)
)
)
Since I’m not going to be around much of the holidays I’m opting out of the tree thing this year. But, I did get the whole experience of getting sap on my hands and needles in my pants by riding shotgun on the tree hunt with Jill.
Oh Neko. Oh lovely, lovely Neko. She’s back with a west coast tour with a whole band this time. Although there were some minor technical problems, i.e. broken strings, a couple false starts on songs, a tambourine that she had to run upstairs to retrieve, occasional flat singing, long guitar tunings between songs, etc. it’s always great to hear her fire up the vocals. She was a little loud in the mix compared to the band but she’s swimming in reverb anyway so it’s all good. Keith and Shelli came by for dinner in North Beach and watched the show for a bit but after a big pasta dinner they were yawning non-stop. It was a school night for them anyway, but not for me. As she came out she said, “be careful with me because I’m a blood pinata”, referring to her current menstrual status. One of many things that flung out of her mouth tonight. She opened with Favorite and closed with Loretta. The band played the Benny Hill theme a few times while Neko tuned or ran upstairs to fetch her tambourine. All the new material sounded great and she almost played the new album in its entirety. Setlist included: If You Knew, Soulful Shade of Blue, Hex, Train From Kansas City, The Tigers Have Spoken, Maybe Sparrow, Blacklisted, Favorite, Rated X, Outro With Bees, Make Your Bed, Furnace Room Lullaby, Loretta, a couple of new numbers and John the Baptist. Next up, the Los Angeles show at the El Rey Saturday night. I need an intervention. Wait, no I don’t.
I was a bored this afternoon so I went to Alcatraz and shot one photo. It’s called “Blow Your Horn Mark”. Thank you. Goodnight.
)
The tragic heroine of San Francisco’s most famous love story, was born and raised on the Presidio. In 1806, when Concepcion Arguello was 15 years old, a seasoned Russian diplomat, Nikolai Rezanof, arrived in San Francisco Bay seeking aid for the starving Russian colony in Sitka, Alaska. As comandante of the Presidio, Concepcion’s father entertained him with the best Hispanic hospitality, despite well-justified suspicions of Russian intentions. Completely green in the ways of the politic world, Concepcion fell in love with the Russian, who in turn proposed marriage. Before sailing through the Golden Gate with his hard-won supplies, he reminded her that since he was Russian Orthodox and she a Roman Catholic, he would have to get permission from both the czar and the pope. The journey, he noted would take years, but Concepcion said she would wait.
Rezanof never returned. In time, Concepcion retired to a Domincan convent, disavowing all connection to the outside world, and burying her her sorrow beneath decades of silence and daily ritual. Then one day came bittersweet news: her fiance had not abandoned her. He had frozen to death in the snows of Siberia some 40 years before, enroute to petition the czar. Concepcion died in 1857 and is buried in Saint Dominic’s Cemetery in Benicia. Her gravestone, carved with the name Sister Mary Dominica is at the end of the second row. A larger monument for her stands besides it.
I really love this story, and there’s even a great poem about it from Bret Harte, but come on 40 years?! I think I would have moved on by then.
Um, don’t forget your gloves when you go to Yosemite in the winter. It won’t matter if you’re completely prepared on all other fronts. In fact naked with nothing but gloves and boots on might be more bearable. Anyway, an early freeze hit most of Northern California this week and everything iced over leaving ice waterfalls and leaves stuck below the lake ice like the bodies in those bad horror movies. Bridel Veil falls had all this ice on it and occasionally huge chunks would come crashing down and you could hear it echo through the valley. That gets a bitchin’ thumbs up. Last time I was in Yosemite it was a 107 degrees and miserable. People actually burst into flames that time. I swear. I saw it with my own eyes. What started as a 1.5 mile hike up to Mirror Lake turned into a 6-7 mile hike as I took the wrong path on the way back and ended up in Katmandu. I swear. There were sherpas and everything. Eventually I got back to the car and could only get to Santa Nella before I got tired. Besides, the Motel 6 in Santa Nella is only $39.99 a night! Yee har. That includes a window view of Highway 5 from only about, say, 100 feet or so. There’s something very relaxing about the white (frightliner) noise generated by a steady stream of 18 wheelers barreling down the highway. They really could charge more for those rooms. I could barely hear The Apprentice on TV.
