L.A. Diary - Day Six

The days are flying by, doing things we've never done before, in places we've never been.

We've sort of "broken the routine" which is one way to look at the world with new eyes.

Went to Palm Springs. Came back.

Our hostess is one of the sweetest, most generous people I've ever met.

We are lucky.

Went to a wonderful dinner party, had superb vegetarian chile with some great friends.

We go from one genial haze to another.

Not a lot of time to think, or worry, the newspaper seems like a lifeless thing in my hands.

The stories seem to be about another time and place.

Worlds away.

I'm still sort of like a stone, skipping across the water, wondering if and when I stop, then what?!

L.A. Diary - Day Five

We hit the road to Palm Springs. Big, snow-capped mountains. A large wind farm. Pulled into the Ace Hotel. It's a trip. Maybe used to be an old HoJos or something. The food is great, the rooms are funky and comfortable. Some weird 70's motif.

The pool is warm. The air is cool. Reading Okervil River's tour diary.

I borrowed an Epiphone acoustic guitar from the lobby, and the Lovely Carla and I worked out a song last night. Sort of a celtic, drone thing. I love when the songs flow.

We're hanging round the pool this morning. The sun dancing in and out of clouds. The whole itinerary has been worked out by our hostess. We're just going with the flow. It's kind of an amazing journey. Like it's all been worked out for us and we just do the steps that have already been laid out in the future.

Kind of strange, but it's all good too. I am a feather waiting for the next stiff blast of wind.

L.A. Diary - Day Four

I woke up in L.A. living someone else's life:

Eating someone else's food
Sleeping in someone else's bed
Driving someone else's car
Listening to someone else's music
Reading someone else's paper
Blogging on someone else's computer

And what is a man?

I'm a fish out of water
kind of flopping around
on the shoreline
gasping for air.

It's kind of scary
and exhilarating.

Am I me or someone else?
All the evidence points to
a major identity crisis
but I have evolved (or is it devolved)
into some very specific, crusty
character.

I'm a character actor
searching for a role
that would support
all my particular quirks and foibles.

I don't think that film
is gonna get the greenlight

L.A. Diary - Day Three

I don't know what it all has to do with the Puritans; who of course, ended up doing a real number on the Indians, and really, I mean, it has nothing to do with the Puritans, although that may have been the genesis of the whole thing anyway.

We did the Thanksgiving ritual in L.A.

What is the meaning of a ritual enacted in a totally foreign environment, disconnected from any context? The sunshiny L.A. context of no context Thanksgiving.

Our hosts put on an exquisite feast, a superb meal, which came in meticulously thought-out and executed courses. We ate like kings. Not sure what we did to deserve all this, but we are here and living high on the hog. That hog is the gift that keeps on giving.

L.A. Diary - Day Two

It was one of those days that just elongated forever. It was basically three acts.

Act One: Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia

I spent most of the day in the back seat of a sleek black convertible with an 18 pound turkey - plucked, be-headed, gutted, chilled. At the wheel: our beautifully dazzling L.A. lawyer friend, long tresses flying, driving around town at breakneck speed. I was totally helpless, and just let go. A very Zen day. Kind of like a leaf or an empty plastic bag just floating in the breeze. We ended up at the farmer's market and had a fabulous Mexican fiesta at the Loteria Grill. Highly recommended!

Act Two: My Dinner with Andre

Great friends, great food at Paru a vegetarian Indian place in Hollywood. One of those long, rambling dinners, with no detours, no worries, no doubts. Seems everyone at the table was an artist, a writer, a singer, producer, director, actor, clairvoyant. Everyone creative and interesting, beautiful and alive. That sounds like a typical L.A. gathering.

Act Three: The Big Lebowski
Back in our adopted home in Silverlake. Ingested a few happily agreeable substances to top off the night. It all worked on me to perfection. It was all giggles and belly laughs. Everything seemed funny. Everything perfect and in its place. Got a nice warm fuzzy feeling. Finally crashed late in the night. Slept like a very content and blissfully burned out Lebowski.

L.A. Diary - Day One

Yesterday was travel day.
It's amazing your life comes down to
this street corner
this el stop
this train car
on road with these folks.

The mundane world of flesh and bone.

And in one frame of mind, it is still amazing that we can hurtle through the sky at 38,000 feet in a big metal tube. Although, our education tells us it's nothing special. And the actual ordeal is so much of a boring zombie walk. Carrying our bag of bones from one waiting room to the next.

Traveling is all about trusting all these people that you don't know, hoping that they do know what they are doing, they do know how to fly a plane (and land), and all the other strangers around you don't want do you harm. Our lives are built on these vast networks of trust.

You have to forget all you know, all you've read and seen, just to move forward with peace of mind.

Anyway we made it. And we find ourselves in some one else's paradise. Our hostess is a dazzling force of nature. We are staying at this incredibly beautiful L.A. home sitting on a hill overlooking some of the most expensive real estate in the world. We have fallen into the lap of luxury. It's very strange, waking up in someone else's reality. Everything glows.

It's enough of a mind bend to throw one into some kind of existential vortex. I'm there but I think it's going to be a memorable velvet glove-type experience.

L.A. Diary

We're heading to L.A. for Thanksgiving.
When you think of Turkey Day
don't you think:

freeways
traffic jams
burning hills
Arnold the Govenator?

