You make another person's death about you. You're not supposed to do that, but you do it anyway because you're a person. You can set about tending to the needs of the deceased's most bereaved friends or family members, and that'
I think about how, 25 years ago, when I was writing down notes and stories that would eventually become a book about living on this block in this city, there was more action. More yelling. More loud music. More chaos. This has been replaced, largely, by the sounds of construction
While Alonso and I were in Nashville this past weekend for a Duralde family wedding, I learned of an unexpected death on my side of the family. I'm posting this here so nobody wonders why there's nothing in their inbox. I'll be back soon.
Before I was diagnosed with two hips' worth of advanced arthritis, I just thought I had fat-dude back trouble. It was COVID lockdown, and I bought this useless item called The Scoop. It promised to loosen up my tight core, or tighten up my weak core. One of those.
Hell0, I have a cold. Taking a little break. I'll write when my Nyquil hangover subsides. Send a wellness influencer to my door so I can cough on them.
I was very nervous. It was late summer, 2004. She had re-recorded "Every Man Has a Woman Who Loves Him," a song she wrote and sang on the Double Fantasy album with her husband John Lennon. The new version was called "Everyman... Everywoman" and it was
See that wonderful old building? It's a Taco Bell Cantina. It came up in 1917 on Hollywood Boulevard, the facade in the Churrigueresque style, and it once was the Pickwick Book Shop. Marlene Dietrich shopped there. That no one decided to demolish it entirely or simply obscure the
This is a note to the dude with the sign. Your sign said, "LET ME EAT THAT ASS." You were standing outside the Mobil station on Santa Monica Boulevard. It was about 5pm on Wednesday afternoon. The sign was cardboard. About 12 inches tall and 15 inches wide.
I am aware that the demented, racist President said even more demented, racist things last night, and that he wants to make banks freeze accounts of people who can't show their papers. I am aware that Pete Hegseth wants unrestrained AI to drop nuclear bombs on anyone, anywhere,
I remember almost nothing except for isolated moments of a Vincente Minnelli film called The Cobweb about the battle over the design of some draperies in a psychiatric hospital, and a 2am Tupperware promotional short from 1965 featuring Anita Bryant before she lost her mind with hate for gays. (Fun
My mother did not want any arthouse shit. "La Belle Noiseuse," I said. "It's French." "Subtitles? Ehhhhhhh." "It's also four hours." "No." This was the early 90s, by the way. And this was not a simple
Paul told Margy, who told me and Alonso. When she said what it was, we said, "We will try this and probably like it." I had never heard of it, which is weird because if it's processed and against the law in Europe, I've