9 posts tagged “life in l.a.”

I know I've been away for awhile, but I don't have the energy to 'splain what I've been up to.  Maybe tomorrow.  Okay, probably not tomorrow either.  Stop pressuring me.

Anyway, I just stopped by to fly the flag of equality.  Take a gander at this headline ...

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CALIFORNIA'S TOP COURT ISSUES HISTORIC RULING IN SUPPORT OF GAY MARRIAGE!

Thursday May 15, 2008 -- Today, California's top court issued an historic ruling in support of gay marriage. "We are thrilled by this amazing victory that ensures deserving legal equality for ALL Californians." said Rodney Scott, President of Christopher Street West, producer of Los Angeles LGBT PRIDE.
 
As written by Chief Justice Ron George for the court's majority, "Our state now recognizes that an individual's capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual's sexual orientation."

For more on this story: see NYT here

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That's right.  Cali's the second state in the Union to officially recognize same-sex marriage.  I wonder what affect this news will have on this weekend's Pride parade down in Long Beach.  I'm actually going to try and attend this year, thanks to a suggestion from a chica over on LJ.  The parade's on Sunday morning, but instead of driving down to LBC and spending a shockingly large amount of gas -- we're up to $3.85 per gallon here in VN -- I'm heading down on the subway.  I still haven't planned my entire trip yet, but essentially, I'm gonna hop on the blue line, watch the parade, browse the boulevard, meet up with a buddy for lunch, then ride the rail back to the Valley.  :-)  I'm really looking forward to it.

Of course, I plan to take photos, but you know me.  I probably won't post them until September.  :-P

Oops.  Last week, I meant to post a little shout-out and free advertising to my buddy, Sebastian, and his next gig, but I procrastinated and here we are.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned him here before, but Seb's an actor-guy that I met at my-job-before-my-last-job.  (Hope that makes sense.)  I call him "actor-guy" because he's one of the first, and believe it or not, few L.A. transplants I've met who actually came out to La-La-Land to take a shot at this crazy business called show.  I guess I was expecting to meet a lot more wannabe actors when I came out here, but I think I've met far more people who want to work behind-the-scenes than in front of the camera.

Anyway, actor-guy recently joined/was accepted under duress by the Theatre Unleashed group to come and frolick upon the stage for the amusement and bemusement of others.  Look it up if you don't know what it means.  And Theatre Unleashed is putting on a show tonight over at the M Bar in Hollywood.  I've never been to the M Bar, and when I tried to call and make reservations, they returned my voicemail with some confusing directions on reserving a table for up to 7 people.  Hmmm.  Weird.

So, I don't know if I'll even be able to get in to see the show.  This is one of the many reasons why I don't like talking to people for the sake of purchasing something.  Don't even get me started on my strict avoidance of Farmers Markets.  A couple of Seb's other buddies are going to be there, so hopefully if the doorman gives me any trouble, I can snag a chair at their table.  Wish me luck.  Well, I guess it would be better to wish him luck.  :-)  The show starts at 8pm, so I'm leaving work around 6:30pm to beat the traffic and find a parking spot.  Here's hoping it goes off without a hitch.

Oh yeah, btw.  Theatre Unleashed put up a few YouTube commercials to advertise the show, and Sebastian is featured in one of them.  That's him pontificating on the wonders of poetry.  Yep, he's a doofus.  I like his scream at the end.  So very girly.

I realized I haven't posted in a while about my various life-related comings and goings, and I know that many of you have felt that your lives have lost all meaning during that time.  Well, have no fear, I'm back to regale you with wondrous tales of my adventures.

Okay, I may have built this up a bit too much.  Sorry.

Hmm, let's see.  What have I been up to that isn't birthday related?  Well, I've been spending money like crazy, and now I fear that as I enter the month of April, I'll be dining on spam, pork rinds, and Ramen noodles until things plateau again and I get back on budget.  Although, I haven't been completely frivolous.  I went ahead and filed my taxes at the end of February (All by myself for the first time!  Yay me.), so much of that money I spent was tax refund dosh.  Otherwise, I'd be in serious trouble right now.  As opposed to slightly serious, mildly sardonic trouble.

It sucks that most of that money is already gone, but I'm happy it was there to take care of the things on my Must-Do list.  Such as?  Car drama A: Smog check #1, smog check failure led to diagnostic exam from janky mechanic who told me that both of my catalytic converters were shot (yes, I have 2) and would cost $840 (front) and $975 (rear) to replace, second diagnostic a week later from a different mechanic revealed I only needed a major tune-up, not a new cat-converter, paid $175 for the tune-up, and passed smog check #2.

