i wonder if he ever tried the Pax Era?
i wonder if he ever tried the Pax Era?
so i skedaddle
today i went to venice beach, which has been near and dear to me since i first moved here in the early 1700s.
it’s weird, im weird, we get each other.
i haven’t smoked weed in a while so smelling the second hand smoke was so nice.
there were a lot of aromas i smelt, but did not dealt.
one was the scent of da club. not sure how that wafted, but it did.
on the way over i stopped off at this japanese market place called Mitsuwa and picked up a Bento Box
ate it while i watched 5×5 street ball on the venice courts
they were so bad i was thinking about going out there but ive had my day
these seagulls were hovering around me because someone left a half a plate of french fries but i was too near them so they hovered, squawking at each other
be cool, hes leaving, I SAID BE COOL
but i wasnt leaving.
drank my water, watched them play. there was a young lady out there. she wasnt bad. they didnt talk trash to her. but they did put their worst guy on her.
so many mistakes.
one guy could dunk.
gave $5 to this dude who plays the piano. he smelled of piss. like real bad. hes homeless.
tunes his piano and plays really fast, missing lots of notes, adding a few to even it out.
hes half deaf.
hung out with this south american dude who sells dollar cokes
we bumped fists. somehow he remembered me from the last time i was there, months ago.
had this awesome flashback when i passed the post office that it used to be a safeway in the ’80s.
LA has been so good to me, you have no idea.
stranger in a strange land.
me. fucking nobody with three cents to my name.
driving home took forever. west side. like what are people doing?
ohio, santa monica, wilshire. all jammed even at 4pm. no way around it. nearly got on the 10. next time i’ll try my luck with olympic. west siders dont wanna go through the hood so maybe Adams.
on the way in i had to write a piece for Los Angeleno.
they hit me up last night about a piece about Angelenos nominated for the Oscars.
right up my alley. i was honored theyd even think of me.
so i drove to Culver City and asked Waze where the nearest public library was.
turned out it was 3 blocks away. such a nice little library. everything was clean and nice.
but then one little girl kept repeating the same phrase over and over in the childrens section.
i was trying to do my magic AND I WAS SOMEHOW but this lil angel kept with her bullshit
i turned around to give her the evil eye but neither her hot mom nor she picked up on it.
how am i gonna fertilize an egg if i cant put up with that, i thought?
she soon left and i got back to my masterpiece.
then a different little girl ran over to this wooden kitchen and opened and slammed the doors over and over and over
why is there a kitchen in a library? i wanted to say as loud as humanly possible.
but childhood is precious so i kept my trap shut as this 2 year old banged away as her mom browsed her phone.
the old man sleeping in the chair next to me did not wake up.
the librarians, of which there were far too many for this little place did not shush her.
i was clearly the asshole, once again.
but heres the crazy thing, i got my work done.
i wanted out of there, i wanted to be at the beach, i wanted this assignment behind me, i wanted food, i wanted the boardwalk.
it was a great motivation. and im telling you i knocked that article out faster than i have done in a very very long time.
weed is not the reason im a professional writer.
the angels who whisper funny jokes in my ears are.
and they wanted to go soak in the 75 degree temps on 2/10/22 too.
Chicago Evening Mail, 1871
so much has changed, and yet nothing has changed
and now im having a rabbi look it over and give me his blessing.
i could write about coke and religion all day.
in fact i did for two weeks and it was fascinating and heartbreaking and frustrating.
true story: last night i was getting sleepy and went to the fridge to get a Mexicoke. upon realizing i was out, i thought of ways to get one in the wee hours.
if the grocery store was closed perhaps get overcharged at a 7-11?
since i dont drink coffee, it’s pretty much the only way i stay awake.
then i realized i have like 3, 2-liter bottles of kosher coke, which is what my story is about.
they are warm but i dont care. i opened one up, poured myself a cup in one of ambers many unused coffee cups.
and it did the trick.
i am really hoping this story will do well tomorrow. i even asked my old boss if he would give it a good headline.
he was all, what are you writing? i said this thing about kosher food.
he said im a jew!
i said get outta dodge
he said already did and im still a jew.
i was all perfect.
then he said the magic words. he said i look forward to reading what you have to write about my people
i said you would?
and thats it. because i finally had someone to write to, i was back on track.
the big problem is, in order to not give a shit what people think, i often convince myself that absolutely no one is going to read it.
and sometimes im too good at convincing myself that, so my brain is like, whats the use of writing this thing if no ones gonna read it?
so now imma write it for rob, a solid man, a long time friend who ive known since he was a teenager.
i even went to his wedding.
the feeling of relief is real.
lessons i learned:
when i was done i sent it a boss i had 21 years ago!
i figured that since she has kids, it was late, and my thing was over 50 pages she would blow off even skimming it until tomorrow.
but in no time she had written me this:
I have a couple of (super minor) editorial suggestions for you, but it’s just little stuff. We can chat tomorrow morning if you like, but this is a fantastic, creative, informative, entertaining piece, and I think that it will be very well received!
that is what i needed!
so then i looked back at it to see if it had transformed into something incredible and boom right at the top i see a mistake. so hopefully that was one of the things she was talking about.
but wow. i have a huge weight lifted off my shoulders and i got positive reinforcement from someone who is an expert in the field and whose advice i totally value.
what was it?
i wrote a thing about social media, brand building and recruiting in a global industry with lots of competitors.
i kept it real because who cares any more.
lou reed’s birthday was yesterday and arent we happy that he kept it real?
i need to learn why he was so angry so often even though he was always surrounded by great artists, musicians, music, and life
but whatever. maybe people will ask why was i so happy when so many things didnt turn out for me.
