A little late for a summer song...

...but a great song none the less. Empire of the Sun "Walking on a Dream". This is all that's available from these guys right now. The one song. I hope the rest is this good. A mad 80's vibe in that chorus. This'll be my last post from Los Angeles. For now. Next, Toronto!


And please, have a look at this creepy girl.

Two weeks to go.

So, as of right now I am two weeks away from returning to T.O. Mixed emotions. I am trying to cram as much stuff in as possible. Anyone who might be interested in grabbing a drink when I get home, please message me. It may not feel like I have been away that long, but it feels like forever to me.

Someone mentioned the band Archers of Loaf today and it reminded how much I love "Web in Front" I hadn't seen the video until five minutes ago and what a weird one it is. If you can explain it to me, I'd love to...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Black Postcards

Been reading Dean Wareham's Black Postcards: A Rock & Roll Romance. A great and easy read. And by easy I don't mean simple. It's so easy because it's fascinating. I myself have never researched the history of any of Wareham's bands (Galaxie 500, Luna, Dean & Britta) and to hear the story straight from the source cuts out any risk of false information found on the web. Granted this is Dean's story not everyone elses.

Luna: This Time Around


Galaxie 500: Tugboat


Dean & Britta: You Turn My Head Around (Back Numbers is a great album for those that don't already know.)

Bad ass Bill Withers

Listened to some Bill Withers on the road back from Lake Arrowhead today. It's always the right time for BW. Everyone one of these guys is as cool as ice, but if that bass player were any cooler he'd be a bass playin' freezer.

The best dressed man in Hollywood.

When the ship goes down, you better be ready.

What a day. I say 29 miles away from the epicenter of an earthquake is also exactly as close as I ever want to be to one. I went from feeling incredibly dizzy to realizing it was the earth moving in a split second. And I was out the door.

At first I thought "OK, OK. What do I do...stand in a door way." But then I realized I'm on the sixth floor. A door way won't do much good if the floor under your feet is also the roof over someone's head. So I, along with maybe 20 people, took the stairs and met up outside.

One guy, a former marine, was watching a war movie at the time. "Man, I've been to Afghanistan. I was like, going for my uniform before I realized what was going on."

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure my heart was going to stay in my chest. "Oh fuck, oh fuck!" is exactly what I remember saying aloud while I put my hands out in front of me and tried to figure out what to do.

The people that gathered around clearly were not from California. Most people stayed in the building like nothing happened. I think the old man in the apartment next to me may have got up from his lazy boy to grab a beer. That's all he could muster. Ah well, he's old school, he was willing to go down with the ship.

Keeping Up Appearances

What you are witnessing at the moment, is me working through a slight case of writer's block. I'm hoping by the time I have finished with this entry, I'll have it sorted.

Usually what I do when stuck is read. Until I become inspired. And that is what I did this morning. The last issue of The Believer John Brandon author of Arkansas had a piece that discusses his complete lack of life skills. He describes perfectly how it feels to be seen as someone who lacks any ability to look after themself. He writes, "If you ever want someone to believe you are wholly void of practical life skills, tell them you're a writer". I haven't read Arkansas, but I will. OK, that's enough about Mcsweeney's for now. 'Though I love them (it?) so.

I have been cooped up in my L.A. apartment purely by choice. Trying to force words on to a screen. Not exactly ideal. I find myself nursing a mild case of A.D.D. nearly every day. The internet is the cause of it. It doesnt help that i have almost no furniture and everything is beige.

One thing I have learned, not so much recently but in the last little while, is that Skype is a mighty useful program. Not only does it allow you to connect with the people you miss the most, but it enables you to miss them while staring them in the virtual face. If you don't have it, get it, and add me.

Interning at The Sound Of Young America has been pretty great so far. Although the pressure I put on myself is exhausting. The job doesn't demand too much but, I seem to have a knack for making things difficult for myself. That has always been true. But I am getting over it...slowly. Aside from the obligatory administrative duties that all interns are subject to, I am also able to sharpen my interviewing skills. One thing I love to do, is talk to people. But I have yet to feel comfortable doing it with a mic in my face, or even experience it for that matter. Hopefully you'll be hearing me soon.

I eventually want to post the odd movie here...you know...less like a vacation video and more like a here have a look and listen to the music that goes with it. But I have heard more than once, talk less, do more. So. Here is where I shut up.

I'll leave you with this. I was introduced to these guys (not actually) by Jesse, my boss, the other day. I give you iNternets Celebrities.

Dispatches from South Lucas & 7th.

Day One: Get down, lay down.

Sunday June 1st: Atlanta to L.A.

Today was full of surprises. Not one of them was good.

I arrived at The Commodore (my home for the next three months) on S. Lucas Avenue in Los Angeles, California to glorious weather. The building is eleven stories high and contains many more tales than that. I am just another number.

The lemon yellow sun hung in a cloudless sky, casting a long shadow on the entrance of the building. I walked past a rough looking character smoking a cigarette. I was invisible to him. Above the buzzer was a sign that read “Affordable housing available”. I looked back at the guy, who was now looking back at me.

After a quick phone call, Dennis the landlord came to greet me. He was at once cheerful and welcoming. He informed me of a few minor boring details and took me on a tour. First stop was the laundry room. After pointing out the change machine and various vending machines he told me that I didn’t have to worry about my clothes, “The camera’s are on 24 hours a day, it’s very secure” he said. That was ok, I thought. Next stop was the elevators. “Your key card-,” oh yeah, I was given a key card, “must be swiped before you push your floor, you cannot go to any other floor than your own, it’s very secure” he said again. Now I wondered, is it a really safe building, or a really shitty area? Or is it both?

The building looks pretty good, I have to admit. My initial fears were quickly quashed. We stood outside my room as Dennis fiddled with the keys. There was barely enough time for me to anticipate what lay beyond the door. Before I knew it, he swung the door open. I didn’t take a step. I was expecting some gaudy furniture in a small room. I got the small room part right, but there was not a single piece of furniture. For weeks before hand, I thought the apartment was furnished. “I am paying 800 bucks a month to squat?!” I thought to myself.

“So, the rooms aren’t furnished?” I asked. “Oh…oh, no.” Dennis suddenly realized what I was getting at. “Sorry.”

After the initial disappointment wore off, things didn’t seem so bad. The room was more than clean. Fresh paint, new carpet and linoleum and a decent sized bathroom with a kitchenette seemed to make everything a little better.

I walked around the new neighborhood and tried to wrap my head around where I was living for the next three months. I couldn’t, so I bought groceries instead.

The first thing I bought, I am altogether sad and excited to say, was a box of Cocoa Pebbles. In my short sightedness, and still reeling from the furniture debacle, I forgot plastic utensils. Too far (and too lazy) to turn back, I continued home.

I stood over the sink, thinking about the shit sleep ahead of me, while eating Cocoa Pebbles with my hands. That was dinner my first night in L.A.

The dinner and sleeping conditions joined forces and brought me the worst nightmares I have had in years. Cockroaches and money worries. Jesus H. Christ. Scary shit, right? Half awake I saw critters scurrying about. Half asleep I wondered how the fuck I was going to pay my bills. Someone should make a movie about that shit. Hey wait a minute…