Handing Over the Car Keys

But wait, there's more.  Car drama B: Studied for CA written driver's test, gathered documents for registration, ignored boss's asshat behavior regarding taking time off during a busy shipping schedule, prepared backup story to address any evidence as to why I've lived in L.A. for almost 4 years, but am only now getting my CA driver's license and car registered, crossed fingers, said a prayer, dealt with a motley crew of not-so-interesting sitcoms personalities for 2-1/2 hours, passed driver's test, received license plates, and left the DMV 5 minutes before 5pm on the Friday before my Indiana driver's license expired on Tuesday.

And breathe.

Update: I received my driver's license in the mail last Thursday. Why does Califas mail them instead of giving them to you at the DMV like most states, I do not know.  Always have to be special, doncha?  I hate the photo.  I've never hated my license photo before.  I don't photograph well anyway, so I don't ever expect much.  And so far, there wasn't anything horribly grotesque about my license photo before, so I felt lucky.  Until now.  For some reason, I look freakishly orange against the blue background.  I swear I look like a member of the George Hamilton Excessive Tanning Society.  I've decided to continue carrying my Indiana DL and using it for ID purposes.  I don't need some smart-ass doorman asking me why I look like an Oompa Loompa.

Hmmm, what else? 

Oh, as a birthday gift/tax refund splurge, I bought a new cell phone.  My main objective was to get a better cell phone plan because I kept going over my minutes and crying uncle when the bill was due.  So that was more important than a new phone, but since I had the dough, I thought, "What the hey?"  I researched a few companies because T-Mobile is run by asstards, but none of the other company's plans and networks really suited me.  So I stuck with the asstards.

I bought the T-Mobile Shadow in copper.  Ta. Da.  Not bad, 'eh?  Yes, it's T-Mobile sad answer to the iPhone, but I kind of like it.  Although I use a Mac at home and my 3rd gen iPod nano is freakin' adorable, I have no interest in owning an iPhone, or more importantly, I have no interest in paying $400 for iPhone.  The Shadow does a lot of the same things as the iPhone, but for a third of the cost.  Now, this would be a huge boon if I had a PC and could actually use some of the features that they both share.  But I don't, and honestly, I probably wouldn't even use most of those features if I had a PC.  When did I become important enough to need access to my e-mail at all times?  Who am I, Spielberg?

More than likely, I'll use my Shadow for the phone (bluetooth & headset), text/picture messaging, digital camera, video camera, and mini-address book and calendar.  I could shell out an extra $20 per month to access e-mail, the Interweb, Yahoo Maps, send and receive MS Office docs to work on, and other unnecessary crap that I wouldn't make time to use, am not important enough to need, and couldn't be bothered to figure out if I did.  So yeah.  I have the option of using those features sometime in the future, but without the giant price tag of $400 hanging over my head to make me feel like a dingus if I don't.

Plus, the video capture function?  Fracking awesome.  Love it. 

I could've gotten a Blackberry, but I don't like having something that everyone else has.  And by everyone, I mean people with more discretionary income than I who can identify with almost every entry on Stuff White People Like.  The biggest drawback so far is that the online reviews about the battery are dead on.  The battery is one of the shortest I've ever seen in the history of cell/pda/wi-fi devices.  Seriously, I have to recharge this thing once every other day.  Boo.  Asstards, thy name is T-Mobile.

Other than those fascinating escapades, ladies and gents, I've just been sticking to my usual routine: work, dance, sleep, repeat.  Not that I mind, really.  Work's been draining, but not as horrible as it once was; dance has become more fulfilling now that I'm mixing it up with jazz and hip hop, and sleep ... well, sleep could use a little help.  I still have a long To-Do list, but until my money rights itself, I'll try to stick to things that don't require much cash.

Well, except for the next 4 weekends.  Oops.  I almost forgot.  This past Saturday, I kicked off about 4 weekends of busy-ness-ness.  Our lady in song, Ms. Madeline Wright debuted on the Don't Call Us Tori showcase this weekend at the Karma Coffeehouse in Hollywood.  I thought she had a pretty good turnout for a Saturday night.  I intended to arrive at 8pm for the whole show, but my head developed the beginnings of a migraine around 5pm, so I took some Excedrin TH and a nap.  Both helped, but they pushed me slightly off schedule.  Anywho, I showed up to quietly cheer the kid with a scooter and take photos of her shindig.  The photos are still on my desktop, but I'll shoot them over to Maddy this week so she can put them up on her site or blog if she wants.  The files are huge, unfortunately.  The ones I compressed came out really well (as seen here), but the others that I didn't compress before I sent them to my e-mail account are going to need a more skilled hand than mine to render them view-worthy.  I'll leave it to Madeline to work her magic.

