everything is more than zero

ive lived in LA so long and ive met so many people but

im still a stranger and i havent met you and you and you and you

in the 80s i met a guy who ended up in brett easton ellis’s book shortly after he met me

not only did he meet me but he “borrowed” some of my clothes and left behind his super expensive threads.

i have kissed the prettiest girls. earned money in the fanciest homes. heard the best stories and written a few.

im thinking about starting an instagram about my neighborhood. i am thinking about every day going out and talking to just one person and either taking their picture or video taping it. even though video tape doesnt exist any more.

so much doesnt exist. even people. which is why i really need to document them.

sure theres humans of new york but and no offense but fuck new york. new york is the exception to all the rules. it may as well be a planet in another solar system.

LA though is different. so different. and hollywood even more so.

you drive around LA and into other counties. the further the better. and then you come back to this one and it dawns on you “how can anyone afford to live here?” how do they do it. which is im sure what you can say about NY too but fuck NY. why snow? why rain? why the yankees?

in a million years why the yankees?

but LA is the american dream. LA is where dreams come true is the best part. LA is where No Cal and Mexico french kiss on a balcony at 12:31am on the last night of summer.

new york doesnt even have summer.

his name was atif.

saw elvis costello play at the ace in downtown

elvis costelloseen elvis play maybe 8-10 times? but never saw a show at the remodeled united artists theater and mama mia is that place killer

i originally bought a pair of tickets the day they went on sale, but they were terrible and no one jumped out and said take me take me so i sold them saturday and bought a single ticket in the third row balcony

took a lyft over. driver was indian. super nice guy but horrible driver. says he lives deep in the inland empire but he always gets one ride that takes him into LA and then hes stuck here.

so he drives around until he gets to downtown and then hopes some asian guy wants to go to san gabriel, but he can also get unlucky and a tourist wants to go to the beach

he said he wasnt going to risk his luck and said as soon as he dropped me off he was heading home.

elvis had a big fake tv behind him. most of the show it was just him solo with one of his dozen guitars. he played on the piano a little too.

i gotta say, as much as i love him, i always thought that he was a weak instrumentalist but after this show im glad to say i was wrong wrong wrong. he was perfectly good all by himself on guitar or piano and added with his incredible vocal range it was quite a treat.

wisely he brought opening act Megan and Rebecca Lovell of the Larkin Poe to accompany on a generous amount of numbers. one was on mandolin played like a rhythm guitar the other on a type of lap steel that emitted some haunting leads

their background singing were lovely and it spiced up the presentation a tad harking back memories of when Prince played with those twins a few years back

the best moments were when Elvis moved away from the mic and the amplifiers and just sang to the crowd within the perfectly acoustic 90 year old theater

everyone hushed up as one of the finest songwriters with one of the best voices

cried out to the full house

who loved every second of it.

that starkness, intimateness, that Jungian throwback to the campfire or the cliffside

it was so raw so natural and the type of thing you can only do with a great song

elvis played like four encores, many with the girls

i ran into broome, brendon and kpcc’s alex cohen.

the couple in front of me couldnt stop talking or moving. i know it was a concert, but come on.

afterwards i avoided the mob scene of ubers and the one taco stand, walked a few blocks. weather was perfect. like a summer night. found an empty taco truck got two tacos and ate them right there.

took a lyft home. mexican guy. he complained how someone wiped his hotdog fingers with ketchup all over his seats and how another lady spilled her red bull and lyft wouldnt pay.

i said, no food or drinks in the ride, g. and he looked at me like i was an a martian.

its sorta too bad

 

that me and cuban girl have to stop seeing each other, cuz she took me to the Kodak Theater last night to see Elvis Costello and he fucking rocked.

Maybe he’s having some sort of mid life crisis but it’s nice. I’ve seen the King of America about 7-8 times and never has he played with such vigor and, i dont know, spirit.

ornery as ever, costello played a generous portion of his 20th album, the newly released “when i was cruel.”

i was a bit perturbed by the song selection, but elvis made up for it with three songs from ’87’s “blood and chocolate” (“uncomplicated”, “hope you’re happy now”, and the torch classic “i want you” which ended the three-encore night).

new bassist Davey Faragher rocked out on the right hand side, steve nieve tickled the ivories, and pete thomas accompanied costello at the Kodak, hollywood’s new home for the academy awards.

we sat in the front row of the upper mezzanine.

ran into birthday boy George Wright, who not only scored a new gig yesterday, but doesnt look a day over 25. fucker.

quick tip: the lines for the booze are long. but each bar has a line in the back that no one uses. use it.

after the show, cuban girl and i went across the street to the hollywood blvd mcdonalds and induldged in a mcrib and a shake and watched a family of tourists from africa complain that the Hi-C was “expired.” the mcdonalds lady was trying to explain that she was going to check the CO2, but i wanted to tell the tourists that McDonalds may be a luxury in ghana but in hollywood at 11:30pm it’s just something to toss down your gullet.

instead we just grabbed a seat with a good view of the outrage and ate our fries and laughed and laughed.

saw a trio of old people drinking coffee. one old man looked like he just robbed a raver store. he had three-quarter baby blue pants, a white longsleeve, lots of necklaces and a knit cap. he looked a hundred times cooler than me. which, if you know me, isnt all that hard.

costello played no cover tunes but made sure to insult the people in the orchestra seats to the delight of those of us in the cheap seats.