GREETINGS FROM SUNNY TEDDY SANTA MONICA

LALA LAND OBSERVATIONS AND REPRESENTATIVE ANECDOTES OF THE DAY:

1) Venice Beach. Where westward expansion and the longing for transcendence hit the intransigient limits of geography and the self, leaving a residue of disappointment that masquerades as celebration. The trinkety and unsavory detritus along the beach is the dwarfed remnant of the great spiritual quest for fulfillment. Or escape.

But Santa Monica (and the Third Street Promenade in specific) is another story entirely.

2) LA-ers seem to have no sense of direction. Twice I asked people if they were from around here and they said yes and I asked if they knew where a certain street was and both times they said "No, sorry " and both times it turned out that the street in question was within 100 feet from where we were standing. I detect a stunning level of vacuity. Or self-absorbtion. Or some combination of the two.

3) I drove the other night unwittingly with my lights off (I was under the mistaken impression that in these new cars, the lights are always automatically on) and no one arrested me or flashed their blinkers at me. Again, a stunning level of vacuity. Or self-absorbtion. Or some combination of the two. Although in this case the stunning level of vacuity was on my part.

4) I used to joke that L.A. is the only city in the world where a cigarette doubles as an air filter. But the smog here doesn't seem to be as bad as it used to be and so, constrained by the self-imposed imperatives of reportorial probity, I had to cast that quip in the past tense.

5) 20 minutes seems to be the universal estimate of a ride's length. " How far will it take me to go there?" "Oh, about 20 minutes." Of course, it's usually more like an hour. But it seems 20 minutes has been focus grouped and market tested as the most acceptable and encouraging thing to say. I suppose that if they were to be honest to out-of-towners or even to themselves about the time it takes to get anywhere around here, no one would never have the courage to turn the ignition key.

6) The parking spots at the Hollywood studio/TV production company I visited the other day are ostentatiously reserved for Jews and movie stars. My random walk down a portion of the parking lot's prime real estate took me past the names Abrams, Abraham, Weinstein, Levin, Roth, Cramer, Berkowitz, Rosen, Schwartz and Goldberg. On the movie star front, there was Ben Affleck and Julie Christie. And on the TV writer front, I saw Larry David and David Milch.

Each sign was formatted with a "Reserved For" at the top and then the big bold name of the V.I.P. below. The highlight was at the end of the row there was a formatted sign that read: "Reserved for No Parking."

Wow, No Parking is gonna very pissed when he sees someone else is parked there.

CLARIFICATION OF THE DAY:

Lest I irresponsibly contribute to the common misperception that Jews run Hollywood, let me point out that there were a couple of non-Jewish, non-movie star names in the lot. Or at least one.

PROMISORY NOTE OF THE DAY:

To post photographic evidence of the above described parking lot when I get back to NY where I left my U.S.B. cable.

TV EXPERIENCE OF THE DAY:

Harold "Call Me, Harold" Ford, Sean Penn and Gary Shandling were on Bill Maher's Real Time. What was interesting--aside from the bizarre spectacle of Shandling's born-again Buddhism and his constant seeking of confirmation from Penn, whose eyes seemed dim and whose mouth had a rivettingly scornful asymmetry--was the devoutly Christian Ford's palpable discomfort--torn between complicit laughter and fear of being perceptually tainted through his association with these funny godless heathens.

UNFORTUNATE NAME OF THE DAY:

BJ Services.

Every bit as real and unfortunate as that of the baseball pitcher J.J. Putz. Saw it roadside a few weeks ago in Long Island.

TRIBUTE OF THE DAY:

To the milk shake: Antidote to thought.

PURCHASE OF THE DAY:

I am writing this (in its original scribbled form before being typed into my computer) with the least expensive and offensive writing implement available for purchase at the airport: a red white and blue American flag pen for $2.95 instead of the WTC memorial tourist trinket for $5.95. Commemorate catastrophe with tasteless acts of consumerism. It's the American way.

WALKING NOTES OF THE DAY:

This morning, I was one of the very few people who was walking and pretty much the only person without sunglasses and I was certainly the only person both walking and without sunglasses.

