and now for a true story

My mom got into college at 16 years old. She was a math whiz and an excellent student. Unlike me.

Back then Black people were limited to the colleges they could attend. Even though Honest Abe had freed us in the 1860s and even though the Declaration of Independence in 1776 said something about all men being equal, in the 1960s my mom was only allowed into a Black college.She chose Fisk University in Nashville, Tennessee. John Lewis did too.

Fisk was very strict with the young ladies. They had to sign in and sign out whenever they left the dorms. One afternoon her friends said there was something that was going to happen downtown at the drug store and since a few of the girls were going as a group, she would be allowed to leave campus.

It turned out it was one of the first civil rights demonstrations ever. It was a concept so new my mom didn’t even know what it was. They had all assembled to protest the segregation of the lunch counter at the drug store.

When my mom figured out what was happening she turned right around and got on the bus and got back to school
ASAP. She was a proper southern gentlewoman (still is). She did not want to break the law.

Later when she moved to Washington DC she’d march along with the multitudes with MLK and was even at the I Have A Dream rally. She said they were behind the stage and could only hear it.

When John Lewis died yesterday she texted me to ask if I had heard. Then she said, “he was at Fisk when I was there.”

I said, “really? Was he at that first protest you ended up at?”

She said, “he led it along with Diane Nash.”

And here I thought I had gone to college with cool people.

RIP Congressman.

what is even anything

it’s 3am. in bed. full of energy. there’s a baby possum sneaking around over by the grill.

people of the future: these were bizarre times. no street cleaning. Apple stores all closed. Malls closed. Beaches open. Ppl demanding to get their hair done.

Amber wants me to help dye her hair and I’m sorta against it. I feel like a line will be crossed.

Also she doesn’t need it. We’re in bikinis and tshirts most of the time. Who are we trying to impress?

Obviously the possum approves.

Speaking of Apple they’ve been very cool. Their new Air is fine but after years on a 17inch trying to look at a 13 inch is like staring down a porthole.

After posting that video last week all these people starting following me on Facebook because some of them think I know those guys for some reason.

One guy DMed me and said, check it the state starts growing weed and sells it. that way when you buy it you’re like helping support teachers.

I’ve had to unfriend a few already. One guy was super anti-journalism. When did this start? Must there be a tv show that truly talks about journalism every day? Spectrum has this one about the LA Times but it can feel very infomercial-ly.

Get in there. And talk about radio and tv and digital. Put things in context.

I don’t mean to exaggerate, future people. Not Every Apple store is closed. In San Diego a few are open. I was gonna drive down there to do the switch but first I entered into a chat with Apple Support.

It was a dream.

Dude up sold me and figured out how it could get delivered in a day.

Still not sleepy.

do you know how lucky we are?

me, you them, all of us are fortunate to be here

now

sharing this tiny sliver of time together

on this miraculous rock

where the air, water, temperature, oxygen levels are all at the right point

yes theres famine and pollution and crazy economic disparity

but we are here together.

and so many of us want to help.

and we are helping.

and as my preacher said today via YouTube

maybe it seems like everythings upside down right now

because maybe things are finally turning right side up

i am lucky that you are here

via the crazy internet tubes

which are filled with both plus signs

and negatives.

zeroes and ones.

you and mes.

me and yous.

lets try to do one more good thing this week

than we did last week

for someone.

im waiting, i dont like to wait. especially for what im waiting on.

was it easier when i was young and dumb?

i feel like it’s harder when youre older because you have expectations based on miracles or

the Best case scenarios

i wanna go to the beach after im done waiting but amber doesnt.

what if i went alone?

i haven’t done anything truly alone like that in years.

id rather go with her. she loves malibu.

in her dream world she’d open a coffee shop there and employ young people on the spectrum.

in my dream world id open up a pizza joint there.

when i was a kid we had a pizza joint in our neighborhood called

The Pizza Joint.

they made round pizzas and cut the slices in squares.

pizza these days only gives me a stomach ache because i was so spoiled by those pizzas in my youth.

ok done, the toast popped up.

in the days of chimpanzees

it’s taking me forever to write things during this pandemic.
can i blame it?

am i getting old? have i lost it? is this it?

