation, "You people better worry about your karma," my decision to start painting Grasshopper Guernica, and my rallying cry to show up on Saturday and lie down in front of the doors. The subsequent email announcing the cancellation of the fumigation directed employees to me if they required assistance with crickets, spiders, or any other insect enemies.

At first, I simply handed out empty yogurt containers and magazines, and demonstrated the easy, effective way to capture and release an unwanted insect office-mate. But my co-workers have long misplaced their Insect Removal Kits, so now I hear my name shouted out across the office; they yell while hopping around, trying to stomp the creatures out of their offices, so I can retrieve them in the hallway and escort them outside.

Such is my lot as The Patron Saint of Crickets. It's not an esteemed or popular role, but until the building gets knocked down in three months to make room for a parking lot, it's one I am stuck with.

I Heart George Clooney

2006-12-13T08:49:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sam Jones

Finally, tonight: AMC airs the American Cinematheque's tribute to George Clooney! And I will be there to watch as the show is projected onto the big screen as part of the Cinematheque's holiday party. Sigh... I was supposed to volunteer at the event back in October, but I ended up having to work. I had serious plans to visit a Botánica and purchase a hair shampoo or floor wax that would make George Clooney fall in love with me. I wasn't always starstruck, and I wasn't even a big George Clooney fan; but as the date of the event approached, I found myself swooning over Hollywood's progressive, Italian-villa-owning bachelor. I suppose it's hopeless now.

In any case, you can bet your holiday credit card debt that the channel will edit out Ellen Barkin's blunt (some said "crass") admission on stage that she was the only actress in the room who wasn't afraid to admit she'd slept with the honoree. Those weren't her words exactly, but I'm doing my own family-friendly censoring here on *Curiosity Cabinet*.

House Swap!

2006-12-12T15:30:00.000-08:00

It's kind of amazing how poorly written and weakly directed Nancy Meyers's The Holiday is. The long speeches that tumble out of the actors' mouths like boulders. The meandering plot that unfolds an ultimately predictible, simple story. And yet, I was totally engaged for the near-3-hour experience. My standards for romantic comedies are quite low, because I love a happy ending. In this one, it's all about the house swap. Sign me up! And about Kate Winslet's clothes. And about Jude Law, who I usually find scrawny and skeevy; but somehow, if you could see past the bronzing powder that gave him a ridiculous Bahamas glow in the midst of an English winter, he was pretty foxy and brought genuine emotion to his corny role, and I actually forgot about his penchant for buxom babysitters and fashionable starlets. It's the perfect holiday confection to complement the heartburn brought on by too much mulled wine.

Fa La La La Uh-Oh

2006-12-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

The holiday season for me was officially ushered in this weekend with Sunday's breakfast: soy milk latté and Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark squares. Yumm.

Before that, I straggled a few days but got my package into the mail to Sweden for Blogging by Mail: Holiday Edition. I don't know when or from where my treasures will arrive, but I can't wait...

Back in The Big Bad City

2006-12-07T13:09:00.000-08:00

I had the most *enchanted* week in NYC at the end of November. But I still have to gather my thoughts and put them down! Here is a preview of the highlights... More to come.

A Brief Retreat to the Desert

2006-12-04T13:37:00.000-08:00

It had been too long since my last trip to the desert. When I saw Rickie Lee Jones was in the house all weekend at Pioneertown's famed Pappy and Harriet's, I knew I had to go. Even though I had slightly mis-budgeted my recent New York vacation and was coasting to my next paycheck. When I won free tickets to Sunday night's show, it was a done deal. (What's a little micro-loan for gas money between friends?) (Thank you, Christine!)

Pioneertown was built in 1946 to be the quintessential Western town in movies starring cowboys like Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. It has survived as a sleepy, hip town renowned for great music, a thriving art community, and terrible fires. Last July's Sawtooth fire left behind a charred landscape, but the community still thrives.

Though the Saturday night crowd was apparently almost literally packed to the rafters, Sunday brought out a full house of devoted (and some besotted!) Rickie Lee Jones fans. The diva started out low-key with several old-time hits at the piano. She was tucked away in a corner, soft lighting all around. Her voice was amazing -- she still nails every single nuance of her soulful, animated, quirky tunes. But the sad, old songs ("Last Chance Texaco," "On Saturday Afternoons in 1963," etc.) were kind of a downer...and I started worrying about my 2-hour drive home after a depressing set... Fortunately, her band of four young men eventually joined her, and she busted out a guitar and lots of musical tricks.

I'll skip over the spoken-word style spiritual numbers...not a fan, not a fan... Her new album, The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard, also features some seriously rocking music. My favorite song was "Tried to be a Man," which includes lyrics like, "You know I'm out of rehab, you know I'm back in a band..." Throughout the set, she nursed a small cocktail and kept her young guys in line with simple hand gestures: don't play so loud; stop playing; pick up the pace; louder! They kept their eyes trained on her, anxious to do right. The standing ovation was immediate, and we clapped the whole group back to the stage for an encore. Though Jones said she was keeping her coat on to emphasize the temporary nature of the encore.

So ended the weekend, which otherwise was overshadowed by the ailments brought on by the Santa Ana winds. When will they end? They're killin' me!

Meanwhile, back at home

2006-11-27T13:21:00.000-08:00

Vacation, vacation, fabulous vacation in New York City! More on that later.

The night before my departure, I was lying in bed when I heard what sounded like furniture being pushed down a hill. I mind my own business, so I went to sleep. Come morning, my neighbor was in the middle of the street in her pajamas, yelling. She eventually knocked on my door and invited me to take a look at her living room, which now housed a good portion of the hillside formerly behind her house. Fortunately, all were safe. She and her family had been packing in anticipation of a move; with this recent development, the move shifted into high gear.

Lucky for me, another house buffers the hillside behind me. Unlucky for them, the hillside crashed into their living room two years ago. But now there's a retaining wall. Which I imagine will have to be installed next door, too. Though we don't have the most attentive, conscientious landlords.

To make the perfect pizza

2006-11-15T10:04:00.000-08:00

1) Use scissors to cut tomatoes into the sauce.

2) Carefully place toppings according to the likes and dislikes of your guests, i.e.: olives are gross, so only on 3/4 of the pizza; cheese only on 1/4; no dead animals on 1/4; pine nuts all around -- everyone loves pine nuts.

3) Cook until crispy on a pizza stone covered with corn meal.

Yumm.

John Doe is For Lovers

2006-11-13T12:10:00.000-08:00

No dinner reservation, but I didn't let the possibility of a long line and no seat deter me. Friday night I headed out to see John Doe at Largo. So many young folks and people who didn't grow up in LA stare blankly when I talk about John Doe or X. But back in the day -- before KROQ started spewing generic agro music -- the soundtrack of LA summers included the bittersweet perennial "4th of July" and the hard-driving, "Los Angeles" (featuring the wailing lyrics: "She had to leave...Los Angeles! She had to get out, GET OUT! Get out, GET OUT!"). It was another era of "modern rock" that also included Mary's Danish, Jon Astely ("Jane's getting serious...got to do something 'bout Jane..."), The Cure, The Smiths, B-52s, and so many other greats.

John Doe's solo work is more on the mellow side, but he still rocks. He played songs from his latest album, covered -- but totally owned -- Joni Mithell's "Case of You," and included past solo work I'd never heard. I didn't know how "Highway 5" would sound without Neko Case, but his voice just transcends everything in that tune; there is no better showcase for his range, his passion, and the restlessness and wistful blues that characterize his music.

It was like Middle-Age Date Night at Largo, with couples scooching closer together throughout the night. By the time John Doe took the stage, many were actually entwined, sneaking a smooch whenever they could. Coming off a big X tour with Rollins and other big rockers & punks, the intimate venue and alt-rock/alt-country vibe seemed a sort-of-welcome, sort-of-gloomy scene change for him. Changing guitars before a song he joked, "Big show tonight, folks. Lotta' changes. I'm gonna' do a wardrobe change in about, oh, 3 hours -- when I go to fuckin' bed." Lots of charmed laughter followed. Still iconic. Still sexy. Still a charmer. Still an alt-rocker.

Laura photographed everybody in rock during the '80s and '90s, including X. He pretty much still looks like this, though his face sags a little with age, and his hair lies flat now.

Magic, Rock 'n Roll, Whipped Cream

2006-11-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

Franklin Avenue is a key artery of East-West transit in Los Angeles. You cross the lovely Shakespeare Bridge in Silverlake, travel through the heart of Los Feliz Village (stomping ground of the bad boys of Swingers), pass the Scientology Celebrity Center compound (where, rumor has it, stars like Tom Cruise and Kirstie Alley have their own secret entrances), get muddled in Hollywood Bowl traffic and parking frenzy...and then cruise by the world-famous Magic Castle. The exclusive club is nestled up on the hill, at the end of a winding driveway we uninvited masses may never set our tires upon.

