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14 june 2000
----- Still no photo per se, but I screen captured an ls of this website from a telnet session -- someone might find it interesting... then again, maybe not. My most annoying in-mouth stitch has just started to work its way loose. Thank heavens for the power of solid food. Tonight I took myself to Granita, which is in danger of becoming my new neighborhood haunt. I chewed (yes, actually chewed) and ingested an incredible grilled salmon at the bar, alone, but not lonely. I struck up a conversation with Veronica of Veronica Skin Care, who was there to meet a blind date at the bar, and apparently was stood up. This woman was beautiful in every sense of the word, and I found myself half-hoping her date would show up, for her sake, and half-hoping he wouldn't, because I was really enjoying talking to her. And I mean that in a completely "friendship" way, for although she was very attractive, I was more enjoying her company in a "wow, I can talk to this person" sense than anything else. Besides, she's old enough to be my mom. She may even come to the gig on friday... Ugh, the band... last night's rehearsal ... the energy level was way high, and I unconsciously responded, over-exerting myself to the point of pain. I got home and my jaw was killing me. I popped two percocet and settled back with a book. I was still awake at 6am when the phone rang ... my boss from the east coast, just catching up, completely clueless to the fact that I'm most likely quitting pretty soon... I finally fell asleep around seven, woke at noon, did my eight hours work for the day in thirty minutes, and proceeded to printing the jewel-box covers and inserts for our new cd, on sale at the next gig, this Friday, at Luna Park, 665 N Robertson, West Hollywood, (www.lunapark-losangeles.com) at 8 pm sharp. They look very professional, but I know I can do so much better next time.... ~~~ Malibu .... how do I say this. I dunno, growing up in a close-knit small town in New Jersey, the whole idea of "Malibu" was so far-fetched. It's the place where movie stars live. It's Hollywood personified, it's the backdrop for Jay Leno on the Tonight Show. Endless white beaches, beautiful sunsets over the ocean, idyllic in a sense, untouchable to the common folk like you and me.... I moved to Los Angeles eight years ago. I've worked in Malibu for half that time. And now I live in Malibu. And I realized something tonight ... as far as a sense of community, or that warm fuzzy "Cheers"-like feeling "where everybody knows your name," a small town close to the big city, a true community -- Malibu is the closest thing I've found to my New Jersey home anywhere in the world. It's a matter of soul, or spirit. Everyone here knows everyone else. I keep on running into people, saying "hi" on the street, talking about "going into town" (a famous expression, "town" being the city of Los Angeles, a surprisingly "distant" 12 miles down Pacific Coast Highway). When I was working here, I sensed it, but now that I live here, I truly feel it. Malibu is a real community of real people. Sure, most of the Hollywood celebrity rich-and-shameless people live here, but they're all on that little stretch of beach. The rest of the town extends beyond that, to the apartment complexes, to the trailer parks, to the horse ranches ... I'm beginning to know all of these people, and they are _real_, more real than anything I've encountered in southern california. It feels like a neighborhood, there's a commonality among the residents that doesn't exist anywhere else I've seen in my eight years in LA. Truth is, I really like it here -- and everything they say about Malibu tells me I shouldn't. This place is beginning to feel like "home," and moreso "home" than Los Angeles proper ever did. ~~~ Veronica's date eventually showed up ... she didn't seem too impressed by him. "Oh my god, I hope that's not him" were her exact words as he walked through the door. I think she wanted to hang out and talk with me some more, and I'm sure it had nothing to do with getting laid. That's a cool thing. ~~~ My teeth. Mouth still hurts like hell, but I'm trying best to be a trooper. The drugs are helping. I'm really beginning to like percocet, despite its inherent evil. It's like a warm friend at night, taking the pain away, allowing me to relax if not sleep. I see now how so many people get addicted to stuff like this. Did I mention that I have a really good feeling about friday night's gig? If I did, then shame on me. I wouldn't wanna jinx the band or anything. I just swallowed the stiches from my upper right tooth socket. Yum. Two down, two to go. Been working on my organ solo for my new tune, which is actually the first of the two I'll be singing on Friday. My older, and more finished song, is later in the set. Ice Dog lambasted me on it the other day... "Your solo sounds like shit. Work on it." "I know, but..."
"No fucking buts, you work hard on everyone else's tunes, why don't you work hard on your own?" I had no answer to that. But maybe I do have an answer, and it's a pretty easy one: it's easier to disappoint myself than it is to disappoint someone else. And thus is the bane of my existence. Yeah, right. Scuse me while I go masturbate.... ~~~ In the forum:What does "Malibu" Mean to You? 14 june 1999: : didn't write 14 june 1998: just shouldn't write : The real question is, fifty years from now, when I'm all shrivelled up and what's left of my brain is wired into whatever passes for a personal computer, will I look back upon these words and be happy that I decided to write this entry? Yeah, I probably would. It doesn't take much to get an eighty-year old excited.
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