Maddy performing at Karma

I thought she performed a good set.  My favorite number is "Pacific Tide," or as Chris would say, "The song dedicated to him and only him."  :-)  The only thing I would've changed is moving the second song to maybe the fourth or fifth song on the set.  After the cool opening ditty about your roommate, the new song you followed with kind of slowed down your momentum too soon.  Although, I did see folks stop typing on their laptops for your set, moreso than for the chica who went on before you.  So what do I know?

I, unfortunately, missed the SCB show on Thursday at the Hotel Cafe, but the guys have a gig down at The Troubadour on Santa Monica on Wednesday night.  I don't think they've ever performed there before, so you know I have to go and show 'em some love.  As for the weekend, the 6th is supposed to see me and Katrina and a small team of Sherpas driving up to Mt. Baldy for a wee bit of sightseeing and lunch.  Then, on Saturday, April 12th, I will be getting my geek on at Grand Slam in Burbank, where I will fawn over Michael Hurst and Kevin Sorbo on stage together for the first time since the 2000 Herc/Xena convention.

The following weekend, it's going to be me and Keisha at the SuperFest Hip Hop concert at the Gibson.  However, it's probably not a good idea to say that until I actually buy the tickets, which I haven't yet because I was waiting until I got paid on Monday.  ::ducks flying chair::  But here's hoping that stays on the calendar.  And if not, I can always try to console myself with cheap tickets to Chris Rock's No Apologies tour the following week.  Wait, wasn't I crying broke at the beginning of this post?

Anyway, I think that's enough of my wacky adventures and incessant tedium.  I need to get off of here and get back to work.  And by work, I mean reviewing this post for typos and then hitting enter.  :-)

I’ve been giving this whole writers’ strike issue some more thought lately. And no, it’s not because I’m currently going through a completely harmless, non-stalker-like, fan-related infatuation with Steven Weber. (NB: Weber has a fairly interesting sociopolitical blog over at the Huffington Post. He’s written some engaging entries about his perspective on the current strike. Check them out if you have a moment, but be forewarned: if you plan to read any of his other entries on politics, you might want to have a dictionary on standby.)

But I digress. My more recent obsession aside, I’ve been thinking a little bit about this whole strike thing, and some of the misguided notions the unsupportive public seems to have about the profession. Now, let me preface this by saying that although I am a professional editor and I have written and plan to write for a few farthings here and there in the future, I don’t consider myself a writer. Sure, my freelance business card says otherwise, but, in essence, I use the moniker because I know what the job entails, and I want to give the impression I’m up to the task. But to be frank, I’m not sure it’s a job I want.

When mulling over the whole ugliness that makes this strike necessary, I thought back to my experiences in high school and college that have led me to follow a career in publishing in the first place. I remembered writing and editing for the high school literary magazine. Digging through reams and reams of horrible love poems and angsty short stories on how “Death is the ultimate truth” to try and find something that was even slightly less depressing to balance out the therapy sessions already accepted for that year’s publication. I remembered writing for and sitting through my university creative writing courses listening to critiques on stories, plays, and poems I had written under duress because the class was supposed to be “good for me” as a writer. I remembered receiving the occasional verbal pat-on-the-back for some story or article that I had written for the campus newspaper that made someone laugh, smile, or look beyond their usual perspective to consider something they might not have otherwise.

And what did I remember most from this trek down memory lane? This: I hate writing. Okay, that’s harsh, but there’s some truth in that. Writing is f@$#ing hard! And the payoff doesn’t even remotely justify the amount of work—work being extremely fluctuating bouts of energy, stress, creativity, concentration, humility, anger, self-reflection, and more stress—that goes into producing a piece that others may or may not consider even worthy of reading.

There’s this ongoing joke in my family (namely, from my mother) about me writing the Great American Novel and becoming this insanely wealthy and internationally reknown author who manages to stay grounded just long enough to buy my mother that big house on a hill where she can spend the rest of her retirement smiling and waving to the neighbors from the front porch. You shush! This dream is the only thing keeping her from repeatedly asking me about the possibility of grandbabies. So I say, let her ‘lone.

But the sad reality is, I’m not cut out to be a real writer. Why? Because I know something that clearly many people who don’t support the strike do not: Writing is hard, thankless work with little hope of any truly fulfilling remuneration (to borrow a phrase from Mr. Weber’s post). No, I’m not interested in glory or celebrity or even effusive backslapping. I just like to be appreciated for a job well done. It sounds out there, I know, but it’s a simple vanity that I think most of us share. And if you’re in the writing game simply because you want to be the next Steven King, James Patterson, or Sandra Brown, you’re in for a world of disappointment. And the same applies for TV and film writers. A point that I think is lost on so many who seem to think the WGA consists of nothing but J.J. Abrams, Paul Haggis, and Aaron Sorkin.