Until recently, that is... I finally got a hook-up for the Magic Castle! Long story short: Julie had a religious epiphany a couple years ago and became a born-again Catholic. Among the kind, intelligent, fascinating people she met in her CCD program was Laroo, a burlesque star and magician. Laroo was engaged, and is now married, to Fitzgerald, a magician and comedy writer. (Used to be in Hollywood, AA and NA were the places to meet interesting people; apparently now it's CCD classes.) When these two Magic Castle members invited Julie up to the enchanted private club, she very generously extended the invitation to me.

The fun begins when you whisper a password to an owl, and faux bookcases slide open to reveal the secret interior -- and the first of several bars. (The Irish Coffees with whipped cream were divine, and Julie persuaded a bartender to create an Orange Creamsicle Martini, which took us all back to the olden days.) The dress code was communicated to us as Women: Dresses; but we quickly noted it was actually Women: Fancy-Slutty. Heels and hemlines were high, necklines were low, and there was a fantastic shimmer to fabrics and eye shadows. We lined up to see some fun magic acts, and enjoyed rubbing elbows with the member-magicians who stroll around looking mysterious and full-of-tricks.

But everything paled compared to our destination act: The Unholy Three.

The first few lines of the group's bio hint at the coming attraction:

1969-1977: U3, childhood friends, attend St. Gertrude's elementary in Pipestone, Minnesota. Perform first magic show together at a school assembly featuring “The Cut & Restored Norwegian.” After numerous discipline problems, the principal, Sister Edna, labels the trio "The Unholy Three."

Fitzgerald and his colleagues mystify, provoke, and generally entertain with an intelligent, uber-hip act, which -- of all things -- opens with The Pixies' "Cactus" rocking in the background. The Unholy Three = not your mama's magic show. It all makes sense when you understand the fine pedigree of these performers: Dave Lovering was the drummer for the kick-ass band The Pixies; Rob Zabrecky was the singer for the alt rock group Possum Dixon. (I immediately moved loudQUIETloud, the film about The Pixies's ill-fated reunion tour, up on my Netflix queue!)

So much fun. Love exclusive clubs. Love Irish Coffees. Love The Pixies. Love Unholy Three magic.

I nearly...

2006-11-06T11:37:00.000-08:00

walked all the way

into the fountain

at The Music Center.

New Good Things

2006-11-03T11:04:00.000-08:00

Jayde has set off for her year in Myanmar fka Burma, and she quite appropriately started a blog to share her adventures. I've got a standing invitation to visit her some time during the year, but an initial review of The Lonely Planet's guide made me a little skittish... The Health and Safety section gave me pause, and the main page announces: "The decision to travel to Myanmar should not be made lightly." Noted.

* * * * *

Finally saw Janet Klein and her Parlor Boys perform, and it was swell. The Steve Allen Theater offers a great stage and provides the band with a captive audience, but the music and performances are much more suited for a party where laughter and cocktails flow. Must catch their next gig at an Art Deco Society event or other cool L.A. happening. Favorite tunes from last night include: 1) a Depression-era ditty about a gal who hits rock bottom and sits on a rubbish bin in the alley; it features a phrase along the lines of, "Mister, I got blisters from sittin' on the rubbish bin." Also, "When Jenny Does Her Lowdown Dance," which features a choice line (something like): "Daddy is a nervous wreck, watching Uncle stretch his neck when Jenny does her lowdown dance." BONUS: We ran into Gina, who has been a mainstay in the audience every month since April (or August...?).

Speaking of the Art Deco Society of LA, I will unfortunately miss their next Cocktails in Historic Places get-together, but it sure sounds fun.

* * * * *

Not a secret, I am not a fan of musicals. Not even Moulin Rouge. Not Rent. The only musicals I have really liked are The Black Rider and the insane Dancer in the Dark. But I was offered tickets to the opening night performance of The Light in the Piazza at The Ahmanson Theatre, and of course I said yes. Pretending I live in a bustling, cosmopolitan urban paradise - yes! Surprise of surprises, I really enjoyed the show. The music is lovely and romantic, and the mother character provides much more depth than I had expected. (The actress, Christine Andreas, was sublime.) The LA Times review claims the 6-Tony Award-winning play only improved in its relocation and re-casting.

BONUS: The 1962 film starring Olivia de Havilland and George Hamilton is playing at the historic and fabulous Egyptian Theatre this Sunday. Although the first line of the plot summary on IMDB is a little comical: "A pony kicked her head and that's how she became "slow". The young American woman traveling in Italy with her mother is slender..." Hmmm.

* * * * *

Currently Reading...

2006-11-01T09:18:00.000-08:00

Ruth and I started a book group. Just the two of us. So far, we've read: The History of Love; The Ticking; and Fun Home. Our latest book was chosen by Ruth: Memorias Postumas de Bras Cubas aka The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas aka Epitaph of a Small Winner, by Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis. For some reason I thought he was some obscure Portuguese writer. Turns out, he's "widely regarded as the most important writer of Brazilian literature," and Susan Sontag wrote the intro to my edition. The library shelf was simply filled with his oeuvre. Oh. Silly brain.

I'm currently not reading, but holding a bookmark in Yevgeny Yevtushenko's Don't Die Before You're Dead, which I plucked randomly off the library shelf. The beginning at least is smart, funny, wildly human and totally engaging. He's another great find -- a renowned poet and "nonconformist" who was banned from traveling outside the Soviet Union breifly during the 60s.

Happy Hour: Black Market Commodity

2006-10-31T11:44:00.000-08:00

It was Halloween weekend, and it was happy hour, so I planned for pepper vodka martinis -- just the right spooky kick for the season. Except that suddenly pepper vodka is like some kind of black market commodity. When did that hapen? I spent the morning running into grocery stores and liquor stores, scrutinizing their vodka shelves. Zowie! What an explosion of obscure, trendy, insane brands and flavors. I knew the martini craze had reached the tipping point, but I didn't realize what it meant to the average vodka buyer. I found Van Gogh Dutch Chocolate vodka and Double Espresso vodkas, bottles of Chopin vodka the size of a tall child, Stoli (almost) everything, and even local brand Modern Spirits vodka -- including Chocolate Orange, Candied Ginger, Grapefruit Honey, and Pear Lavender flavors -- at two stores! I started mentally filling my freezer, feeling it absolutely necessary to stockpile all the sexy flavors. The $20 - $35 a bottle price tag killed that urge before I made it to the register.

Still, not a single pepper vodka to be had. Until I made it to Vendome in Toluca Lake. Halleluiah - Absolut Peppar! Also, they have a surprisingly extensive schedule of beer and wine tastings throughout the week. What a bust, I had missed all of them.

And so, happy hour was had, and now that I have been enlightened on the subject of mad vodka varieties, plans for tastings & martini experimentation (Julie is working on the Candy Corn Martini) are in the works...

Current...Passing Obsession: the bird and the bee

2006-10-30T12:02:00.000-08:00

inside CD cover - photo credit: autumn de wilde

The obsession is beginning to fade, due to the repeat button being hit too many times during the last 4 days...

Christine and I went to see them at Silverlake Lounge a couple weeks ago, and then I went again on Friday to buy the new CD. Only 4 little tracks: 3 songs & a scary re-mix by Peaches. Spun-sugar, must-have tracks include: "again and again" and "f*cking boyfriend."

the bird and the bee is Inara George and Greg Kurstin, and they are definitely a throw-back to another era. A very tall guy behind me on Friday mused loudly that the style seemed circa Lawrence Welk. I wanted him to hush-up, but it was actually a pretty astute observation -- what with the back-up singers and their cotton candy pop sound. Although I don't remember ever hearing the "F" word on the Lawrence Welk show. And I actually used to watch it every weekend, I'm just remembering. Yikes. Snap-shot from the past: me sitting with the hair-dryer hat on after a Sunday evening shower, watching the Lawrence Welk Show for my favorite singers. OMG.

Halloween Candy Swap

2006-10-26T12:38:00.000-07:00

Some people are addicted to MySpace. Others live and breathe Ebay. Still others kill piles of brain cells each day with tawdry Gawker and Defamer habits. And then there are those other Internet passions which are simply unfit for print in this blog. But I think my very most favorite discovery in the Virtual World is candyswappers. It's an international phenomenon whereby people around the world send packages of candy to other candy-lovers. Sometimes they also share informative posts about candy discoveries, regional favorites, and unusual but exciting candy combinations. It is the kind of thing you dreamed about when you were a child. (Didn't you?!)

This month is Halloween Candy Swap, and I totally hit the jackpot! My swap buddy, Clara, spoiled me rotten with the most enormous package. (She surely went over budget!) I ate most of the caramel Hershey Kisses before I could even get my loot laid out for a photo opp. It's a fab mix of Halloween novelties and quality chocolate selections. I considered bringing my basket in to work to share, but my greedy only-child-til-I-was-16 hoarding instinct kicked in and nixed the impulse. It's mine all mine all mine and only mine. For now at least.

The package of treats could not have arrived at a better time. I got home late last night from the L.A. Mission, where we served dinner and CAKE, GLORIOUS CAKE to the residents. Some bakery donated stacks of lovely, fancy cakes...but not a bite for us, the volunteers. (How wrong is it to covet the dessert of a homeless person undergoing rehab and career training?) Same old mail (grocery circulars, bills, Have you seen me?, etc.), and I grumbled that nobody ever sends real mail -- they don't even respond to real letters you send them. Up the dark stairway I went, until I walked right into the most enormous box. Hello, Priority Mail! I had the scissors in hand to tear open the package before I had even unloaded my cloak and clutter. Thank you, Clara! You rock.