City Souffle. The ingredients: A Saturday night jam with fellow insurgents Keith and Shelli in Oakland. A Sunday viewing of Polar Express in IMAX 3D with friends from all corners of my life at the Metreon. And an “on a whim” stay at a hotel Sunday night in North Beach. Occasionally while travelling you come across a little gem of a hotel or site to see and you’re reluctant to share as the secret will get out. Pssst… The Hotel San Remo [LINK] has a little bungalow, um er, penthouse suite [LINK], on top of the main hotel and overlooks the north of North Beach. And you can stay there! At night you can hear the faint sounds of the city such as the dinging of the bells on the cable cars, the white noise of traffic, the barking of seals all the way down at Pier 39. Yet, oddly it’s all very far away sounding and not enough to disturb your rooftop hideaway. The room comes with it’s own copper fitted bathroom, claw-footed bathtub, TV, a deck with lots of lounges and chairs for guests, views of Coit Tower and kinda of the Golden Gate Bridge, and NO telephone. Since the main hotel is more like a European Pension all of these are actually luxuries. It’s location is walking distance to North Beach, one street away from the end of the Powell-Mason cable car line and a block from Bimbo’s 365. It’s pretty easy to book during the week, but book the weekend far far in advance. Nice place to wake up this morning. Ok, there’s the traveller tip of the day. Have a look…
A month in Australia and boy am I bushed. Get it? No? Damn. 1200 photos, one dead bird, 15 bites of various kinds, a tiger snake encounter, a diviner, waterfalls, and a very confused Vespa scooter now named Shemale. Melbourne still to come. It’s done.
“My dad never referred to it as a Gibson guitar or Fender guitar… it was always that goddamn guitar.” – Bruce Springsteen
A parents worst nightmare is when their kid asks for a guitar. Most kids growing up in the 60’s and 70’s usually wanted one of two guitars, a Gibson Les Paul, or a Fender Stratocaster. I, of course, always wanted a Les Paul because Jimmy Page played one, but I also wanted a Telecaster because Springsteen played one. I now own one of each. Last week fellow “Polar Express” and “Dinosaur” surviver Bau asked if I’d be interested in a tour of the Fender guitar factory in Corona. Hell yeah! He won the tour while visiting the Fender Museum. So, today, we headed out to beautiful Corona and met Steve Grom, who is VP Corporate Quality Assurance, and got to see the manufacturing process and the Fender Custom Shop. It was pretty damn cool.
Choose whаt tуре оf guіtаr you wаnt
Decide if уоu want аn асоuѕtіс оr еlесtrіс guitar. Acoustics аrе grеаt tо learn on. No fancy bells аnd whіѕtlеѕ. And іf уоu’rе gоіng tо hаvе lеѕѕоnѕ, you’ll fосuѕ on how tо sound аѕ сlеаr аnd рrесіѕе as possible whеn уоu рlау. Yоu саn аlѕо сhооѕе bеtwееn a сlаѕѕіс nуlоn-ѕtrіngеd асоuѕtіс which іѕ ԛuіеtеr and lеѕѕ dеmаndіng to рlау, or a ѕtееl-ѕtrіngеd асоuѕtіс that’s lоudеr but tougher on beginner’s fіngеrѕ.
Many brіllіаnt and fаmоuѕ guitarists ѕtаrtеd wіth an еlесtrіс, simply bесаuѕе іt was what thеу were іntеrеѕtеd іn. There’s mоrе vаrіеtу іn sound, looks аnd рlауіng ѕtуlеѕ. But аgаіn, like steel-stringed асоuѕtісѕ, thеу mау be рunіѕhіng on un-саlluѕеd fіngеrѕ.
Thеrе іѕ nо right оr wrong wау tо start hеrе. Lооk аt guіtаrіѕtѕ from thе gеnrе оf muѕіс уоu wаnt tо рlау tо gеt аn іdеа оf whаt guitars thеу uѕе. Just make sure to use a guitar center coupon when buying it, this way you’ll get a good discount!
It’s a wrap! Ha! See what I did there? It’s a wrap, like gifts or presents at Christmas… and the movie wrapped? Anyone, hello? This stuff isn’t easy, ya know. As of half an hour ago, Saturday October 2nd, 10:30pm, I put my last shot on The Polar Express [LINK] to film. Done. A few 13 hour days this week and I’m officially sick of Christmas for the next few years. I think I’ll sit them out. Only 38 days away from opening in IMAX 3D [LINK] in true stereoscopic or your regular boring theaters. This game is annoyingly hard…
Took the new toy [LINK] out for a spin at the Abbot Kinney Street Festival. After walking the couple miles up and down Abbott Kinney Blvd., that festival sucks. There was nothing even close to worth buying. I did see a girl from one of the classes I helped teach at Silicon Graphics selling hula hoops. Another success story! She was nicknamed “Psycho (insert name)” because she was a little, um, different. From what I can tell, she’s been working on her tan and her body. Well hello there…
)
)
)
)
)
About a year ago Imageworks moved a handful of artists out to a new building behind the main one. Dubbed “The Cornfield”, as the artists felt they were being sent to the cornfield [LINK]. On the bright side they have a patio and tree lined area where they can have a bar-b-cue and enjoy the outdoors. Ya know, kinda like a cornfield.
)
13th Annual Inkslingers Ball [LINK] Funny thing. I don’t really like a tattoos. I do not like them on people, I do not like them on steeples, Sam I am. I do like the whole culture behind it though. I think it’s fascinating. They start to look ugly on skin after a few years, but I still like the art of it all. This is all a ruse really and I’m not getting one because I’m a pussy. At least a piercing is a one time thing. The thought of a tattoo needle going in and out for a couple hours makes me cringe. Again, because I’m a pussy.