Why is writing for film and television regarded as easy, slapdash, pick-a-plotline-out-of-a-jar, half-hour brainstorming sessions, but writing for a novel or magazine is not? What makes one seem so easy, while the other more soul wrenching? Because I’ve done both, allow me to share this.* While studying in London for a college term, I took a course that required the students to divide into groups and find an interesting, and hopefully unique, way of retelling one or several of Shakespeare’s plays to a nonacademic audience. My group decided to use the campus radio station and put on a short radio play centered around the absurd idea that Shakespeare’s reanimated corpse would be infuriated with the reinterpretations of his work in modern films and unpleasantly surprised that what he originally wrote at a time when theatre was on par with our current nightly television feast is now considered to be high art.

And let me tell you folks, writing a radio script to fill 20-minutes of air meant to entertain and, heaven forfend, educate was the hardest writing assignment I’ve ever had in my 16 years of public and private education. Granted, it was a hell of lot more fun than writing a paper on Faulkner’s social and philosophical commentary in Light in August, but it was hard work that pretty much came down to myself and another girl on my team trying to furiously pin down our thoughts into some kind of recognizable script. There were 6 of us working on this team, but she and I did most of the writing. And 90% of that “writing” looked a whole helluva lot like arguing, frustrated sighing, and a collective banging of our heads against the desks.

The end result was nice. Not great, but nice. The kids in our class liked it, and we earned more than a few kudos from the campus masses who caught it when it aired on the radio. But going back and listening to it (I think I kept the only final copy of the recording), I’m amazed that we managed to produce something so simple, yet entertaining, after all that stress and whining.

And this was one of the many instances that lead me toward my current perspective about writing, which is if you don’t love it more than anything, if you’re not pursuing it because it provides some level of self-satisfaction that you can’t receive from any other profession, don’t be a writer. And that’s why, for the most part, I respect TV and film writers and support the WGA strike. I’ve tried to do what they do, and I've learned that with the exception of a small few, it is a difficult and unglamorous profession. For every Bob & Alex (that’s Orci and Kurtzman to those who aren’t in the know), there must be at least thousands who will never see their work on the little or big screen. For every Jane Espenson, there are how many wannabees? For every writer we hoi polloi can actually name off the top of our heads, how many are there we’ll never know. And not because they aren’t trying, and certainly not because they aren’t talented. Writing in Hollywood is just like acting, producing, and directing in Hollywood; it’s a gamble. And you have to be incredibly devoted and incredibly insane to want to pursue it full time. No offense, Katrina.

Yes, I wish the number of people I’ve seen over in the wga_supporters community were this indignant and motivated about the Jena 6 controversy, the impenetrable military state of Burma, or the unlawful retention of suspects at Guantanamo Bay, but I won’t begrudge them their concern for what’s right. And if studios are making millions off of writers’ content, the writers receiving a fair cut of those profits is definitely an easy check in the “right” column.

I want the strike to end quickly just like the rest of the folks involved, but I certainly don’t want to see it end quickly because the writers gave over and let the greed of the studios win out. Right now, it doesn’t look like the studios plan to budge without some government or financial intervention. And since I don’t trust our Governor as far as I can throw him, I’m hoping that pressure on the advertising arms of major corporate sponsors sends the message to the studios that this needs to end today. Because, let’s face it, the suits aren’t going to listen to the writers or the actors or the teamsters. They’re going to listen to the money. And if we [the public] hit ‘em in the pocket, they’ll cave a lot quicker than an eloquent speech appealing to their sense of right and wrong.

I hate to see my new seasons of House, M.D., Ugly Betty, or Heroes end prematurely due to the strike, but the longer the writers hold out for what they’re due, the more I’m willing to turn off the TV. (Okay, I’ll turn it back on to watch DVDs, but only because I need the background noise.)  



*No, I haven't written for film or TV directly.  I've written for radio and magazines (consumer & trade) - two very different styles of writing.  I am aware that this sentence is somewhat misleading, but I'm not re-editing it, so suck it up.

Film & TV writers are on strike, which means everything except reality TV could halt production.  Do you support the strike?  Are any of your favorite shows in jeopardy?

I may be the lone voice of semi-apathy here, but honestly, I'm not that wrecked about the WGA strike.  I guess I support them in that I think they deserve to make decent wages off a product they helped create that is now  earning bazillions for studios on DVD releases.  Seems only fair, IMO.

I'll be the first to acknowledge that I haven't been following all the news about the strike as closely as others.  (Hey, I have naps to take!)  But I recall reading a few comments here and there about how the strike is causing so many hardworking crew and staff members to be out of work, including caterers, technicians, gaffers, janitors, etc.  And all I can think to say to that is:  Pay the damn writers the money they're due, and everyone can get back to work!  It's not rocket science, folks.  The writers aren't putting people out of work, the studios are.  The amount of money execs make off of scripted television is astronomical compared to the writers.  And the disparaging treatment of screen and scriptwriters in Hollywood is notorious.  Hell, it's the stuff of legends.  Boring, not-all-that compelling legends.  But legends nonetheless.