Though it may seem strange to people who don't adore candies, candyswappers is actually an interesting way to meet folks around the world. One of my previous swap partners lives in Medina, NY; I told her a friend of mine lived nearby, and it turned out she knew my friend, had worked with her mother for years in the local school system, and lived just around the corner and across the river from her. Go figure.

I heart .

Karaoke Initiation: Ladies Night In

2006-10-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

One night last week I found myself in an unfamiliar kitchen with a group of women, dancing and singing along with another gal who was belting out "Dancing in the Streets" on a portable karaoke system. The freestyle dancing evolved into the Hustle just before the song ended; but I don't know the Hustle, so I just faked it. I had a strange déjà vu feeling, as if I had crawled into a scene from a chick-flick, where friends bond over a catchy tune and boisterous moves. Like the gals singing "Respect" in Mystic Pizza, or Susan Sarandon and the kids singing whatever song it was in the stepmom/cancer-themed movie with Julia Roberts and Ed Harris. Except there was a genuine sense of joy and celebration in this Ladies Night -- and I'd never met any of these women before.

It was an unusual occasion, my latest adventure in volunteering. The project description said we would be doing manicures and karaoke with the residents of an emergency women's shelter. Though I've never done karaoke and am crap at polishing nails, I hoped a friendly disposition and a genuine will to help would get me through. I also hoped I wouldn't get too freaked out by what I encountered. I've never visited an emergency women's shelter before.

What an odd, charmed evening I stumbled into. Though the residents cycle through every month or two, the same volunteers show up once a month to throw a lively, clean-livin' Ladies Night In. The project leader has been at it for six years, and clearly the karaoke-singing volunteers have honed their tunes over a long period of time. With the goodwill of Girl Scouts and the speed of EMS techs, these women whipped up a night of good cheer and good times. With the exception of one poor young woman who stared blankly into space, even during her manicure, the residents all seemed at ease and ready to sing and dance.

I was mad-careful with the emery board and the polish, but I'm afraid I still gave mediocre manicures. Nobody complained -- though they did point out the crooked shapes and streaky patches, which I took another crack at. I clapped and cheered and sang along as women of all ages and shapes and ethnicities took the mic. After a while it occurred to me that there was really no good reason not to get up and sing. If there was ever a place to take a risk and try something new, this was it.

I chose Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher Man," and it started out fine. But then the musical breaks confused me, and the words starting flying across the screen without me...and I turned to the gals in the kitchen and yelped. But I got it back together and did my best. And now I've done karaoke. All the ladies said I did a really good job for my first time.

Free Theater in NoHo!

2006-10-20T10:42:00.000-07:00

Last night was LA's designated Free Night of Theater. Productions around Southern California offered up free tickets to lure curious/reluctant/non-traditional theater-goers into the audience. The bigger shows were sold out, so I ventured to North Hollywood for the first time for Theatre Tribe's production of Arthur Melville Pearson's Cairo.

Unlikely as it may seem, North Hollywood has a thriving theater and art community, celebrated as the NoHo Arts District. This was my first visit, and I didn't know what to expect. I've seen fringe theater in many cities; stand-out oddities include: Make Millions With Your Easybake Oven in San Francisco; a two-man show featuring an on-screen, run-away monster and faux Cary Grant accents in Dublin; a spooky interpretation of George Bataille's Story of the Eye (first as a one-woman show in SF, then with a full cast in NY, which was sooo much creepier!); a comedic crime-heist-gone-wrong in Madrid (I understood about 1/10 of it); and a very unsettling evening with Tom Noonan in NYC's East Village for What the Hell's Your Problem? An Evening With "Dr. Bob" Nathelson. I am pleased to report that I was surprised and relieved by my first NoHo theater experience.

The blurb promised:

James Jennsen has informed his family that at midnight tonight, his deceased mother and grandparents are returning to pick him up in a blue '51 Chevy. Alarmed, his sisters and father gather for dinner at the soon-to-be-subdivided family farm in Cairo, Illinois. What begins as a humorous kitchen-sink drama unfolds into a poetic exploration of the spiritual and physical consequences of a family's disconnection, both from each other and the land they love.

I immediately loved the set and the use of light to bring us from night to morning for the fateful day on the Jannsen family farm. The first half felt like a Sam Shepard play hijacked by sparring sisters. The performances were a little uneven, but the dialogue was very human and fresh. The show clocks in at 2 hours, and I would snip, snip, snip entire pages from the second half. Not only did it drag, but the constant YELLING and THRASHING, book-ended by excessive poetry recitations, really fueled the Flight Instinct in me. The characters were strained anticipating midnight, but I found myself staring down the on-stage clock, willing it to strike the magic hour. Make it happen! Whatever it is, make it happen now, so I can get out of this loud mess! But when it did happen, the final moment -- after all the clamor -- was well orchestrated, understated and poignant.

Overall, I think Theatre Tribe is a company to watch, and the playwright is definitely one to watch.

My favorite card for the season (so far)

2006-10-20T10:25:00.000-07:00

Found Image Press

Purchased from a store in North Hollywood that plays really loud death metal. You have to shop fast & get out!

Fashion for Change & NELA Night

2006-10-17T16:43:00.000-07:00

Saturday night was spent fêting Clothing of the American Mind's new flagship store in Echo Park -- and getting a crash course on the issues they are currently advocating for (take back congress, impeach Bush...). This company has hilarious clothes and donates part of all profits to a number of politically progressive organizations and causes. I previously bought faux team jerseys for the Axis of Evil-Doers and the Unilateral Cowboys. Recently, I purchased some Yield for Peace & Vote for Change baby tees for friends.

We started the evening roaming around Highland Park enjoying the monthly open gallery event, NELA night. Since LA Church of Craft leader, Reverend Brenda, offered a rave review and made me promise I would go, my #1 destination was MorYork. It's official: I am the latest evangelist for this place! You must go as soon as you can -- which is second Saturdays for NELA night, or by appointment. It is filled to the rafters with wild creations made over the years by artist/owner Clare Graham, and display cases are filled with fine curiosities from all over the world. The strangest thing -- aside from every item on display -- is that the space does not feel cluttered, but actually warm and homey; chairs and couches invite you to take a load off and catch up with friends. What you will see when you go (which you must!): giant hanging sculptures made out of buttons; furniture made out of Dominos; room dividers and sky scrapers made of Scrabble letters; rugs made from tin cans; and so, so, so much more.

Also in Highland Park, David Patton Los Angeles gallery had a new show of photo collages by Keith Holbrook that were simple, but fantastic -- funny, witty, and totally inspiring. Ave. 50 Studio invited artists to produce work commemorating, celebrating or mourning young people who have died due to preventable disease, gang violence, abuse, or war. The "Miccailhuitontli — Spirit of the Children" exhibit had some beautiful and thought-provoking works, and the gallery's location by the train tracks offers great atmosphere. I want to return for a second viewing of both exhibits, this time stopping for a drink in a swanky booth at The Wild Hare bar on York. (At least when I pressed my face against the glass outside the booths looked swanky... )

We also stopped by the neighborhood crafts den, Sugarbutterbex, where a workshop was happening. Becca invited us to join their Day of the Dead altar-making workshop next Tuesday, and I just might go. Her own altar to her mother is a powerful, intimate structure made up of New Yorker magazines, an ashtray with a new cigarette, travel photos, marzipan candies, a newspaper article about her as an undergrad on an archaeological dig, a bottle of gin, and many more personal items. They also have a tree to which you can add a leaf with the name of a beloved pet who has gone on to the next life.

Bookmark your Thomas Guide. Highland Park is on the map big-time now.

California Natives

2006-10-17T09:19:00.000-07:00

I volunteered again at the Theodore Payne Foundation's annual plant sale, because my cousin, once removed (she's precise about kinship lines), is the nursery manager there. I straightened the plants (which customers kept moving around and messing up!) and wrote up sales tickets. It's interesting to see the cross-section of people who get excited about native plants and come to fill in a gap in their yard or begin a full-blown native plant landscaping project. It's a pretty diverse crowd, but they all seem low-key and cool. Probably the same folks who bring canvas bags to shop at Trader Joe's and patronize their local farmer's market. I meant to make and bring a sign I saw on the Flickr Scavenger Hunt group - even though it wasn't really necessary, and definitely isn't very nice: Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy. But I forgot.

Last year I was dirt poor, so I walked away empty-handed. This year I bought the lovely and bizarre plant above, as well as a white sage (Salvia apiana). I have so far managed to kill every plant I've brought into my new place (the lovely Jasmine that was a house-warming gift; the "Wandering Jew" aka spiderwort Kristin bequeathed to me; the beautiful purple-blossomed plant I bought at Home Depot; the huge pot of birthday flowers from Mom...), but since these are natives, maybe they will be tougher. Maybe they won't be so desperately thirsty during the long summer and so weak in the winter. Maybe I can actually start cultivating a sophisticated container garden after all. Maybe.

WWJK?