)
)
Every year there’s the family party down at Dana Point Harbor. Coinciding with me getting older and the end of summer. For years there was never any kids at these things. Now it’s come full circle and the next generation of kids are attending. I’m not sure I like kids all that much, they’re so dang noisy. Smoke + Trees + Sun = Cool photo.
The L.A. County Museum had an outdoor screening of Willy Wonka tonight and of course Wonka aficionado George was game for going. It quickly turned ugly when a Oompa Loompa started making the rounds. I actually kinda felt bad for them as this is either one of many Oompa Loompa gigs during the year or it’s the absolute last job you want to take as a dwarf or little person. Not midget, according to the P.C. guidebook. They even had games for the kids, one involving chasing down the Ooopa Loompa. So sad. Not sad enough to not get the requisite photo with the orange bugger. I’d be an angry dwarf if all the roles I were offered were leprecauns, munchkins, ewoks, Ooopa Loompas, a Santa’s elves, hobbits, etc. All the more reason to see “The Station Agent” [LINK].
El Coyote Cafe on Beverly Boulevard has been serving Mexican food since 1931. On August 8, 1969, Jay Sebring made an 8 o’clock dinner reservation for Abigail Folger, Wojciech Frykowski, Sharon Tate, and himself. After waiting 15 minutes in the bar, the four were seated and unknowingly ate their last meals, leaving at around 9:45pm, heading back to Cielo Drive. The four returned back to the Roman Polanski estate, Wojciech fell asleep on the living room couch, Abigail retired to her bedroom to read a book, while Jay sat and talked with Sharon in her bedroom.
Shortly after midnight, Susan Atkins passed by Abigail’s bedroom, Abigail smiled and waved thinking Atkins was someone’s friend. A few minutes later Susan came into the room showing her buck knife and instructed Abigail to go into the living room. Wojciech was awoken by the voice of Charles “Tex” Watson. Frykowski, barely awake, asked him what time it was and Watson replied by kicking him in the head. Even more confused, Wojciech inquired, “Who are you?” Watson answered, “I’m the devil and I’m here to do the devil’s business.”
Susan Atkins entered Sharon Tate’s bedroom with a buck knife in hand, she instructed Sharon and Jay to come into the living room. There, Charles “Tex” Watson tied a rope around Jay’s neck, looped it over the ceiling beam, and then tied it around Sharon’s neck. Sebring argued with Watson over Sharon having to be in such an uncomfortable position considering she was 8 ?Ǭ? months pregnant. Watson immediately shot Sebring, kicking him several times while he lay bleeding to death on the floor. Chaos ensued and Wojciech freed himself while Patricia Krenwinkel and Abigail began wrestling. After being stabbed multiple times Abigail broke free and ran down the hallway in an effort to escape. Krenwinkel followed with an upraised knife, finally tackling her on the lawn just outside Sharon Tate’s bedroom. Krenwinkel continued to stab her until Tex Watson came over to help. According to her killers, Abigail lifelessly pled for them to stop stabbing saying, “I give up, you’ve got me”, and “I’m already dead”.
Still tied up, Sharon sobbed and pled with the killers to let her have her baby. After all the others were killed, Watson and Atkins stabbed Sharon to death, as she cried out for her mother.
Yuck.
At the beginning of the year I was reading the above timeline of the events of the Manson murders. I’d come across it on the web. There was that part about El Coyote restaurant. I never knew my neighborhood restaurant had such a notorious connection. I told neighbor Rachel this and we had the grand plan to visit the old El Coyote Cafe for some Margarita’s and food on August 8th. Ya know just to see if any “shady characters” would show up. I can now report that it was just a normal Sunday evening and we were the only shady characters there. The Margarita’s are still very good. When asked for a name by the host at the door I looked over at Rachel and almost blurted out “Sharon”. I would have bet money that there would have been a party of 4, for the El Coyote Cafe, 8:45 under the name Sharon. Anybody in for next year??
Out my window at work sits this little hummingbird. I noticed him a few months ago. They’re very territorial so he chases off other birds fairly frequently. He always sits on that one branch no matter how windy.
Spanning the last century, two films are currently causing a ruckus in Los Angeles. One made in 1915 and one to be released this month. The Silent Movie Theater is no stranger to controversy, yet when you drag out the old film school standard of “Birth of a Nation” [LINK] prepare for a fight. I went to check it out as I skipped out of class that day oh so many years ago. Also to check out the hoopla. Didn’t get very far as it was once again met with protesters and the screening was stopped. [LINK] [LINK]
A hundred years later another film is causing a problem because of sex. The Brown Bunny [LINK] with Chloe Sevigny and Vincent Gallo. You’re just asking for trouble when you put a billboard up showing a blow job and saying “In Color X Adults Only” [LINK]. The billboard’s a big white space now.