beck turned 50 yesterday.

this blue eyed child who when he was introduced via my SPIN magazine subscription he looked like a schoolboy.

how is he 50?

how does anything survive and not just bob in the water but

live?

i dont wanna just sit there and let the waves rock me around

a victim of the tides and the winds

i wanna be part of the current.

i wanna say we’re going this way.

i wanna say we’re not going that way.

beck didnt wanna whiteboy rap anymore so he didnt have to.

i have so much control over what i write and still

today every sentence was a struggle.

everything.

and i know what it was, i was trying to make it

you cant try and it wont make it.

its gonna be it no matter how much you futz with it.

i think it was shakespeare who said writing is like taking a dump, you can’t force it, you can’t will it

you just have to eat right, act right and marvel when it arrives fully formed and solid.

tennyson mighta said that, actually.

amber and i had our sixth anniversary from the first time we kissed today.

time flies when yr staring at the sun.

this column is probably why im not a columnist

There’s this thing going on today in LA Twitter asking people where are the most cursed places in LA.

Fuck that shit.

People are saying this intersection or that one. This Target Husk or that spot where Biggie got shot.

Fuck it all.

LA, like anything interesting and valuable, is complicated, deep, and at times just as beautiful as it is fugly.

The intersection that you don’t like because it doesn’t have a roundabout on it or a stop light or a street light, I fucking love for the exact same reasons.

I live in walking distance of Target Husk and for going on five years I have seen that half built structure tease me, the innocent child stuck in a custody case. Is it too big? Is the Home Depot of the same size next to it?

Q. Do we need 100 Targets?
A: DO WE NEED 1,000 STARBUCKS?

And now that it finally has been okayed to finish being built, I’m missing its unkempt, crappy plastic flapping in the wind. Soon it will just be another Target. Fuck that.

So many people move to LA and first thing they wanna do is bitch. OMG it’s so expensive. OMG people are so phony. OMG the traffic. OMG the parking. OMG OMG OMG.

You know what wasn’t expensive or phony or trafficky with plenty of parking? The fucking village you fled from the second you could.

LA is the beautiful model actress hooker waitress you continually whine about being high maintenance even though you broke up with your perfectly reasonable “love” when you climbed into your UHaul.

Yes there are fucked up intersections. Avoid them. Yes there are bad drivers. They’re called New Yorkers! And yes shit cost money here but look around, there’s more opportunity to make those ends here in LA than where you graduated high school, so suck it up or move back home like all the other quitters.

If LA was easy everyone would live here.

It’s only cursed on Twitter.

10 things i wrote in June for Los Angeleno


it’s funny. i dont think i write much. i dont think i write as well as i used to. i dont think theres any magic in my makeup. when i look in the mirror i dont see the man i thought i would be.

then something happens. then something gets popular. and i think i still got it.

which is ridiculous because who cares if the public responds? who cares if the right people at the right time click the retweet button? did that make what i wrote any better? shouldnt i just judge myself with my heart?

shouldnt i just say, i wouldnta published it if i didnt think it was good?

i have never cared about people’s approval. why start now? because im not 21 any more? because im not getting 100s of comments on shit anymore? trust me, in 2020 if youre getting 100s of comments on something it’s probably bad news.

last month i was in DEEP on the Rona beat. then i had to also do the BLM beat. it was a lot. it kept me from features and Q&As which is why this month i’ve been asked to lay off the roundups and focus more on original things.

this week imma write about baseball and swimming pools. but best laid plans… who knows i might meet the coolest Somebody and talk to them for an hour and write it all up and dole it all out. thats why i love Los Angeleno.

15 Epic Moments From LAPD’s Police Commission Zoom Meeting

 

Skip the Lines and Get Tested for COVID-19 at Home

 

discovered something weird

walked around hollywood today. my favorite town. freaky. dirty. dangerous.

home.

at the target in weho right before closing time

there was a parade of color and skin and wtf.

right now you gotta wear a mask if you go outside.

but this one guy had on the most intricate thing. two different chambers for filtered air.

and a face shield.

but one of his feet was broken? so that foot didnt have either a shoe

or a sock on it.

i was looking for sleeves for a three ring binder for

baseball cards.

so whos the actual freak?