So the strike doesn't bother me one bit.  Plus, I'm from a Midwestern blue-collar family where unions played and continue to play a definitive role in my community.  Now, that being said, will I be down there to wave a placard along with the creative working stiffs?  Heck-i-naw.  I'll honk my horn and raise my fist in the air as I pass by, sure.  But that's it.  Well, and I guess I'll blog about it too.  Blogging: The modern-day equivalent of expressing outrage without incurring any of the consequences of actually, you know, standing up and speaking out.  (Wow.  We are one cowardly generation, aren't we?)

Yeah, I'll provide moral support while I head home to my beautiful Netflix queue that's brimming with TV shows on DVD.  That's right.  Fantastic, plot-driven stories with character development, pop culture references, and witty exchanges.  Waiting to fill my empty weekday evening hours are shows that I've been meaning to catch up on, but can rarely find the time like Entourage S3, Part 2, Robot Chicken S2, and Little Britain S3.  Shows that come highly recommended by my fellow geeks, but I've never made time to sit down and watch like Deadwood, The Prisoner, and Carnivale.  And of course, there are the shows that I simply miss from my weekly TV dial that have been slowly making their way to DVD to comfort those of us without cable like Martin S3, Wings S5, and A Bit of Fry and Laurie.

Let's take a moment to appreciate the irony that I'll be watching TV shows that I've adored for years or may adore for years to come that will never provide a decent compensation for the writers who poured their heart and souls into bringing them to life in the first place.  Sure, Paramount, Fox, HBO, and the BBC will make some nice coin off those DVD sets purchased by Netflix and Blockbuster, but how much will the writers be taking home?  So you see, for geeks like me that have our online DVD rental queues lined with more TV shows than films, it's not difficult to see why the WGA deserves a fair shake.  The money that studios are earning off this "new" technological innovation deserves to make its way back to the women and men who are responsible for my lazy ass devotion in the first place.  Blogging about it is the least I can do.  Seriously, it's the least I can do.

Bring on the Studio 60 box set.  I'm settling in.**

**Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I might read a book here and there.  Or write in my journal.  Or do something constructive.  Stop hounding me.

Show us your favorite local band.
Submitted by Soup.

Groovin' on the Inside

On Wednesday night, I attended what is probably my 27th-ish SCB gig at the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood.  So I think it's no small stretch to say that they're my favorite local band.  I moved to L.A. in the summer of 2004, and from what I've learned about the band's history since then is that Steve started performing on his own (i.e., sans Kane co-conspirator, Christian Kane) in the spring of that year, and assembled his band later that summer.  You know, I think that's maybe why I have such a fond affection for the guys.  My first year in L.A. was pretty rough, and going to see them play was one of the few high points I had in my life at the time to distract me from all my relocation drama.  Also, as I've become more settled here and started building a life for myself, the more exceptional their shows have become.

If It Ain't Easy

Steve Carlson

SCB (also known as The Steve Carlson Band) includes frontman and lead guitarist Steve Carlson; bass player (that's both electric bass and upright double bass) Steve Dress; drummer Jonah Dolan; and sax player (and flutist aficionado) David Olivas.  The band first started out with Carlson, Dress, and T.J. -- aka Timothy Jimenez -- on drums.  The trio quickly became a mainstay at the Hotel Cafe, but they've also played a few other venues throughout the Hollywood scene: the King King, Knitting Factory, Whisky a Go Go.  Dave Olivas joined the band about a year-and-a-half later, and his addition has only added more layers to their already soulful sound.  (Ha!  I remember the days when David would come to gigs dressed in some really nice slacks, a button-down shirt, and blazer.  Now he's transformed into a T-shirt and jeans man like the rest of the boys.)  Sometime last year, T.J. moved onto another band, The Rave-Ups (we miss you Tim!), and was replaced by Jonah, who played with Steve Dress in another local band called Dress.  So now Jonah's the new kid (sorta) and the band's fanbase continues to grow like whoa!

I'm not quite sure how to describe the boys' sound.  I know their Myspace page lists them as Rock/Funk/Pop, but Steve's personal Myspace says Rock/Indie Rock/Folk.  I would say they're a mix of all those.  I know what personally attracts me to their music is the soulful side of the coin.  They used to include an old Sam Cooke joint, "Bring It on Home to Me," in their set list, but they haven't done it for a while.  And anyone who counts Sam Cooke among their musical inspirations -- and actually does his songs justice -- will always have a spot in my playlist.  Don't get wrong, I like me some Rock and Folk music, but I was raised on R&B and it moves me in a much more profound way than any other genre.  That's why my favorite artists are usually Soul singers.  And Steve definitely has a bit of that Blue-eyed Soul.

