Wednesday, December 31, 2008
2008 will be one second longer than usual, thanks to the fellows at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, UK - the place that Greenwich Mean Time is named after. Due to the minute slowing of the earth's rotation over time, a "leap second" will be added just at midnight tonight.
Isn't it wonderful? What will you do with your extra second? I'm going to linger just a little longer as I kiss my sweetie when the New Year is rung in.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Write a story about this guy. Or a poem. Or a rumination. Give him some background, some context.
Here's my story:
His sister called him Uncle Willie, the way her boys did. He liked being an Uncle and living in the downstairs bedroom at her house now that their Mother had died. The little boy James was quick to hug and quick to run away. The older one Charles was quieter, but Willie remembered the day long ago when he was born and his sister showed him the little face in the bundle of flannel. He had been surprised, amazed that such a warm, alive creature had come from her swelled tummy.Charles was bigger now and sometimes let him play basketball when his friends came over, as they threw the ball at the hoop over the garage door. He was taller than they and could make foul shots from the line, but when the boys ran so quickly around him, he couldn't hold onto the ball.
Charles and his friends sometimes played tricks on him - keep-away with the ball or taking his hat. He once got mad and told Charles he wouldn't play with him anymore. He didn't mean to break the screen door but their laughter hurt his ears.
His sister told him to come inside and watch "The Jetsons" with James. She gave them chips and a coke, then went out to the driveway and he heard her voice talking sternly to Charles.
"It isn't fair to tease Uncle Willie," she said. "Charles, you should know better than that. I'm disappointed in you."
The boys' voices rose and fell and laughed and Willie's sister's voice clamored higher, scolding them, and then the screen door slammed and she came back into the kitchen. She inspected the split screen, lifting the drooping rubber string that his fist had forced from the track, and she sighed.
"Ah come on guys, let's get outa here. This is lame, playing with a retard," a voice rose beyond from the driveway. Willie ate a dorito while George Jetson ran on the treadmill. Petey was his name, the one who'd pulled his Dodgers cap off and thrown it under the car.
"Don't call him that," said Charles. "Anyway, you're not so smart, you can't even do that math homework unless I help."
"I don't need your help, smartass. Jeez, you got them eyebrows, like Frankenstein, just like your Uncle."
"Fuck you, Petey, get outa here!" Charles' voice shrilled now. "Go on home, get your sister to help you with your math. Get your dad, if you think he's so smart."
"I'm going, I'm going. Frankenstein." Laughter.
The door slapped again. Charles' footsteps thumped as he ran fast up the carpeted stairs, and the bedroom door slammed.
Willie's sister said, "Charles, have you done your geometry yet? Charles?" She started to climb the stairs.
Willie wondered if Charles were crying. He had heard Charles cry sometimes before, when the door to his room was closed. He waited for his sister to come back.
"Look, Uncle Willie," said James, nudging him. "I can bite my Dorito into a star! See?" He held it up. "Can you?"
Willie reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of chips and crunched them loudly. The taste of salt filled his mouth.
Monday, December 29, 2008
I was walking down Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice and here was this door. Between two storefront bungalows, a vermillion-colored door, flanked by neatly trimmed shrubs, overhung by blossoming vines and a lemon tree in full fruit.
The New Year beckons. What's beyond? We could find anything behind that door. All we have to do is open it. Do we dare? Of course we do.
Open the door.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
We decided to take a trip to Artesia, a little community in the south western part of Los Angeles County known as "Little India."
I had a rose-flavored falooda. Here's what it looked like - the little bits are the takmaria. What it tasted like was amazing! Sweet and intense and the flavor of rosewater. Like another Asian drink, Boba, it was fun to suck the ingredients up through a straw, although the little noodles were sometimes disconcerting, dripping on my chin so I had to slurp them up like errant spaghetti.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
This holiday season, I bought a dozen florists' cyclamen to decorate my table for a buffet. Cyclamen, with their curiously-shaped noding flowers that rise up over prettily patterned leaves are strikingly decorative and elegant.
I've written before about my family's tendancy to plunge enthusiastically into hobbies and interests. Hooked on this charming genus, I joined the Cyclamen Society and soon was signing up for the seed exchange.