2006-10-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

Ruth stumbled upon a treasure and sent it to me. (Thank you, Ruthie!) It was fantastic to get real mail on Friday, and the little tee is so darling I almost kept it...but I decided to be generous and donate it to my local yarn store to be offered as a raffle prize or other present to a deserving customer. After all, I'm still only working on my second scarf ever. I think there is a Jane Austen-loving super-star knitter out there who will wear it proudly until poor Jane is faded and the threads come apart. Though Ruth and I may end up buying tees for ourselves. I mean -- how can you resist?

Scarf #2 is on track again after a near-fatal mis-step. I took a diagonal-stripe scarf workshop, then promptly went home and screwed it up. I tried to ignore my mistake and just knit the darn thing up; but it was so glaringly, terribly wrong, I finally had to be a grown up and rip the whole thing out.

I started again from scratch, working from the chicken-scratch notes in my Wonder Woman journal. Wonder Woman totally came through for me, and fabulous diagonal stripes are appearing off my needles now!

Indie Rock, Pie & Coffee

2006-10-11T12:41:00.000-07:00

The 8th annual Eagle Rock Music Festival went up against heavy-weight Los Angeles music fests Detour, Grand Avenue, and TarFest last weekend, but managed to bring out the neighborhood for a night of Eastside indie rock -- in all its innovative and unusual glory. Eagle Rock is the place where grown-up indie hipsters come to nest. The streets were literally filled with strollers and toddlers and mohawked youth and skater teens with their über-hip rocker parents. Coffee cups replaced beer and margarita cups (I only saw one beer bottle in a paper bag), and the mood was up-beat, but sober. While Colorado Wine Company was packed to the gills with festive imbibers, the Caldwell Bank lobby was also hopping with a "Free Pie & Coffee" social.

Though there were bigger names, the most amusing crowd-pleaser was The Mormons. Without a stage, without a spot on the official line-up, they took to the streets clad in crisp white shirts, black ties, black pants, and bicycle helmets! The uniforms included handy guitar amps attached to each player, with one player's larger amp settled into a baby stroller parked directly behind him. The singer hurled lyrics out through a bullhorn. They were a fresh, totally nuts sight to behold, and the growing audience shared disbelieving smiles. The best moment came when a gang of awe-struck, hyped-up six-year-olds literally started running circles around the band while they played -- one of them proudly sporting his own bicycle helmet. You can't buy that kind of enthusiastic buzz.

Tame your OCD for good Karma

2006-10-10T11:25:00.000-07:00

I slammed into my own prickliness & mild OCD a little while ago when I volunteered at a food bank for the first time. In my most recent LA Works-assisted good deed, I was part of an assembly line putting together "kits" of groceries for low-income senior citizens around Los Angeles. First extract a plastic bin from the towering mass; put boxes of cereal into bags and place in bin; put bin onto conveyer belt to be filled with peanut butter, apple juice, rice, canned corn, etc., etc. Only I was out-numbered by high school students and college freshmen, and the workings of the assembly line were not thoroughly explained. At the point where the bins should have gone onto the conveyer belt, they stalled out. The youngin's were setting them up in a long line, adding fruit juice like they were filling gift bags for a sorority function. I didn't want to make trouble, so I waited for a supervisor to intervene, all the while stifling my shrieks, The bins need to keep moving! One at a time, then you move it forward! That's why they call it an assembly line!

In my cranky disenchantment, I started to think that maybe schools didn't teach about the introduction of assembly-line production in factories anymore. Maybe they didn't talk about division of labor and all that old stuff in social studies or history class. Maybe these kids really had no idea what we were doing. In any case, I was so frustrated with my own frustration, I decided that maybe I shouldn't volunteer there anymore. Maybe food sorting at the food bank was outside my capabilities.

But I'm not one to give up. I tried again last weekend, and not only did we have a smooth production that garnered praise from all the supervisors (1,070 kits produced!), but fortune smiled on me in the most unusual way. I came out from the 3-hour shift of semi-hard labor and found I had a totally, completely, 100% flat tire! I called AAA, but before they could even arrive, I was surrounded by helpers. Two food bank employees offered me magic cans which filled my tire with air and temporarily sealed the hole-which-was-actually-more-of-an-enormous-gouge. OMG - why didn't I know about these magic cans? Unbelievable! I was able to drive to a tire repair place - which was directly around the corner - where they fixed the gouge in under 5 minutes, for $7. On top of all that, for Helen's birthday she had asked friends to volunteer with her at the food bank that morning, and she insisted on staying with me until my tire ordeal was over. Thank you, Helen!

Never before has car trouble been so pleasantly and easily resolved. I think the experience finally erases the bad juju I've been carrying around since that time long ago when I ran out of gas on the Grapevine in the middle of the night and had to walk down the mountain in the dark to a gas station, terrified by the thought of snakes along the hillside and disturbed by the man who pulled over to offer assistance -- straight out of Central Casting for the role of the hitch-hiker murderer in a 1970s made-for-TV movie. (He even had the 70's van with old curtains and a sad dog.) I think the dark cloud that ordeal brought me has finally lifted!

A Sentimental Evening of Coughing & Kvetching

2006-10-09T09:42:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't go to the Walt Disney Concert Hall. But my camera battery died before I made it to the Mark Taper Forum, where I had planned to people-watch and people-photograph before Lynn Redgrave's Nightingale. With its fountain, outdoor dining, and trees filled with little white lights The Music Center plaza is a tiny oasis of cosmopolitan urban living in Los Angeles. A little mirage that suggests you could charge out into the streets and walk for miles through a dynamic, bustling city. Though of course you know better.

Nightingale is written and performed by Redgrave, and we were lucky to receive complimentary tickets to Friday's show. It is a charming, sentimental journey through the life of a woman who was surprised and somewhat embittered by the limitations of her life. (One line that received a great laugh: "Marriage seemed like such an exciting idea. Until it happened.") I really liked that she began the piece by explaining her inspiration for writing it: surprised to find herself single again recently, she returned home to the comfort of family and found herself wandering one sleepless night into the local cemetery to find her grandmother's grave; when she discovered all the headstones had been erased by acid rain, she began to wonder if and how each of us will be remembered when we leave this world. The character she proceeds to inhabit is loosely based on her maternal grandmother, a cold, distant woman; she imagines a life of thwarted passions, small grudges, and timid hopes. Lynn Redgrave is a compelling presence, and she performed every scene with grace -- and in sensible shoes. Though the audience seemed a bit fidgety, the standing ovation at the conclusion was immediate and impassioned.

It must be said that Ms. Redgrave performed against considerable odds that evening. There was apparently extensive outreach conducted to senior citizens, and a great number of folks wore headphones to enhance the sound. From the moment she spoke her first words, there was an ongoing series of murmurs and shrieks along the lines of, "It's too loud!" etc., etc. throughout the evening -- driving me completely bonkers and startling the poor performer off her stride at least once (or so it seemed...). Add to that the coughing fit that spread like wildfire across the theater, and my dominant reaction to the whole event was an overwhelming urge to roll up my program and walk through the aisles, paddling the hell out of all the noisy bees.

MSH 9/06: Phew.

2006-09-29T16:56:00.000-07:00

After lurking for months (with no digital camera) I finally participated in the Monthly Scavenger Hunt on Flickr, skating in just under the wire. So many desperate, pathetic entries just to get done - but then a few that I really liked, too. I want to start earlier next month. But I also want a big break from scanning my environment for items I can check off the wrinkled, faded print-out that accompanies me everywhere now. (This month's list is below.)

I didn't bring my camera to DJ Shadow's show at Avalon on Monday, but it was amazing musically & visually. He opened and closed with pieces from Endtroducing..., and I still can't believe that was his debut album. There were several special guest singers, including a tripped-up Thom Yorke type (Chris James) who seemed to have been flown in from another dimension, his sound was such a break with the rest of the night's music. Clearly, Shadow's range is limitless.

I am a Johnny-come-lately fan of DJ Shadow after discovering him in Marc Singer's 2000 documentary, Dark Days. Singer profiled the NYC squatters living underground next to the Amtrak tracks near Penn Station. He followed their day-to-day activities, got to know their histories, and charted the fall-out when they were eventually evicted from the underground fortress. The film itself is wildly compelling and surprising, but the interviews included on the DVD recount the unbelievable struggle to get the film made and to secure the soundtrack. Singer himself became homeless, imposters thwarted the filmmakers' pursuit of DJ Shadow, and... Oh, I won't give it all away. In any case, Endtroducing... provides a stunning musical background to the extraordinary tale.

* * * * * * *

September 2006 Monthly Scavenger Hunt

1. Arch (or arched)
2. A view from the bridge
3. Baby feet (or steps)
4. Back to School
5. Chit-chat
6. Fire
7. The grass is always greener on the other side
8. LOLOLOLOLOL
9. Lycra should only be for the very thin!!
10. Muddy
11. Mischievous
12. Person being a jerk / somebody very angry
13. Poetry in Motion
14. Pendulum
15. Quilt
16. Stained glass window
17. Things with `old` in them – ie. C`old, F`older, M`old
18. Teeth
19. View from above
20. Yellow

A Party for "Bubbles"

2006-09-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

"Bubbles" has launched -- and what a sight it is! The opening coincided with the Silverlake/Los Feliz/Echo Park Art Crawl last Friday, and there was such a buzz in the air. We drank pink Champagne and lent out bikes so folks could cruise the other galleries on the map.