I had decided to make this the day I would buy my semi-annual shirt, and so I made an uncharacteristic detour from my meditative perambulations around the Santa Monica pier to go into the shrine of consumerism (Macy's) . Suffice it to say that 2 hours (and a lot of unspiritual indecisiveness later), I walked out of there $400 lighter and schlepping all kinds of clothing I have no idea if I even like.

Ah shopping. Ah humanity.

Interesting thing: I turned down a chance to get  off my purchase because I didn't want to give my social security number for the Macy's card. I suspect this violation of the most fundamental tenet of Jewish culture (the value of value; also known as the commandment to never buy retail) will confirm my status as a pariah in the eyes of many of my family and friends (many of whom are not Jewish but have adopted this cultural commandment.)

My sales check out clerk was a strange bird named James. He behaved as if the ritual of payment was the center piece of my day, and proceeded at a most langorous pace. He remarked "Sixty-nine dollars. That's a great price." (I think he was trying to be mischievous or funny). He also had the quirky habit of reading out the prices in decimal rather than dollar and cent form. "That's 73 point 87 etc." And upon seeing my New York Driver's License he said "Oh, you're from New York City. Have you ever heard of Prospect Park?" And I said, "No. But have you ever heard of The Beverly Center?" What he had was a fundamental quirkiness trying to hide itself behind a sense of humor. But there was something off. Like the discursive equivalent of a bad toupee.

Anyhow, returning to my hotel, I was most definitely the only guy walking, not wearing sunglasses and schlepping $400 of clothing he has no idea if he will ever really wear.

PHOTOGRAPHY IDEA OF THE DAY:

Shoot a book of photos of L.A. Pedestrians. A rare and strange species in an alien and inhospitable landscape. In the bold (if slightly smog-filtered) light, they appear exposed, almost ghostly. Like travellers going nowhere after the end of the world.

COMMENT OF THE DAY:

I don't know why those cemeteries are wasting their time trying to sell me a burial plot. I can barely commit to my next cigarette, much less my resting place for eternity.

GAME OF THE DAY:

Jingle warfare. Mutually assured melodic infection.

PEEVE OF THE DAY:

NRA opposes bill banning gun sales to terrorist suspects.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070504/ap_on_go_co/terror_suspects_guns

I repeat. People who oppose gun control should be shot.

NEW CATEGORY/PHRASE OF THE DAY:

The Pandora's Box of politeness. That's when you make polite chit chat with someone and then you get cornered into some eye glazing discourse about god knows what.

CONFESSION OF THE DAY:

Transfixed and deeply moved by Time Warner Soft Rock collection advertorial.
1-800 970 0759

MOVIE REVIEW OF THE DAY:

After a promising first hour, that freaking Secret Window movie I saw on TV degenerated into the most preposterously gratuitous insult to the intelligence and dignity of the audience. It was an absurd recombinant hash of Psycho, Cape Fear, The Shining, Misery and Fight Club (in the inanely literalized hallucinatory representation of psychosis.) and a colossal waste of Johnny Depp's talent.

DILEMMA OF THE DAY:

Buffett and Genocide:

Compassion, it has often been noted, is the first casualty of capitalism. But is the death of ethics a necessary corrollary to that? This issue has now been brought home to me. I own a little bit of Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway stock (To clarify: Not the super-expensive A shares, but a few of the far less expensive B shares...Just didn't want anyone reading the blog just because they wanted to get on my good side because they thought I was rich) and it appears that one of the companies in which Berkshire Hathaway has holdings is owned by a Chinese oil company with big investments in the Sudan. These investments, in turn, appear to be linked to support of the atrocities in Dafur. So, the dilemma: Genocidal hordes of raping, pillaging, plundering janjaweeds or the pleasure of seeing some electronic green next to BRKB when I check my stocks? Hmm. The devil barges in with Buffett's rationalization that "divestiture from the subsidiary company will not in any way effect the behavior of the parent company." And I almost believe him. But even if it does not lead to a direct change in policy, it leverages the moral authority associated with Buffett's good name to boost international awareness of the issue and perhaps lead to some positive real world consequence in the long run.

Gonna read more about it and keep you posted. But it looks like Teddy and Warren might have to be parting ways.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

I like Pixel Vision. I just like anything that is like so off but is still obviously trying to be representational. (beat.) Like my memory.