It's particularly rewarding when you finally see the blooms of a plant that is more challenging to grow from seed. Bulbs and tuberous plants take a while to germinate, and a while to come to flowering size - but when one you've grown finally blooms, it's very rewarding.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Orson Welles' 1958 film "A Touch of Evil" begins with a close-up of a man setting the timer on a bomb. The camera pulls back to show a long columned arcade, and then the man plants the bomb in the trunk of a sleek convertible. A man and woman, laughing and embracing, get into the convertible and cruise down a crowded night-time street in a Mexican border town.
This shot, about four minutes long, was filmed as one long tracking shot, and is praised by film critics as one of the most amazing pieces of cinematography in film. The car drives through the crowded streets, passing the shabby arcades with their old-fashioned columns. As it stops for traffic cops, pushcart vendors, and herds of goats, we wonder - when will it explode? who will it kill? The introduction of the film's hero and his new bride, walking along the slowly cruising car and standing beside it as they clear the border crossing, heightens the suspense.
Orson Welles used Windward Avenue in Venice, California as the location for this shoot. The car passes the columned hotels and liquor stores on the north side of Windward, then turns onto Ocean Front Walk, passing what is now the Sidewalk Cafe, and the remains of the Mecca Cafe - by then a bingo parlour.
It was not a stretch to transform it into a sleazy border town. By 1958, Venice had fallen on hard times.
The decline had begun years ago. Abbot Kinney's control over the design and cultural life of the town was broken with his death in 1920, and in 1925 when the citizens voted to become part of the City of Los Angeles.
As many writers have observed, it was akin to annexing Disneyland. Venetians didn't realize that control from downtown wouldn't always have their best interests at heart. In 1929, Los Angeles decided that the canals were hard to maintain and obsolete in the age of the automobile. A huge public works project was begun to fill them in and pave them over. The lagoon and the canals to the north were filled in, but the Depression halted the project before it could reach the canals south of Venice Boulevard - the poorer neighborhood, once tent cities and then simple bungalows and shacks.
Another unintended effect of annexation was the City's conservative ordinances that shut down dancing on Sundays, hurting business on the Pier and along the boardwalk. Venice citizens had to petition for an exception for them, as an Amusement District. Venice became the home of many varieties of amusement - some not so family friendly. Prohibition, in effect since 1920 but enforced more rigorously by Los Angeles, hurt business. Gambling flourished, both on shore in back rooms and on gambling ships moored just beyond the 3-mile limit. It was said that the tunnels beneath Windward Avenue, intended for utility and water lines, were used to smuggle bootleg liquor.
In 1930 oil was discovered in the salt marshes in the southern part of Venice. Soon oil wells were going up in the midst of residential neighborhoods. With the oil came jobs, but also pollution and environmental hazards. These neighborhoods had been the poorer neighborhoods anyway, so few civic leaders cared about what happened there.
In 1933, when alcohol became legal again, the bars and cocktail lounges flourished. The off-shore gambling resorts became even more popular, with a high-class clientele. In the late 1930's a mobster named Tony Cornero brought customers with a fleet of water-taxis. He served good food, unwatered booze, hired top-class dance bands to play. He ran all the popular games, including roulette, craps, blackjack, poker, and chinese lottery.
In "Farewell My Lovely," written in 1940, Raymond Chandler's sleuth Philip Marlowe bunks in a seaside hotel, and waits until dark to take a water taxi out to a gambling ship.
The reflection of a red neon light glared on the ceiling. When it made the whole room red it would be dark enough to go out. Outside cars honked along the alley they called the Speedway. Feet slithered on the sidewalks below my window. There was a murmur and mutter of coming and going in the air. The air that seeped in through the rusted screens smelled of stale frying fat. Far off a voice of the kind that could be heard far off was shouting: "Get hungry, folks. Get hungry. Nice hot doggies here. Get hungry."Marlowe's hotel may have been the once-fine St. Mark's Hotel:
There was no elevator. The hallways smelled and the stairs had grimed rails. I went down them, threw the key on the desk and said I was through. A clerk with a wart on his left eyelid nodded and a Mexican bellhop in a frayed uniform coat came from behind the dustiest rubber plant in California to take my bag. I didn't have a bag...Marlowe goes out to find the water taxi, and describes the scene on Ocean Front Walk:
Outside the narrow streets fumed, the sidewalks squirmed with fat stomachs. Across the street a bingo parlor was going full blast and beside it a couple of sailors with girls were coming out of a photographer's shop where they had probably been having their photos taken riding camels. The voice of the hot dog merchant split the dusk like an axe. A big blue bus blared down the street to the little circle where the streetcar used to run on a turntable. I walked that way.With the coming of the war, the aircraft industry drew workers from all over the US to Southern California. Curfews prohibited any activity on piers and beaches after dark, but servicemen on leave and factory workers came to sample Venice's increasingly seedy attractions.