It was sort of magical stumbling around (and between and under) the bubbles, which inflated and deflated as they interacted with people and each other.

The DJ was great, and everything sounded better moving through the silky bubbles.

At night the installation was even more beautiful...

and the crowds just kept gathering -- even after we all got busted (gently) by the cops for boozing out on the sidewalk in front of the M & A space.

Wine Blogging Wednesday #25: Champagne

2006-09-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

Diebolt-Vallois Brut - $34

Score: 3 out of 5 Cookies

It's officially Wine Blogging Wednesday #25. Technically for me, it's #1, since this is my first time participating. I can't claim to be a food blogger, and I'm no wine connoisseur -- but what a fantastic way to discover new spirits, learn smart new facts, and "meet" new strangers in the blogosphere. Though I'm still fussing with the buttons and battling flash glare, I am grateful to finally own a digital camera -- meaning: no repeat of the comical disaster that was my Sugar High Friday effort. This month's event is hosted by SF-based food blog Becks & Posh, and the hostess, Sam, has chosen Champagne as the theme. So let's begin!

Sigh. How I love Champagne. Why I love weddings: 1) cake 2) Champagne. I have lots of Champagne memories, including the time I was hired to pour Champagne at a wedding, even though I had no catering (or professional pouring) experience whatsoever. I had no idea how fast it would bubble up in the glass...and directly down a person's well-dressed arm. I still turn a little red in the face and giggle when I think of the very startled looks on so many faces. (It took me several tries to get it right.) I also have a Champagne hero: Brett. Years ago in New York, I tagged along with Jane to a gathering to watch the premiere of a new epispode of Ab Fab. This crowd bowed down to Patsy and Edina, so the premiere was appropriately fêted with Champagne, Brie, and other fancy noshes. Puzzled, I asked Brett how he could eat cheese when he was lactose-intolerant. He responded that he was able to eat Brie, as long as he drank Champagne with it. What a lovely exception. Here's a shout-out to Brett in Brooklyn!

My assignment was to select a true Champagne in my price range, try it, possibly pair it with food if I felt ambitious, and write up my experience/review. Since my local wine store was closed, I headed to Silverlake Wine and stumbled right into their Blue Monday tasting. (I was sorry to be alone and on a mission, because the crowd was lively!) Truth be told, none of the options was actually in my price range; but fortunately, I've never been a slave to financial reason. Without any background information, I selected this lovely red label (ed. note: flash glare mine), the Diebolt-Vallois Brut Champagne. It's non-vintage, blended from grapes from several different years, and a "grower" Champagne. I know now that the proprietor, Jacques Diebolt, is known as a passionate producer with impeccable standards and taste -- and as something of a character. One wine export company has this to say about him:

The man is not easy, the way he treats himself (and anyone for that matter) is minded by an objective of passionate perfections. His champagnes are pure, stark, essential as well as complex, multilayered etc…!

I don't know how it's possible to procrastinate when Champagne is involved, but I found myself scrambling last night, after three hours in the darkroom, setting the scene for The Great Tasting. Too late for a real meal, so I decided to test my Champagne's compatibility with simple snacks: cheese & red onion crackers; almonds; and ginger cookies. When I finally opened the bottle, the cork flew off with the fiercest velocity after the most gentle touch; it was ready to be poured!

Initial thoughts: Yummm. Yummm. Yummm. My free-floating anxiety whispered in my ear that I would have nothing more articulate to write, and I would surely become the blight of Wine Blogging Wednesdays. But that first taste was so good -- my sips turned into gulps, it went down so smoothly. Memories of cheap Cava and Prosecco, substitutions for the real thing, came guiltily to mind. When I started pairing it with my miscellaneous munchies, though, the experience shifted. The ginger from the cookies meshed well enough with the taste of the Champagne, but I experienced a bizarre scientific phenomenon: the extreme bubbles from the Champagne vacuumed all the tiny cookie crumbs into my windpipe, making it a sort of choking-snack. Overall, over the course of the first glass the taste became much more bitter and less pleasant. My after-the-fact research this morning led me to an article which offered a qualified recommendation: "...bursts with melon and lemon, though may be too sharp for some." And it really was a sharpness that set in after the initial honeymoon.

Mmmmm... Cookies and Champagne: the grown-up snack

For now, I'm awarding my selection 3 out of 5 Cookies; but I think a fair second tasting would pair this strong Champagne with heavy, complex cheeses -- something that could support the intensity and absorb some of the bubbles! My haphazard pairings may have sabotaged it. The only proper thing for me to do is visit the Cheese Store of Silverlake this evening and load up on wild cheeses, then take another crack at the unfinished bottle in the fridge.

Watch out for the young ones!

2006-09-13T10:53:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning was spent reading to kids again...only this time to kindergarteners, rather than 4th graders. Oh, those little ones are so deceptively small and sweet-looking. But I should have had an inkling of what was in store when I saw the group next to us line up perfectly straight beside their readers without even being instructed -- just instinctively, from successful institutional indoctrination. Not our little ones; they were gathered here and there, wiggling and smiling mischievously.

Our book this month was about a pigeon who wanted to drive a bus while the bus driver was away. The entire book is the little pigeon begging, "Please let me drive the bus!" "I'll be your best friend!" etc. Since the kids are all English-language learners, getting through phrases like, "My cousin Herb drives a bus almost every day!" was a challenge for them. Coloring pigeons (and the desk) and yelling, "Paloma loco!" over and over was not a challenge. Half-way through the period, running around the classroom and rooting through the regular teacher's stash of toys and stuffed animals was also not a challenge. Chaos ensued, and I thought my partner and I were lost. It's morning, it's Saturday, and it's hard to think fast on your feet. Think fast enough for kindergarteners, I mean.

But a lightbulb finally went on in my dim mind, and I abandoned all hopes of working together as a group and began addressing them individually. You there, with the cow puppet on your hand! What's the name of that animal? In English? It's a cow! Now have the cow ask everyone if he can please drive the bus. Everyone, the cow has a question for us! And what do we all say to the cow? Hey! Hey! The cow has a question for you! What do we all say? No, you can't drive the bus!!!!! And so on, and so on. That room teacher had an amazing supply of animal hand puppets, including: crocodile, monkey, pig, bear, guerilla, turtle, and soooo many more. Some might find it tiresome to repeat the same question and answer over and over until the clock finally strikes FREEDOM FROM KINDERGARTENERS, but managed chaos is a very good thing. And when you're reading to English-language learners, the most important goal is to engage with them in English and get at some level of comprehension of the text. I feel relatively certain that our kids learned: 1) the word "pigeon" 2) that only bus drivers should drive buses.

Sarah's Holiday Cheer

2006-09-08T09:14:00.000-07:00

Sarah Higdon's Snow Bunnies

Good news! Miss Sarah's illustration was selected for the Art Institute of Chicago's official 2006 holiday card! Her dark decapitation theme has been finessed to be warm and fuzzy in the museum shop description, but they can't completely erase her sensibility. If you're on my holiday card list, expect to be cheered with one of these this year.

Big kudos to Sarah. She moved to Chicago sight unseen last year to set up shop at the Art Institute, and she's already making waves. I think I first met her in Berkeley when she and her sister, Hilary, played Magic Mirror in the co-op backyard. And then in SF, when she was in the midst of her "Depressing Diner" series of paintings. And again in Austin, when she was illustrating high-society insects and tired commuter dogs. It's official now: she is unleashing her menagerie into the mainstream.

Not welding...yet.

2006-09-07T16:25:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I got a bee in my bonnet and was desperate to learn to weld. I researched community college classes and scoured the Internet for resources, but ended up SOL. Maybe I'll eventually try metal sculpting; I don't know -- it was part of my new artisanal tip & general inspiration to start making stuff. As much stuff as possible. As many different kinds of stuff as possible.

Well, happy days are here now that Materials & Applications is in production on their new installation, "Bubbles." I didn't get to weld this time around, but I got to do lots of other craftsman things. I threaded fishing line through the plastic pods my first day and again last weekend. And I painted the tower, first on the ground, and then up on the slightly-scary scaffolding which shook like mad whenever another painter shifted around. I kept telling myself quietly, "It's not going to fall over. You are not going to die..."

And so "Bubbles" comes to life on a plot of land in Silverlake, CA. You can follow the progress of the installation here on the blog the project designers maintain. And definitely show up for the launch party Friday, September 15th. My next task: land an apprenticeship with one of the rock star welders. Just let me at those gloves, that mask, and the torch!

High-Brow Institutions Woo the Kids

2006-09-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

Another reason to love summer: venerable museums woo the short-attention span party crowds with deejays, live music, cocktails and late-night hours. Art-talk whispers and Euro glasses are replaced by beats that vibrate off the towering, precious architecture and a total party atmosphere. If you braved the 405 on a Friday, there was no better place to watch the sun set than the fancy museum up on the hill. Last Friday night at the Getty: 20 minutes before closing, and hip kids are still streaming out of the tram, running up the stairs towards the music.

