I am off to La La Land tomorrow, for a well needed break from the mundane and bleak that is life in, this, The Garden State.
I am no stranger to The City of Angels, I spent a wonderful "lost weekend" there many, many moons ago, and since then I've dreamt of the day when I would return. Granted, the Los Angeles that I spent time in was a tad seedy, and a bit flashy with disco being all the rage, and punk rock just starting to rear it's nasty little head. But in spite of, and because of, its strange beauty L.A. seduced me, and I've never been the same. To this day, when I think of Los Angeles I imagine a neon lit world that's equal parts Raymond Chandler, Exene Cervenka, and, Charles Nelson Riley.
I was 19 the last time I was in Babylon; but that's a whole other story, for a whole other time.
On Wednesday afternoon, when I depart from my flight at LAX, I won't be walking fifteen blocks to a rundown little hotel; this time I'll be taking a shuttle to a four star joint on Wilshire blvd. I'll be in the company of my partner, the guy I love, and I won't be stumbling around all green and wide eyed. This time I've got tours lined up, and a couple of nights out with an old pal who now lives in West Hollywood (he's a part time actor, aren't they all?) - I plan on taking in a few tapings of a few shows (if all goes as planed), and since my better half will be working most of the weekend that we are here at Book Expo America, I am hoping to rub shoulders with a few authors - or at the very least, get a glimpse of a few of them.
I wish someone would have started an Edward D. Wood Jr. Musuem. I'd tour a place like that in a heartbeat! After all, nothing says Hollywood like the films of Mr. Wood! Damn, maybe when I retire, I'll move to L.A. and open up a memorial shrine to the greatest no-talent director of all time! Angora sweaters gets you in for half price! Imagine for a moment what a wild place the Wood Shrine could be: A Gothic mansion festooned in a nonsensical monster motif with splashes of 50's style space-age decor! Of course, there'd be a special room set aside for Vampira and Tor Johnson, and of course, the unforgettable John "Bunny" Breckinridge.
I wonder if anyone understood that for his lack of talent, Ed, was a hard working guy who never gave up. Even when he was churning out titty flicks and writing pulp trash novels - he was, in fact, creating. My shrine would include a library of every damn book, script and cocktail napkin he ever doodled on.
Well, for the handful of you who even bother looking at this blog of mine, I will try and come up with something to post during my little vacation. Maybe a shot of Ed's apartment building, or a picture of the house Sharon Tate met her untimely death in, or a word about the pretty boys who line up on Sunset at dusk, or maybe just a shot of the Hollywood sign and a small mention of Peg Entwistle ...
California, here I come.
I am no stranger to The City of Angels, I spent a wonderful "lost weekend" there many, many moons ago, and since then I've dreamt of the day when I would return. Granted, the Los Angeles that I spent time in was a tad seedy, and a bit flashy with disco being all the rage, and punk rock just starting to rear it's nasty little head. But in spite of, and because of, its strange beauty L.A. seduced me, and I've never been the same. To this day, when I think of Los Angeles I imagine a neon lit world that's equal parts Raymond Chandler, Exene Cervenka, and, Charles Nelson Riley.
I was 19 the last time I was in Babylon; but that's a whole other story, for a whole other time.
On Wednesday afternoon, when I depart from my flight at LAX, I won't be walking fifteen blocks to a rundown little hotel; this time I'll be taking a shuttle to a four star joint on Wilshire blvd. I'll be in the company of my partner, the guy I love, and I won't be stumbling around all green and wide eyed. This time I've got tours lined up, and a couple of nights out with an old pal who now lives in West Hollywood (he's a part time actor, aren't they all?) - I plan on taking in a few tapings of a few shows (if all goes as planed), and since my better half will be working most of the weekend that we are here at Book Expo America, I am hoping to rub shoulders with a few authors - or at the very least, get a glimpse of a few of them.
Of course I am planning on seeing a few of the darker sides of Tinsel Town; The Dearly Departed Tour seems to be right up my alley ... and I am hoping to get a chance to see The Hollywood Forever Memorial Cemetery.
I wish someone would have started an Edward D. Wood Jr. Musuem. I'd tour a place like that in a heartbeat! After all, nothing says Hollywood like the films of Mr. Wood! Damn, maybe when I retire, I'll move to L.A. and open up a memorial shrine to the greatest no-talent director of all time! Angora sweaters gets you in for half price! Imagine for a moment what a wild place the Wood Shrine could be: A Gothic mansion festooned in a nonsensical monster motif with splashes of 50's style space-age decor! Of course, there'd be a special room set aside for Vampira and Tor Johnson, and of course, the unforgettable John "Bunny" Breckinridge. I wonder if anyone understood that for his lack of talent, Ed, was a hard working guy who never gave up. Even when he was churning out titty flicks and writing pulp trash novels - he was, in fact, creating. My shrine would include a library of every damn book, script and cocktail napkin he ever doodled on.
Well, for the handful of you who even bother looking at this blog of mine, I will try and come up with something to post during my little vacation. Maybe a shot of Ed's apartment building, or a picture of the house Sharon Tate met her untimely death in, or a word about the pretty boys who line up on Sunset at dusk, or maybe just a shot of the Hollywood sign and a small mention of Peg Entwistle ...
California, here I come.
4 comments:
Have a great trip, Pax.
for years i've been calling dear eddie a true american hero. he pursued his dreams despite all the odds and goddamnitalltohell he saw his pictures on the big screen!
It would be difficult to photograph Sharon Tate's death house, as it was torn down long ago and the street reconfigured - the address doesn't even exist anymore. They did everything but sow the ground with salt. But according to a recent episode of Ghost Hunters, the people who occupy the basic plot of land on Cielo Drive have experienced paranormal activity.
Arby,
Yeah, that's what were told while on one of the tours, though we did see Jack Nicholson's house where Roman Polanski and his nymphet did the deed, and Hollywood Forever cemetery was awesome!
Post a Comment