With three albums to his resume (not including the Kane albums), it's difficult to pick my top 5 favorite songs.  Also, a lot of my favorites are determined more by their live performances than their albums.  For instance, I've always liked "One Thing," but now that they've added Dave's flute to the number, I love it.  Well, I love it when I can actually hear it above the din of jackasses who like to talk while the guys are on stage.  (Why do people do that?!  Seriously?  There's a whole 'nother room for them to go and gab to their heart's content.  Why not go there?)  Anyway, but if I had to pick my top 5 tunes off of the three albums, I would pick:

1. Pinata Novia (live or the Spot in the Corner version)
2. Rollin' On
3. If It Ain't Easy
4. She's Not There (which you really have to see them perform; the album version's good, but live is somethin' else!)
5. Nonstop Lady

Unfortunately, the boys aren't that great at promoting themselves, so their website is kind of blah! and the last time it was updated, the Hotel Cafe was still charging $6 at the door.  Dress is actually a little better at mentioning what's coming up for the band, but that may be because he's in like 5 other bands and he has to stay on top of that stuff in order to keep his gigs straight.  But I suppose that's a credit to how good the band is because their audience has grown considerably over the last 2 years, and it's been largely due to word of mouth.

She's Not There

Steve Carlson

Their Wednesday night show was another dose of the good stuff, except Steve actually blanked on the second verse of one song and started laughing.  :-P  He doesn't do that often, so when he does, his buddies in the audience always turn into Waldorf & Statler and give him hell.  They opened the show to this instrumental jam that I think only they know the name of; it's not on any of the albums.  And they closed with "Hummingbird Billy," which they've started doing to take advantage of the easy access solo spots throughout the song.

If you ever make it to one of their shows, make sure not to run to the bathroom or order a drink at the bar while they're performing "Pinata Novia" and "She's Not There."  During "Pinata Novia," you'll listen to Steve's bittersweet lyrics, but your eyes will be on Steve Dress's beautiful bass solo that easily made this number a fan favorite.  (Note: This track on the Spot In The Corner CD doesn't have Dress's bass.  It's a cello player instead.  And the new album, Groovin' On The Inside, has a slightly louder orchestration that tends to cover the bass's sound, unfortunately.)

Speaking of, I finally bought the new CD at Wednesday's gig, and can I just say, "What a difference a bigger production budget makes!"  Groovin' On The Inside is the closest one of their CDs have ever come to capturing how great they sound live.  I mean the difference is . . . just . . . damn!  The album's producer, Darren Sher, has got some skills, son, and he knows how to use 'em.  All I can say is Congratulations!

You Belong With Me

Steve Carlson

NB: I had to wait until the act following SCB was over before I could buy the new CD.  Why?  Because after our guys left the stage, the next artist was Tom Freund, who brought along his pal, Ben Harper, to that night's show.  Man, I can't even describe how freakin' quiet that place was while Tom performed.  Not in a bad way, of course.  It was like no one wanted to miss anything because, OMG, Ben might join him on this one!  And he did for at least 4 songs, off and on.  I kind of felt sorry for both Tom and SCB: Tom because I wonder how much attention he would've commanded if Ben wasn't there, and SCB because some of their friends/fans take their shows for granted now and spend half their time chatting/gabbing/hollering while they're on stage, and it's hella-annoying for those of us who came to actually watch the show.  Bastiches.

But Tom's definitely a talented cat, and his percussionist is sick!  The quiet just seemed so out of place at the Hotel Cafe, and gave the whole performance a very wierd and off-kilter atmosphere.  He delivered a really strong show, except I think his song order needs some adjusting.  (Why is it that folk artists seem to have 12 slow songs for every 1 fast song?  Seriously, poco allegro won't kill you.  Try it sometime.)  I would like to see him again without Ben's juice to see how he handles a slightly more vivacious crowd.  Also, even though I think Tom's a skilled musician, his bass playing can't touch Steve Dress's talent.  Yeah, I'm biased, but that doesn't mean I'm not right.  :-)

There's a lot of things that have been raining on my parade lately that I could easily let throw me into a funk, but as of this moment, I refuse.  There are just too many good things going on in my life that make me smile to let internet asshats, grave social injustices, and typical money woes steal away all that sunshine.  I'm no pollyanna, but I don't feel like being depressed right now.  Nope, not today.

So here I am, sharing with you a hodgepodge of the things that currently make me happy, make me smile.  Here's hoping they do the same for you.

Great Big Stuff

* Norbert Leo Butz.  That name alone puts a smile on my face.  But not only that, Norbert singing "Great Big Stuff" from the original Broadway cast album of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.  I dare you to not crack a smile while listening to the lyrics. 