And the last Saturday night party at MOCA featured DJ Z-Trip. At first, I was underwhelmed with his set, but he wowed me with the Jane's Addiction and Led Zeppelin mixes, and from there it was awesome. His set-up killed the power twice, but the crowd yelled, "It don't matter, Z-Trip! Keep spinning!" Such a blast, even if he didn't play my favorite pop re-mix. The KCRW deejays took over after Z-Trip, and they played an incredible re-mix of Zero 7's You're My Flame, stretching it out to I swear 15 minutes!

The party's almost over now, with the school/work mentality that sets in with fall. Suddenly, it seems like one should be reviewing finances, checking on the status of goals, and generally standing up straight and upping productivity levels. As long as it's still 1,000 degrees here in So Cal, though, I believe we can put it off a little longer.

In a hair-net, praying

2006-08-25T16:02:00.000-07:00

Adventures in volunteering continue, thanks to the fabulous L.A. Works. This time, I helped set up and serve dinner for the homeless at a mission downtown. First time all-around for me. Garbed in a plastic apron, plastic gloves, and a hair-net I set out water glasses and paper napkins, then heaped spoonfuls of Parmesan cheese onto spaghetti mounds and added two packets of French dressing to each tray. It was a true cafeteria assembly-line, and we had to really hustle to serve 240+ people.

Residents of the mission participate in an 18-month program that includes drug/alcohol rehab and job training. Also - lots of Christian religious education. (I heard an excerpt of a motivational lecture before dinner that decried "ignorance, alcoholism, homosexuality, lesbianism, sexual orientation, drug addiction," etc. -- my only yikes moment of the evening.) I talked to a resident who used to be a baker for Wonder Bread (he made Twinkies!) and Famous Amos Cookies; he thinks the program is a miracle with all the security and opportunities it provides. It's a slice of life I haven't seen up-close before - definitely outside my experience and comfort zone. I signed up again for next month.

And so that is how, on a Wednesday night in downtown Los Angeles, I found myself in a circle, holding hands with the resident kitchen staff and other volunteers, in a hair-net, praying before dinner service.

* * * * *
In other news, I finally ordered a digital camera! So my photo/adventure blogging should begin in earnest very soon. As soon as I can figure out how to use it. And how to get the pictures from the camera to the computer. And all of that.

Beer & Bingo Weekend

2006-08-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

You can almost forget that the world appears to be going to hell in a hand-bag at a county fair. With pork chops on-a-stick, All-Alaskan racing pigs, hypnotists, tap dancing duels, beer, and bingo, it is a microcosm that defies intrusion. No luck at Bingo this time around, but the beer was cold, and the fudge -- once you forked over $7 -- was divine.

As a city-dweller, I usually feel I'm entering another dimension when I make it over the hills to Ventura County or (last year) Bishop and find myself in the agricultural, ranching communities that sustain so much of the state. At the fair, farm animals are judged, adults demonstrate impressive (sometimes upsetting!) riding and roping skills, and kids proudly show off their star goats and pigs. When your perspective is narrowly urban, it's like being invited into a bygone era; then you understand it is still thriving and being passed down to the little ones running around you in their tiny cowboy boots and hats.

Back in the city, the weekend brought fantastic new curiosities. After years of good intentions dead-ended, I recently scoured the LA Works website and signed up for a slew of volunteer activities. Saturday's Reading to Kids program was a blast! Over 800 kids participated at four schools, with over 200 volunteers combined. Hoover Elementary is about 98% English-language-learners, so our trainer emphasized really engaging and interacting with the kids in English, rather than simply cranking through the book. I read to fourth-graders, and our chapter book was so long we unfortunately skipped the related craft project. Personally, I thought the book was kind of a snoozer, but when I asked who liked it, all hands shot up. I could not believe how well-behaved they all were and how happy they were to choose a free book at the end of the session. Seeing 180+ kids buzzing with excitement in a school cafeteria on a Saturday morning was pretty unreal - and I felt so lucky to be part of it. One girl confided to me that it was her first time at the Reading Club, and she loved it and would definitely come back next month. Me too!

The day ended with a blissful break from reality via Un-Cabaret at the M-Bar. Julia Sweeney, Michael Patrick King, and others created a bubble of absurdity and tear-inducing humor that completely swept the audience away. Terrorist plots were deconstructed, the praises of hair gel were sung, and new iterations of the Irish-Catholic alcoholic parent were developed. A raucous time, detached from actual real time, was had by all.

Summer of Hobbies (Continuing Career Hiaitus)

2006-08-11T09:58:00.000-07:00

Well, if you can't make it a Summer of Love straight out of Grease -- it may as well be a Summer of Hobbies. Hurray for new skills, activities, and adventures!

Above is the creation I labored over for hours at the arty/party side-bar of the MOCA After Dark: Night Vision hoo-ha. I was quite pleased with my creation, thinking it very clever of me to craft-up the inside of the box, rather than the outside. (No one else seems to share my enthusiasm. Hmmph.) What a blast this series is, even if I find the Rauschenberg Combines surprisingly uninspiring. Arts & Crafts + Awesome DJs + Live Music + Late Night Museum Viewing + Cosmopolitans in Plastic Martini Glasses = What the hell's not to like? If it weren't for cemetery screenings, Un-Cabaret, and other distractions, I would move in every Saturday 'til 2 AM. Not to be missed: the last night of the series, Saturday September 2nd, featuring DJ Z-Trip. Earlier this summer, I was obsessed with his mix of Fade Into You, which you can hear via an MP3 link here on So Much Silence. When they remake Sixteen Candles or Some Kind of Wonderful, this song will totally be on the soundtrack!

In other hobby news: Against all predictions and my own doubts, I finished knitting my first scarf! (The Thing That Lives Under the Couch does not count, as that first knitting attempt can hardly be called a scarf...) See below and be impressed! For some reason, it perfectly matches my couch...?

But that's not all. In other crafting news, I learned to découpauge this week! Molly and I checked out the new arts & crafts venue Sugarbutterbex in up-and-coming Highland Park. I'm mad for glue, just can't use enough of it...hence, the wrinkly découpauged flowers that Martha Stewart would frown upon severely. But I think this first creation is just beautiful! Other things you can make there: trucker hats, tote bags out of old t-shirts, vintage drop necklaces, elastic skirts - and so much more.

Stay tuned for more news of unexpected Summer of Hobbies creations during the continuing career hiaitus.

California Pays Penance

2006-07-25T17:35:00.000-07:00

It's 1,000 degrees here. We're supposed to lower the air conditioner temperature and turn off appliances, but we are being broiled. My little tree-house home is really steaming. Are we being punished for the industry that generates monolithic tentpoles and then distributes pink slips to cut costs? Or is it the bizarre diet trends we impose on the rest of the world? Maybe the fact that an action/sci-fi/adventure hero runs our government? Whatever our collective sins, it's payback time.

Escaping to Comic-Con last weekend, I thought I would find relief in sea-breezy San Diego. Wrong! The heat wave there made hanging out with 100,000 other geeks in an air-conditioned convention center seem like Heaven. Current favorite personal health/sanity damage control solution: long, cold baths. It's amazing how much you can multi-task. The TV & DVD player can be wheeled in, and books can easily be read if you take care. (Speaking of summer reading -- not necessarily in the bath -- so far I've loved The History of Love and the graphic novel Fun Home, was provoked to thought by Memento Mori and the graphic book The Ticking, was not so keen on Come Closer or Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, and am currently disturbed but impressed by the Balkans war-time graphic novel The Fixer.)

It's a beautiful state, but we're really paying for something.

Brave New Tools

2006-07-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Christine has joined the Pampered Chef movement currently blazing through suburbia, replacing the Tupperware and key parties of yesteryear. She makes delightful treats using clever, highly specialized tools -- like this newfangled apple guillotine. I will be collecting these eccentric culinary implements as my budget allows, and there will be no more excuses for my domestic dereliction.

However, it is important to note that we cannot forsake Tupperware altogether. As long as Phranc, the self-described "all-American, Jewish lesbian, folk-singing, surfing Tupperware Lady," is in the biz we must be loyal. In fact, the movie about her adventures in plastic should be required viewing.

ISO: Train Car Gallery

2006-07-10T12:32:00.000-07:00

I was totally inspired by Labrona's picks of train car graffiti in the latest issue of Beautiful Decay Magazine. The portraits were surprising and surreal, and his idea of a train yard as a constantly changing art gallery is enchanting. His own Fotolog site is an incredible resource and hub for the international tag artist community; it features photos of his own work, captured by fans and follow artists when trains have come through their towns/states/countries, as well as work by other artists. It's amazing to think of a portrait traveling on a train car from Montreal to Los Angeles, to Mexico, and waaaaaay beyond. A few of my favorite Labrona trains are here, here, here, and here.