MY HOTEL EXPERIENCE IN SANTA MONICA DESCRIBED AS AN AD:

Getting to see people at the hotel bar and pool who have fashioned themselves celebrity knock-offs. Priceless.

Getting to see most of them perpetually on the lookout for actual rather than facsimile celebrites. Priceless.

Being within easy walking distance of the Pacific Ocean and all of the glorious things that have washed up on its shore. Priceless.

Paying $37 for a bowl of cornflakes, a small orange juice and a small pot of coffee. Pricy.

EXCHANGE OF THE DAY:

-Do I look famous?
-Uh, famous doesn't have a look. You'd look famous if you happened to be famous.

LFAQs of the DAY:

The wheel has existed for millenia. Luggage has existed for centuries. So why did it take so long to put wheels on luggage?

If Barry Bonds were indicted on the very day he breaks the HR record, which would be the bigger story? Would the stories be combined into one huge headline or be broken up into two big headlines?

Can one specialize in being a generalist?

Is it possible for a guy to be gay for girls?

Is it possible for a guy to be a lesbian trapped in a man's body?

If so, could he undergo the perversity of getting a sex change operation in order to more properly purse a homosexual relationship?

Now that it seems this Josh Hancock baseball player guy was drunk dialing at the time of his fatal car crash, does the sympathy shift away from him as tragic victim and get replaced by a sense of outrage that he was an irresponsible menace to society who could very well could have pulled a Brandy or a Matthew Broderick?

THESIS OF THE DAY:

Speaking of Josh Hancock, Brandy and Matthew Broderick (who, it will be remembered, killed someone in Ireland a number of years ago in a car crash and settled it quietly with lots ofmoney), how amazing would it be if one celebrity had a fatal car crash with another car that just happened to contain another celebrity? Like a super high Q-rating subplot of "Crash." I think that would be when the world would end. There would be a pre-recorded statement spoken aloud in a booming cosmic voice: "All possibilities and permutationshave now been explored and exhausted. The world is now officially over."

COMPLIMENT OF THE DAY:

Astronomically adequate

BEVERAGE COMMENT OF THE DAY:

I love coffee. The first 4 sips and I feel this instant universal love for like 20 minutes. And then I go back to being my normal detached self.

EUPHORIA OF THE DAY:

Sunday Trader Joes a strong Iced Coffee = Too...much...joy.

PRIMAL MEMORY OF THE DAY:

May 6. Today is the anniversary of the day my parents told me they were getting divorced. I was 11. It was a pretty world-shattering event for me--at the cusp of adolescence and all. I remember the date for that reason and for the fact that it was the birthday of my favorite baseball player and childhood idol Willie Mays. What do I remember from that day? Tossing a baseball with my brother in front of my house as my dad came home after his walk from the train station. We were excited that he would be coming home soon and hoping that he'd join us in the game of catch. He made a few perfunctory throws and catches and then went inside. Then my mother and father called me and my brother inside. We were a bit late in responding and they brusquely repeated the order to end our game and join them. They sat us down on the couch in the living room and my mother was on one chair and my father on another--a little farther away. We were a bit surly--bracing for some kind of lecture about disobeying our parents or something. I remember noticing that my father was wearing sunglasses inside--which struck me as odd. But not odd enough to change my assumption that we were going to get yelled at for something. Then my mother said "Your father and I are going to get separated."

Like for good?
Possibly.

Suddenly there was crying and screaming and I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. My mother followed me but I locked her out of my room. My father started sobbing and screaming upstairs "I told you we shouldn't have told them." Then he came upstairs and told me that he still loved me and would always love me. And I could smell his grown-up breath. Then later, my mother started singing "We Shall Overcome." on her autoharp and tried to get us to join her. My father's birthday is March 8 and my mother's is May 19 and I remember thinking that it was somehow unfair to my mother that she'd already bought my father his birthday present for the year and now wouldn't be getting one from him.

My god, I was really a child once. In my parents' house.

A million years ago. Amazing.

OBSERVATION OF THE DAY NUMBER WHATEVER:

A lot of mortal and immortal shit is going on all around us all the time.

RANDOM SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:

His elevator didn't go to any of the floors that other people lived on.

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Posted on 5/7/2007 ( Permanent Link )
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