After the war, the City of Los Angeles chose not to renew the lease on Abbott Kinney's pier. A master plan was implmented with the intent of removing all beach piers and widening the beaches. In 1946, the Venice Pier was torn down. No trace of it remains today.
The fine hotels had become flophouses. Amusement arcades turned into peep shows and bingo parlors. Resident poet Lawrence Lipton described Venice as "a jerry-built slum by the sea."
The City's building inspectors harassed Venice property owners on code violations. Costly Upgrades were mandated. Many owners chose to demolish instead.
Some Windward Avenue buildings lost their upper stories, leaving only the arcaded first floors. All the buildings on the seaqard side were demolished. In 1964, St. Mark's Hotel, anchoring the northwest corner of Windward and Ocean Front Walk, was torn down.
In 1959 the Bingo parlor became a coffee shop called the Gas House. Hell's Angels parked their motercycles under the arched colonnades of Abbot Kinney's Venetian replicas. Homeless people, drug addicts and, later, hippies hung out on Ocean Front Walk.
The theatres, the dance halls, the rides were gone. The remaining buildings housed sleazy concessions - fast food stands, T-shirt dealers, head shops.
But things would change again. Things always do.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Red Rock is a wonderful place to take a hike on a bright clear winter's day.
Have a wonderful holiday, everyone.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
It's a song set in the '80s, during the period when young Irish men and women immigrated to New York City to find their fortunes. I mean the 1980s - the Irish recession of 1980 - 1985 spurred a new wave of immigrants to the United States. These migrants were educated professionals - accountants, medical technicians, doctors and engineers, unable to find work in the bad economy at home.
The song is a duet between two lovers who've been defeated by life's hardships, yet remember the exhilaration of being young and in love in New York at Christmas time.
Shane: "I could have been someone"It has one of the best opening lines of any Christmas song. If you haven't already played it, go listen.
Kirsty: "Well, so could anyone. You took my dreams from me when I first found you."
Shane: "I kept them with me babe, I packed them with my own. Can't make it out alone, I built my dreams around you."
There's another line, though, that for me holds a lot of meaning. It reminds me of another Christmas Eve in New York City, around that same time. The line goes:
"We kissed on the corner and danced through the night."It's one of the reasons I love this song. I wrote a short story about two lovers in New York, at Christmas Eve, during the 1970s.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
You slide into the embrace of a red vinyl booth, and relax. The waitress brings your drinks.
The cocktail napkins are politically incorrect.
Here's how they serve the martini olives.
The food is good old American classic. The steaks are pretty good, and so's the seafood. Garlic mashed potatoes and spinach round out a fine meal. It's always good to eat seafood in a restaurant that features portholes for windows.
It was something to see. The pier included a vast auditorium and a fine restaurant built to look like a sailing ship. The business district's buildings were modeled after those in the Plaza San Marco, with arched colonnades linking each building. The columns' elaborate capitals were ornamented with carved acanthus leaves and the face of a classic beauty - the model, in reality, was a local girl named Nettie Bouck.
As the 1920s progressed, Venice thrived as an entertainment destination, even despite Prohibition, which outlawed alcohol. Venice was a popular destination for both tourists and local residents. Special events were held on the pier and along the beach, including bathing beauty contests, parades, road races, animal acts, and dance marathons.
Monday, December 22, 2008
This is Rae's coffee shop on Pico Boulevard in Santa Monica, seen through a rainy window.
Stay warm and dry, everybody.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
pink things everywhere you look. On a narrow street in the Oakwood neighborhood of Venice, I brought my car to a halt in front of this incredible mural on a plain concrete wall.
His work is exhibited at galleries, but he also creates items that you can collect, including vinyl toys, T-shirts, posters, and prints. Get them while they're available, though, because they are limited editions. I adore these ice cream toys (go to link and scroll down to the fifth item), but they are sold out.
Hats and T-shirts are still available. The hats are the perfect pink-lover's gift!