* I ordered some Black Opal foundation and powder from an online distribution site, and even though it wasn't cheap (about $25), I'm pleasantly surprised that they sent me doubles of each product, including some skin care samples like papaya body butter.  So I ordered 1 compact of Truly Topaz Cream-to-Powder foundation and 1 Medium Deluxe Finishing Powder, and I received 2 of each.  :-D  Yay Me! 

At first I was disappointed that I had to resort to ordered my makeup from an online source, instead of just being able to go down to the drugstore or department store and buying it over the counter.  It really sucks when you live in a city where you have to travel a mile for a camel because your needs are considered irrelevant compared to every melanin-challenged woman within the city limits.  But then I found this site, and I said, "Oh well. C'est la vie."  And then I received 2 for the price of 1, and now I say, "Hell's yeah!"

Indie Coffee

* Pics of my favorite coffee stand in L.A.  It's called Independent Coffee, and it sits just outside of PitFire Pizza at the intersection of Lankershim and Magnolia in the heart of the NoHo district.  Elaine (the former co-owner) has moved on, but her brother, Joe, is still around in the late afternoons.

Beautiful Day

I usually try to stop by the stand every Saturday after my dance class at Debbie Reynolds' studio.  It's my reward for dragging my butt out of bed early Saturday morning.  This shot to the left was taken before the crazy heat started messing up everybody's flow.  This is sort of typical for a Saturday afternoon at the stand, except there were a lot of dog owners that day.  I counted at least 6 just chilling out on the PitFire Pizza patio and on the grassy area just beyond the coffee stand.

That's Kyle standing there in the red shirt and yellow apron.  He's chatting with Sean and a couple other folks while he's on break.  Another bonus.  The stand is opposite a Starbucks, and as you can see, Indie Coffee has all the shade while Starbucks lovers have to sit in the sun.  No offense intended to the 'Bux though.  Indie just has the better loose leaf chai.  Not to mention better customer service and cooler sidewalk traffic.  Actors, dancers, musicians, et al. make their way through here on daily basis before/after meetings, rehearsals, and classes.  Check it out if you have a chance.  There's no where to sit where you won't have a beautiful view.

View from cafe (see the sunny Starbucks across the way)

* Speaking of views, now that I commute back and forth from the Valley to the city, I have the pleasure of catching this beautiful perspective of the San Fernando Valley as I come down from the top of the hill that helps create the Sepulveda Pass.  I find it truly is awe-inspiring.  To be able to see all the way across this incredibly vast area from mountain to mountain is almost spiritual.  When the setting sun makes its presence known once more after my car emergs from the brilliant cocoon of the Pass, some days it's just the right shot in the arm at just the right time.  Ephemeral, yet eternal.  It makes you wonder how many eyes have gazed upon that same horizon throughout the centuries and felt a part of something much more powerful, much more brilliant than they could possibly imagine.

* Well, enough of that.  ::shakes off inner poet::  The next happy is brought to you by the lovely Miss Rae.  Corinne Bailey Rae that is.  Yeah, yeah.  I know that I'm late to the game and all, but to be honest, I didn't fall head over heels for her first big single over the summer.  Don't get me wrong, it wasn't bad.  I just didn't feel compelled to rush out and buy the album.  But not, I'm singing another tune.  I borrowed Ms. Rae's CD from la bibliotheque and I have since been converted.  Float on, Ms. Rae.  Float on.

* And last but certainly not least.  After sitting against the wall for 3 months, then finally dragging it out into the living room floor and forcing myself to put it together this past Labor Day, I present ladies and germs: my new wooden file cabinet.  And by wooden, I mean freshly pressed, chemically treated particle board-esque wooden planks.  The directions said you needed 2 people to assemble it, but I persevered.  It only took 3 1/2 hours of persevering, but here it is.  I'm so proud of me.

File Cabinet

DIY - All me!

Ladies and Gentleman, today's high in the Valley is 110 degrees.  According to weather.com, it's currently 108 and it feels like 108.  And I say to this, weather.com is a big, fat stupid liar.  If it doesn't feel like 115 in the shade, my name is Bubba Papadopulous.  The heat this past weekend has just been sick.  I've actually found myself entertaining the possibility of moving to the city (where it's always 10-15 degrees cooler) when my lease is up.  Seriously, it's that freakin' sweltering. 

Drink Lots of Water

Yeah, I know what you're thinking.  "Kelleah, where were you when the rest of the country were suffering from the same intense heatwave last month?"  Well, I'll tell you.  I was in Malibu, bitches!  Enjoying the cool, strong breezes, and praying someone would turn down the damn air conditioner so I could type on my keyboard without the fear of breaking a finger.  Now, I want that central A/C transplanted to my shoddy apt building in Van Nuys where you can't even hold a conversation in the same room as the window unit because it's so freakin' loud.