I've been reluctant to climb a fence and stomp around a train yard here in L.A., due to fear of junk yard dogs or worse...so I took a spontaneous field trip out to Tehachapi seeking easy access to some cars. I couldn't remember exactly what was out there, just that people who are coo coo for trains make the pilgrimage. Come to find out there are no train yards -- but there is a railfan favorite site, the Tehachapi Loop. Built by American engineers and Chinese workmen, the loop was completed in 1876 and is still considered an impressive feat of engineering. It also has its own fan club, the Tehachapi Loop Railroad Club. Incidentally, also found in Tehachapi is the White Wolf Fault Zone, cause of the 7.7 earthquake that rocked the area in 1952. The fault zone intersects the train tracks with a 500-foot wide swath. Yikes!

None of that exactly suited my interests, but it was a great field trip all the same. The 1 1/2 hour drive took me through desert and mountain ranges, and by Pyramid Lake. And in Mojave, I found a few trains along the main road. I ran around taking pictures in the final moments of sunlight, getting my last shot just as I walked into the NO TRESPASSING sign. I was also blessed with a beautiful sunset, which I shot through my filthy windshield.

The search for the train car gallery continues.

Allez Les Bleus!

2006-07-06T14:40:00.000-07:00

Bu Bu jumps into my shot to celebrate her compatriots' victory

Back to old stomping grounds for the long July 4th weekend. Who was it that originally left his heart in San Francisco? I can't believe how much I walked away from when I left that town. The Bay Area is a Good Times/Good-Living Zone.

Great timing for the trip as two World Cup games were scheduled for Saturday. At 7:30 AM in the Lower Haight our group was turned away from Mad Dog in the Fog - too crowded already! Margaritas and beers lined the tables just beyond the bouncer. So, over to International Cafe down the street we went for the torturous, tense, crappy England-Portugal game that didn't end until a brutal penalty kick-out. Change of location required for France-Brazil game, of course: Cafe Bastille. I was secretly rooting for Brazil, but Les Bleus were truly (surprisingly!) invincible. Les Francais regularly burst into cheers and songs to spur on their team: "Allez Zizou! Allez Zizou!" "Allez Les Bleus, Allez Les Bleus..." And to goalie Barthez, "Lache rien!" The bar and the street outside exploded when victory was sealed. Champagne sprayed into the air, and in an only-in-SF moment, Gloria Gaynor's perennial gay anthem, "I Will Survive," played on a loop.

Back home now, but Les Bleus continue their winning streak. Portugal quit their diving and flopping around on the field yesterday, but they could not muster a goal. Sunday brings the final challenge, against Italy. We will see if the team dismissed by foes as too old and maligned by extreme right politician Jean-Marie Le Pen for its inclusion of immigrants can bring home a stunning victory. Allez Les Bleus!

Launch of the Pacifist Chicken

2006-06-27T09:26:00.000-07:00

Hurray! Andrea published her first book of short stories. She's an official author now, and we fêted her first volume -- with its sleek, smart design -- at a swank party in Silverlake. I'm loving the stories so far. Next to read: Barbie Was Always Really Smart (Too bad her mom was such a dim bulb) and My Dream Dog (What if you wished your dog were your boyfriend and it came true?) At the party, I heard You read aloud for the second time. In this story, Andrea so accurately describes the twisted wormholes of the mind, it's spooky. The quiet anxieties we weather and secret compromises we make throughout the day are so intimate -- yet she's exposed them in print for all to read! But just when I start to think I could have written that story, because I have experienced so much of it, a sophisticated turn of phrase or surprising subtle burst of humor reminds me how truly well crafted the piece is. Okay, I guess I couldn't have written it.

I'm already antsy for her next book since I got a sneak preview of a poem in the works. The story of animals clamoring around a house, disturbing the human occupant brings to life the piss & vinegar temperament I fall victim to every now and then. I told Andrea it mirrors me when I get a bout of The Mean Reds. She said it was based on a miserable neighbor up the street who has a permanent scowl and seems to suck the joy out of every living day. Oh.

Andrea is letting me share a little of the in-progress poem here.
Below are the first couple stanzas, and then a few of my favorites from the middle. It actually has a whimsical, sort of happy ending; but I'm not including that, because it's my least favorite part.

They Play, by Andrea Kampic
(excerpt)

I sat on my couch with my beer and the TV
On pretty loud
I had had a long hard day
At work where it’s troubling to be
I didn’t want the phone
To ring or the bell to chime
I wanted to be alone

You don’t know what it’s like
To be me in my house
Where there is little to do
Yet so much to do
You don’t know how hard it is
To get up each morning and go there
And have so little to come home to
. . .

The noises grew closer
These creatures were probably digging
Up my yard that I had just reseeded after the last
Bout of weeds came from nowhere
To make me work for free

I put the beer down, knowing it would be
Warmer when I returned
I like it cold
I squeezed my unsocked feet
Into the shoes I last wore
Still by the door
I held the stick I keep for these occasions

The squeals were annoying me
In that place in me that can get most annoyed
Most easily
I opened the door noisily, hoping to scare
The moonlights out of the critters
I like to make up words
. . .

To read the entire poem, you'll have to become a fan and be ready when Andrea's second book is published!

Sugar High Friday: Soy (Extreme Measures)

2006-06-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

Double Soy Chocolate Chip Cookies With Cranberries & Currants

When I set my mind to something, I am down for the whole thing. Obstacles have never deterred me. For many years I put my Ikea/West Elm/Cost Plus furniture together with a pair of scissors, a sauce pan, and a pitcher of margaritas, because I didn't have any tools (and because I was daft!). So - when I came across a reference to a most wondrous thing in the blogosphere -- Sugar High Fridays -- I knew I had to get in on it. Even though I haven't baked in years and don't even have flour, sugar, or butter stocked in the house these days. Even though I don't own a digital camera to easily document the production & final glory of my entry. Even though the ticking clock was against me making the June deadline. Ha! I make a mockery of common sense.

Though very sorry to miss SHF #18: Candy is Dandy but Liquor is Quicker, I was game for this month's challenge: make a dessert that features at least one soy product. I found a great online resource and finally settled on an easy first effort: cookies. Originally called Cranberries Currants Butter Cookies, I'm renaming them "Double Soy Chocolate Chip Cookies with Cranberries and Currants." Or maybe not. In any case, my first Sugar High Friday entry features TWO soy products: soy butter and Zoe Foods Flax and Soy Granola Cereal, Cranberries Currants flavor.

Now, I can shop and follow a recipe just as well as the next person. But photographing the process was an entertaining debacle. I love my Pentax manual camera, but I have no flash, and being a working stiff really puts a crimp in my daylight hours. The solution was clear: run home on my lunch hour & crank this recipe out with my camera around my neck. Already, it was an amusing task; when I discovered there still wasn't enough light to photograph in my kitchen, further absurd adjustments had to be made. At each stage of the process I hauled my food processor and ingredients out to the back yard where I found extra-bright light (check out the glare in these pics!) -- and weeds as tall as corn stalks! (Must learn to garden this weekend!) I tried not to drop the dough into the dirt, struggled to keep the weeds out of the frame, and cursed every time my camera went swinging from my neck into the counter or the oven door - slam! Meanwhile, the clock was ticking, and the dogs next door were barking like banshees, alarmed by all the commotion.

Process aside, the good news: the dough was fantastic! (In fact, I didn't even get to try the finished cookies, because I over-indulged so much.) When I had one batch out of the oven, I put them on a plate and sped back to work, a little late, but offering chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Consensus was they were very tasty, with a slightly more "earthy" or "healthy" flavor than your average cookie. Hurray.

I originally waffled over adding chocolate chips, thinking it might be nice to tweak the recipe to be completely vegan. But when I read the nutritional information for Zoe Granola Cereal, I knew I had no choice; a person could probably be thrown out of Sugar High Fridays for stats like these:

Foods Flax & Soy Granola Cereal is a moist, naturally sweetened, blend of dry-roasted soybeans, ground flaxseed, grains, and fruit. Every serving of Flax & Soy Granola Cereal has a tablespoon of ground flaxseed and naturally provides omega-3 fatty acids, protein, fiber, and phytoestrogens, natural plant estrogens. It contains no cholesterol, is low in saturated fat and sodium, and is wheat free.

The best part was the reminder of how truly sublime warm, homemade chocolate chip cookies are. One of the memories I hold dearest to my heart is of a rainy afternoon at Long Beach Day Nursery School so many years ago. After indoor painting, we were treated to chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. While the rain tumbled down, the universe was forever transformed by the smell and taste of those treasures. It was magical, and the memory is a permanent reminder to me of the unknown, unexpected delights to be encountered in Life.

And so, it's done. I love you, Sugar High Fridays. And I will be getting a digital camera very soon.

Double Soy Chocolate Chip Cookies With Cranberries and Currants

Preheat oven to 350°F

Beat Together
8 oz soy butter
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs

Stir In
2 tsp vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp nutmeg

Mix In
2 cups flour
1 box Zoe Foods Flax & Soy Granola - Cranberries & Currants

Add
6 oz bittersweet chocolate chips

Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto ungreased cookie sheet and bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes.