BECAUSE SO MANY DID, future people!
it’s already hard. im addicted. and im procrastinating.
i have so much work to do and a hard out on Thursday. maid’s coming, so i have to skedaddle outta here.
two weeks worth of work boiled into six days.
how will i do it? am i that amazing?
i gotta say this about my first year with Los Angeleno, i always wanted to write more since leaving LAist way back when and it’s nice to write again.
it makes me really appreciate those who do it every day or damn near every day. it’s not easy.
my problem is not in the story ideas. i have 10 a day. good ones. perfect ones.
its: can i remain excited about them 20 minutes after theyre approved?
the answer is rarely yes. so i try to write as fast as i can before i get bored to death.
my brain zips around so much these days FOR OBVIOUS REASONS and social media does not help because each page refresh or full screen scroll leads to two new moments of agita.
thats one thing i miss about not being in Chicago, even though i havent been there in ages, i miss the italians
today at the grocery store this black guy passed me and said nice hat.
turned out he was from the South Side. super rarity to have that happen.
most younger black dudes from that part of town are Sox fans.
they view Cub fans as entitled white boy fratty dudes — and they’re not 100% wrong.
so i asked him why a Cub fan and he said his grandma always had WGN on back in the day.
i wish more networks understood the secret trick that WGN did to us:
Ray Rayner cartoons in the morning, Bozo at noon and the Cubs at 1:20pm.
it tricked millions of us kids to get addicted.
i still dont know how a kids show at noon stayed so successful when most of their target market – pre TIVO – was at school, but thats another story idea for another media outlet.
i had terrible writers block last month.
i just coudnt get it together.
i struggled harder than i have — ever. just too much was going on. like all the time. finally i snapped out of it.
i just let that gunk flow through me and waited. and finally it was gone. and i was able to get back to writing.
but if that makes you think i wasnt concerned AF, youd be wrong. fortunately i was able to eek these out:
Why My Girlfriend Doesn’t Want to Eat in a Parking Garage in Glendale
Why Not Just Party if the Cops — and Everyone Else — Are Doing it?
Picking a Psychiatrist’s Brain About Kanye, Racism, and the Rise of Karens
Twitter Sounds Off on Kamala Harris’ VP Nomination
Uber and Lyft Poised to Hit Cancel on California Like the Losers They Are
Who Is That Masked Man Offering Me Pizza?
The Buck Stops Here: NBA, WNBA, MLS and some MLB Games Postponed
i interviewed someone who was so easy to talk with. sooooo easy.
in fact any time she was all, did you see this, did you see that?
i was all, yes. of course! and i had.
she is a shrink and the last question i asked was did she think everyone should be in therapy.
she said yes.
and i keep wondering what i would talk about in there because im good
but usually im thinking things like that when im procrastinating.
thats would i would want to work on with a shrink
how i could be more productive about work
so i could be lazier at rest.
it took me days and days to transcribe that interview.
it kills me to hear my questions and annoying laugh and weird voice
sentence by sentence over and over.
but when its over i feel so good.
its like being constipated for days, sometimes weeks, and then
imagine if i could just do it in hours, knock it out, and then spend the next two days
eyes closed, beautiful music playing from a different room
bathtub filling with mr bubble
all while trying to float into a
im gonna try this next week.
if youre having writers block, dont write.
but he was a short story writer.
i get paid to type.
i can’t just not write.
plus the things i like to write about are timely.
this day has come and gone and nothing.
maybe four paragraphs.
and theyre all terrible.
i think im exhausted.
i think im thinking too much.
i think i have too many distractions.
i think i am a distraction.
R. Crumb when he was doing the Old Testament, bought a house on the top of a hill in France. but it was far away from his actual house in France.
his wife would show up on Friday night with food and supplies like ink (he draws with old fashioned ink pens you have to dip) and then gave him love until Sunday and then she would drive back down the mountain.
then he’d work.
took him 6 years to finish the book.
but what a book!
but i aint got 6 years.
in a perfect world i would have two stories finished before tomorrow.
but i aint no where close.
i think thats the problem. im trying to eat this elephant whole. and i have convinced myself i gotta eat two elephants.
i just wanna go to palm springs.
might just go to palm springs anyhow.
i am Lots wife. i just wanna look back at the past even if it kills me. hotels, margaritas, sunshine, naps.
it is killing me though.
ive gotta push through.