We are staying with friends:
A young lawyer
a hot, Kate Hudson look-a-like
and her boyfriend
a young creative director.

A perfect L.A. couple.

Don't know why exactly
they wanted us to visit,
but they did.

So we will be there for
6 days.

I will be keeping an
L.A. Diary.
I'm bringing a notebook and pen.

Wonder if I still know how to write
without the aid of a keyboard?

Not sure how often I'll get
to blog and post.

We'll see...

Worm Turn

And just how many times can the worm turn?

The Puddle Master!

Working on my third cup of coffee this morning
I start making fun of Will Shortz on NPR.

The Lovely Carla points out to me: "Will Shortz is a Puzzle Master.
He doesn't just do puzzles, he makes the puzzles. What are you a master of?"

Sunny Jimmy: "Me, well, I am a Puddle Master!"

Weeding Your Garden

One good thing about being on the planet for awhile

you get to do stuff, and then realize,

"Well, I never want to do that ever again."

It's sort of a process of elimination.

Maybe you don't really know what you want to do with your life.

But you find out in little drips and drabs what you don't want to do.

Probably not the most efficient way to live a life.

But it's what us life amateurs call "The Process of Weeding Out."

Gimmee the Covers

I've been doing a little project that will probably never see the light of day. I've been learning and recording stripped down versions of some of my favorite songs and then recording them in my own little home studio.

Just me and an acoustic guitar. Then a bass track and a little electric guitar accompaniment. I'm trying to do it as "live" as possible. No fancy studio tricks. Just stark, raw performance. I think I'm gonna call it: Gimmee the Covers.

I'm pretty happy with it so far. Now of course, since it's all copyrighted stuff, I can't really sell it or put it out there. So I realize it's all just kind of a Zen thing.

Still, it's been very gratifying to learn the songs, step through the chords, learn the words, put it all together. Somehow I think my choices of songs tell a story in themselves. Some songs I picked because I just love them. Some because I thought I could actually do them justice, some because they are obscure, odd or funny, some because I just wanted to try out the guitar parts.

Here's the list so far:

Roll Another Number by Neil Young
I'm Only Sleeping by John Lennon
Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan
While My Guitar Gently Weeps by George Harrison
Play with Fire by Jagger/Richards
Comfortably Numb by David Gilmour
Powderfinger by Neil Young
One Step Closer by U2
Rain by John Lennon
Jumping at Shadows by Peter Green

I'm gonna do some more. I'm working on Bob Marley's Redemption Song at the moment. To my ears, even when it's me playing it, it sounds like one of the greatest songs ever written.

Footprints

Some days it is like
you walk
and leave footprints
and then you
turn around
get down on your knees
and erase them
like they never existed
in the first place

Amazing Rush of Joy

Yes, admittedly,
it is rainy and bleak this morning.
Still, I get this amazing
rush of joy from just being alive.
Where does that come from?

I guess when push comes to shove
I do believe in magic.

I mean, if you define magic
as: shit happens
and you don't really know why
or how.

I think by that definition
our lives are book-ended
by darkness to darkness.

From being born to being dead,
a mystery to a mystery.

And the mysterious interlude
in between.

And that's okay...

Anti-Heroes, Cads and Clowns

As it has been said
the age of
Kings and Heroes
is over

It's like we now
live in the age of
anti-heroes, cads and clowns

Like we're stuck in
an Ionesco, Beckett or Pinter play

It's all just an absurd comedy
but serious shit happens
all the time

dark, sad, irrevocable events

A bad sitcom filled
with death
and the ends of things

But it's all so silly
inconsequential
and there's a laugh track

The laughs come
all the time
even at the most
inappropriate moments

There's some cosmic joke
hanging over everything
like a black, mirth-filled cloud

Riding A Cloud

Spent most of yesterday
in our new space

just a clean empty room

playing music

Sort of like riding
a cloud all day

We are the Vampires

We decided to watch
True Blood

It's about Vampires
and brain-challenged
folks in the South

It's one of those shows
you just kind of
let wash across
your eyeballs

and hollow out
your brain cavity

Sort of enjoyable
sort of stupid
sort of clever

Lots of sort ofs

I guess we all
relate to Vampires
because they are creatures
that live off of other creatures

Sort of like us

The needing, wanting, grasping
is kind of funny too...

Still my favorite part
is the opening credits.

Nasal Drip Blues

The Lovely Carla tells me this morning:
"It is the season of phlegm."

Yes, and how best to use it?

Maybe I will sing the blues...

Magical Thinking

Well, I'm finally down to this:
it will happen
because it has to happen.

I mean,
impossible things
happen all the time
i guess
proving
that they are not
truly
impossible.

Normal?

Normal!?
What's normal?

If you are
circus people

normal is

walking tightropes
swallowing swords
juggling knives
taming lions
tossing dwarfs
wearing funny pants
cleaning up after elephants

don't give me
normal

A Pug-like Existence

If you associate with
fat little beings
who can't breathe
all big brown eyes
stubby legs
and pushed-in faces

you will find pretty soon
that you can't breathe
your blue eyes
will start to turn brown
your long legs
will begin to shorten
and your face
will start to contract

blame it on
your mirror neurons