All Roads Lead to Watts

2006-06-16T17:27:00.000-07:00

This past month all roads have truly led to Watts. Or more specifically, to the Watts Towers of Simon Rodia: the masterpiece Italian immigrant Simon “Sam” Rodia labored over for 34 years and named “Nuestro Pueblo.” After escaping a demolition order by the City Building Department in the ‘70s (they passed the “stress” test with amusing success when the truck w/crane straining to pull the Towers over was itself hoisted into the air and left dangling!) the Towers became an art treasure in L.A., complemented by the Watts Towers Art Center exhibition and educational space. In a community still suffering from poverty and permanent association with the local riots of 1965, this site is a shining jewel.

But first things first. Before visiting the Towers, Andretta and I attended the opening night performance of Roger Guenveur Smith’s Solomania! project at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, The Watts Towers Project. His performance was complete artistry, but it was a sprawling narrative that loosely connected the story of the Towers and their creator to his own youth spent in Watts, his family, friends and career, and a mass of themes, including: fatherhood; surviving or succumbing to desperate times; defining identity within your surroundings; and so much more. Feeling confused later, my fuzzy, lazy brain was shamed by the L.A. Times Review which raved: “…few artists succeed as hypnotically as Roger Guenveur Smith in transforming themselves into spoken jazz;” and “Resistance is futile in the face of a performer this entrancingly good.” (Though it did echo my sentiment that some of the confusion was unnecessary: “…a bit more contextualization of people, places and things would certainly extend the piece's reach.”)

But nothing can prepare you for a tour of the Towers. Close-up, you examine the carefully crafted mosaics of tile and dishware, green 7-Up bottles, blue milk of magnesium bottles, shells, and other found objects. Staring across the site, you are blown away by the wild structures just barely confined within the small triangular plot of land in the middle of Watts.

A baptismal fountain in the Towers

Words fail, and though I shot the obligatory roll of film, photos don’t even provide access to the absurd abundance of colors and shapes. Special Bonus: At the end of the tour, our guide performed an original poem about the Towers and the enigmatic Simon Rodia, spoken-word style.

Most performances/creative expressions about the Towers draw on the power of the supposed inspired madness of their creator and the mythology around the structures which have survived multiple earthquakes and were left untouched during the Watts Riots of August 1965. However, on the final (I think?) road I traveled to Watts this month, a documentary (22 years in the making!) about Rodia and his masterpiece used extensive archival audio and video interviews to bring the person Simon Rodia sharply into focus. Screening at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood as part of the Alternative Screen series, I Build the Towers revealed a smiling slip of a man climbing around his structures with abandon.

The first surprise was that Rodia sounded exactly like Chico Marx! Hearing the first of a continuous stream of Thoughts on Life, “If you be halfa good and halfa no good, well thatsa no good,” I nearly burst out laughing, looking around for the piano in the scene and expecting to hear next, “Well who you gonna’ believe, me or your own eyes?” (BTW can you believe Chico Marx was born in 1887?) Other Thoughts on Life addressed these subjects: the oppressive nature of working for The Man (“You gotta’ do what the boss want”); the government’s reprehensible neglect of the poor; the unfortunate trend against mothers breast-feeding; his heavy drinking days (“I was one of the bad men in the United States”) and subsequent devoted sobriety; and many more.

In 1921, deciding between triangular plots of land in the then-unknown neighborhood of Beverly Hills and in Watts, Rodia settled on 107th Street, because that’s where the people were. According to neighbors, he could often be found wandering around with a gunny sack, picking up found objects along the railroad tracks for use in his Towers. He never wore gloves and built the Towers without the use of bolts, scaffolding, or welding, with tools that one expert claimed pre-dated the industrial era.

An impression of Rodia's tools decorates the wall surrounding the Towers

A one-time evangelist, Rodia apparently baptized babies in the Tower fountains. He buried his car on his plot of land to insure he would not incur any further speeding tickets. (This legend was proven true when the pieces of his old car were disinterred during a City building project.) Yet despite his commitment to the site, when he suffered a stroke at the age of 75 he walked away, never to return, $10,000 cash pinned to the inside of his clothing.

Expressing a sentiment that really resonates with me, artist and former director of the Watts Towers Art Center John Outterbridge explained in the doc that people couldn’t decide whether Simon Rodia was a genius or crazy; but most rightly assumed he was insane: draped in the insanity that we all need.

There Are Things Here Not Seen in This Photograph

2006-06-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

After much Internet sleuthing, I finally found one of my favorite Duane Michals photos online, complete with the accompanying text. Thank You, School of Visual Arts! At first glance, the photo seems uncharacteristic of his work -- it's a very straightforward, beautiful black and white print of a bar (1977) that seems to lack the whimsical storytelling you usually find in his work. But the text offers another dimension:

My shirt was wet with perspiration. The beer tasted good but I was still thirsty. Some drunk was talking loudly to another drunk about Nixon. I watched a roach walk slowly along the edge of a bar stool. On the juke box Glen Campbell began to sing about "Southern Nights." I had to go to the men's room. A derelict began to walk towards me to ask for money. It was time to leave.

Look out for an upcoming photo challenge: capture your own moment on film and describe the things not seen in the photograph...

Exteriors - New & Very Old

2006-05-25T17:10:00.000-07:00

I've dug up some very old photos in a last-ditch effort to find a companion image for this post. (My own, totally unrelated "Exteriors" project is nowhere near completion.) Their charm has really faded for me, but I was motivated to find the Dennis Hopper photos that originally inspired me to take the knock-off pic in Quito.

But -- on to the news:

The new issue of Filtered Visual Arts Magazine is online, theme: Exterior. As usual, I am blown away by the scope of the selections. I love discovering new artists, and hours can simply be lost clicking through the photo logs of artists from Lisbon, Nashville, Seville, Bologna, Russia, Chicago... My favorites this time around come from Lithuania and Melbourne, Australia. And -- instead of a featured artist section, we get a very cool Editor's Picks selection of the best work from the first year. Next issue: Interior. Get your photos ready.

Déjà Vu All Over Again

2006-05-22T13:42:00.000-07:00

"Thank you" to the man who walked into my shot - 1998, San Francisco. Back in the darkroom for the first time in over three years, and finding it discouraging to be re-learning the process for the third time - first in SF, then in NYC four years later, and now again in LA. Feeling creatively stuck in the same place, working from old negatives, because I haven't shot anything new...sigh. Reason #999 not to scrap everything and relocate to a new city in search of something new any time soon.

But watching this print come to life in the developer, I felt some of my inspiration return. I may finally head out into La La Land with my Pentax in hand and reclaim my obsesssion with documenting the "lifescape."

Honky-Tonk Heroes...and Birds!

2006-05-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

Laura left her cabin in the woods to come sign her new book and sell the original paintings in Hollywood. Along with two walls of honky-tonk heroes and hillbilly angels, the gallery was filled with birds. A long Upstate New York winter brought inspiration to Miss Laura, and she filled canvas after canvas with vintage stamps and a veritable catalogue of chirpers. We traded news and sipped cheap wine and lamented the long-time-no-see. Though her illustration of the B-52s song, "Wig!" will always be my favorite, I have a soft spot for this honky-tonk collaboration.

H.D.T.S. 2006

2006-05-18T14:49:00.000-07:00

Weekend in the Desert

Headed out to my favorite place - the desert! - for the fifth annual High.Desert.Test.Sites. art weekend in Joshua Tree and surrounding areas. Roamed all over the landscape for outdoor installations, a concert in the rocks at dusk, a BBQ in the dry lake bed... Laid-back vibe was great, and I loved the little surprises that filled out the schedule of events and installation sites. Free popsicles served with your choice of propaganda! A gold Mercedes stalled out along the road somewhere with the makings of free margaritas in the trunk! (Despite our trailblazing and my focused visualizations, we never crossed paths. I got such a bee in my bonnet we finally had to stop by Safeway to pick up margarita-flavored wine coolers.) It was a great creative escapade.

Favorite part: Hitting the Road: An Orientation to the American Road Trip presentation at the Joshua Tree Saloon on Saturday. Two Los Angeles Urban Rangers presented their official roadside field kit, including various maps of the country, routes of the original westward expansion, and several exercises suggested for road-trippers. First exercise: "Car Mapping," in which you map the key areas of the road trip vehicle. And my favorite, the "Photographic Scavenger Hunt," which challenges road-trippers to avoid easy, ready-made shots and to instead capture vistas matching specific descriptions/emotions outlined in the field kit, i.e. "claustrophobic," "melancholy," "sublime," "superficial" etc. For specimen collection, the kit included plastic bags and pre-printed labels; a cocktail napkin from the saloon was sealed up with the labels, "Small Town" and "Ready-Made" affixed to the bag. In a stroke of fantastic symmetry, a bunch of artists will travel across the country en route to the final "Interstate" presentation in Long Island City, NY's Socrates Sculpture Park - right near my old stomping grounds in Astoria. (I'm already daydreaming about my favorite summertime bar, the Bohemian Beer Garden.)

My fantasies of buying property in the desert and retreating to a life of big trucks and cowboy boots faded as I wilted in the final hours of a mercilessly bright Sunday. And while camping in Joshua Tree National Park is fun for the whole family and what-have-you - next time it's all about the motel with a pool. Perhaps the Joshua Tree Inn, where the spirit of Gram Parsons swims.