As I mentioned before, the new job gave me a lovely 4-day weekend to celebrate the end of summer.  And with the exception of the insane heat and the balmy sauna that is my bedroom, I'm enjoying this much needed time off.  Friday and Saturday were a mix of TCB and Fun Me Time.  I took my car in for an oil change (and valve inspection) on Friday, then I ran a few errands before landing into one of the cushion-y theater seats at the Pacific 21 Winnetka where I watched Balls of Fury while soaking up the free A/C.  I guess since I bought the movie ticket, technically it wasn't free.  Shut up.  Maintain the fantasy.

I enjoyed BoF.  It's definitely in the same vein as Dodgeball, but not nearly as funny.  Believe me, it's worth the price of admission, but maybe only the matinee price.  You might be a little disappointed if you go to a nighttime show.  My favorite part about the entire film is the cast.  Dan Fogler plays our hero, and I don't think I've ever seen him in any other films.  I know he won a Tony Award for The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee a few years back, but that's my only point of reference.  He did a good job, but I wish we could've seen more of his character when he was a little kid.  The little boy playing the young Randy was really good also.  In addition to Dan, you have George Lopez (who had me crackin' up with what I'll assume are a few of his personal ad-libs), James Hong (didn't I just watch him in Big Trouble in Little China?), and Maggie Q (one of the few female celebs who I agree is a real hottie, despite the fact that she has no hips whatsoever).  The movie even had great cameo spots by Jason Scott Lee, Robert Patrick, and Terry Crews.  To be honest, I wasn't all that wowed by Christopher Walken's villain.  IMO, he's getting to the point where he's only playing caricatures of himself and it's getting pretty stale.  Other than that, I thought it was a decent film.  I'll give it a B.

Saturday, I went back to my Jazz dance class after missing last week's.  I swear, for every 1 class I miss, I feel like I've missed 4.  The entire time I was huffin' and puffin' like the little steam engine that could.  Can you say "embarrassing," boys and girls?  But I'm glad I went though.  I don't have an on-site gym to pretend to use anymore, so any exercise I can sneak in can only help.  The outdoor heat was really bad yesterday, so I honestly didn't feel like doing much beyond the bare minimum. And for someone who handles the heat better than most, I mean this was nausea-inducing heat folks.  All-you-want-to-do-is-go-to-the-grocery-store-and-take-a-nap-in-the-frozen-food-section kind of temperatures.  I had an eye doctor's appt at 3 pm, then I checked my P.O. Box, dropped off my library books, and headed home.  SCB was playing down at the Hotel Cafe last night, but I wasn't going back out.  Granted, the show didn't start until 11pm, but I didn't care.  Hell, I was online last night around midnight (watching clips of The Colbert Report), and when I checked the temperature outside, it was still 88 degrees.  People, that's 88 degrees at 12:16 am.  What The [expletive deleted]!!  And you know each summer is only going to get worse, thanks to global warming.  Yeah, a move to the city is looking better and better.

Woman Cleaning

Today, is more of a Home and Hearth day.  I've been cleaning and chillin' most of the time.  To tell you the truth, I  really need to get off of here and get back to work.  I stopped to eat something and got to playing around on the 'net.  I still have to clean the bathroom, sweep and mop the kitchen floor, vacuum, and fold the load of clothes that's probably waiting for me in the dryer over in the laundry room.  I also have a file cabinet I'm going to try and assemble later on this evening -- damn instructions say it takes 2 people, but I'm going to give it a shot anyway.  Wish me luck!  :-)

I'm outta here folks.  Talk to yous guys, later.

SoCal weather is schizophrenic.  For the last 2 or 3 weeks, the weather has gone from late summer/early fall temps like 72/73 degrees at the beginning of the week to late fall/early winter temps like 53/54 degrees by Friday.  And today, it's going to be 82 degrees in Van Nuys and 78 degrees in Malibu.  What's that all about?!

I love warm weather with a passion.  I adore my hometown, but I don't know how I managed all those winters in Indiana.  I can honestly say, I'm one of the few people here who think that L.A. isn't consistently warm enough.  (The 7 months of overcast can seriously mess up a spring or summer afternoon of errands and outdoor cafe dining.)  But despite today's warm front, it's supposed to get down to 54 degrees on Friday with rain making its rounds come Thursday evening.  Um, yeah.  Pick a season already.

Is it winter, or in this case, California winter, with the constant rain, cold mornings, and tepid afternoons?  Or is it springtime with the inconsistent drizzle, sunny everywhere but the Valley, and too cold for just a windbreaker, but too warm for an overcoat weather?  Sheesh.