Cafe 50's

When Nicole and I went to the midnight show of Tron at the Nuart theater recently, she won a gift certificate to Cafe 50's a few blocks west on Santa Monica Blvd.The gift certificate expires today so we visited for dinner last night.

To avoid rush hour freeway traffic, we took my mom’s suggestion of taking the 101 freeway to the Santa Monica Blvd. exit and driving all the way there from Hollywood. The experience was like cantos from Dante.

I knew that the Hollywood section of Santa Monica Blvd. was non-stop tableaus of urban roadkill. It inspired my story “Eyelashes of the Damned”. Miles of buildings that had never been clean or new. After that was the brief Russian quarter, comic relief. My eyes perked up at the sight of Russian words and began translating for Nicole.

John: “That building is a yule- jewel- jewelry- Jewelry Store!”

Nicole: “Yes. That’s what the sign says in English right above the Russian.”

Pretty soon we were in West Hollywood. Economic quality of life looked to increase dramatically. Men roaming in pairs. Hillcrest has always been the San Diego equivalent and there is a restaurant there called Hamburger Mary’s. Turns out there is a Hamburger Mary’s in West Hollywood too.

Next we were in Beverly Hills. I recalled the elder days, the mid-eighties, when the Banana Republic store on Rodeo Drive was the only one in Los Angeles. I could never bring myself to settle down in Beverly Hills, but I like to look at it.

Finally we arrived in Santa Monica. Passed the Nuart Theater and Delores’ 24 hour restaurant across the street (I am determined to visit there someday in the middle of the night). Parking can be very difficult to find in Santa Monica.

When we finally got to Café 50’s it was night. Inside the restaurant was very lively. Café 50’s has theme nights, and last night was pajama night. For me it was Boba Fett night, because of the “Tron” association, but many other folk were wearing pajamas. Lots of 1950s paraphernalia on the walls, movie ads.

Nicole got a sandwich and I got a cheeseburger and a vanilla coke. I could only finish half of my dinner and it left me feeling like I’m been eating lead puffs. Nicole got a piece of cherry pie for dessert. She’s wanted a piece of cherry pie since she started watching “Twin Peaks” on our honeymoon. It didn’t look exactly like the cherry pie on “Twin Peaks”, but at least it was diner pie and it tasted pretty good.

blue house

This is the little house that Nicole and I have rented, we move in on Saturday. There’s nothing recognizable in the rooms in these photos except for my sunglasses on the living room mantelpiece.

It’s a back house (no, not an “outhouse”) located down the driveway behind another house on Craig Street in Pasadena, in the very shadow of the 210 freeway. More data about it soon. It seems that a little black abused cat lives there already, but otherwise we haven’t interacted with any of the other locals

Wounded Lion

A few folk wonder how I could voluntarily leave the breezy, tropical wonder of San Diego to live in metropolitan Los Angeles. Certainly one reason is the cultural life available in Los Angeles. If that doesn't make sense to you then you're probably not a fan of Los Angeles culture. San Diego has its own inherent cultural life too, but I don't understand it.

One aspect of Los Angeles cultural life that I enjoyed last week was going to see Wounded Lion on August 10 at High Energy Constructs gallery. This is the same High Energy Constructs gallery where my friend Brad invited me to see the "Boat Show" in which he had some art (see earlier blog post) and it's the same Brad who plays guitar and sings in his band Wounded Lion.

Wounded Lion doesn't play many gigs in San Diego, but fortunately Nicole and I live in Los Angeles now and we caught the show. Never been to a show in Chinatown before. Hadn't heard Brad's song "Wild Parrots" in a while. There was quite a nice crowd and we had a good time. Looking forward to being local. Walk Among Us.

goodbye cubicle

This will be short because I’m trying to learn a new job. But I have to put the last nail in my UCSD coffin.

I will miss my old cubicle and the privacy, but I gladly trade it in for the opportunity to move back to Los Angeles.

I like the movie “Quadrophenia” all right, but in scrutinizing my cubicle one might think I am a bigger fan. I thought the poster was funny because of all those scooters. It was the most interesting poster I could find locally available in San Diego and my cubicle needed something at the time.

The small framed photo of Jimmy from "Quadrophenia" (Phil Daniels, sitting between two gentlemen on a train) was nearly hidden behind my computer keyboard. The picture (framed) was a gift from Russell. He gets the occasional fit of enthusiasm in which he provides me with an image which is meaningful to him at that moment. I get the feeling he almost expects me to understand the immediate significance of such pictures without explanation. I have a grainy picture of a nameless jockey filed away somewhere that is meant to provide me with (I think) inspiration (nostalgia?), but I can’t remember why.

The L.Ron Hubbard book jackets pinned up beside the doorway (A History of Man and Handbook for Preclears) are from my Biomed library days. They amuse me. Caveman chowing down on some raw meat right off the bone. A crowd of delusionals grasping after false enlightenment (I thought it was appropriate to add the "Logan's Run" logo).

I used to dream that I would someday have a kitchen with a framed poster of "The Exorcist" on the wall. I've grown out of that dream, but I still like the image and enjoy seeing it as often as possible, including on my computer desktop.

I am furtive by nature and often try to hide my actions and purposes from The Others. A co-worker used to keep a coffee maker on top of her desk in plain view, but I was concerned that this might go against University Standards Compliance. Keeping my coffee maker hidden from view, down on a stool sitting between my desk and the bookcase, seemed the best defense against having even a harmless conversation about it. One could hear the coffee maker making coffee, one could smell the coffee. However, unless one were sitting *in my chair*, one could not see the coffee or ask me to share a little of it.

The "Cream Collon" box was just an empty pastry box that Ryan and Kourtney gave me because I thought it was funny.

The black and white poster is a picture from the movie "Eraserhead". It's a blow-up of a tiny wallet size photo of Mary X (torn in half). At the beginning of the movie Henry (Jack Nance) pulls the two pieces from his pocket and looks at just before going to dinner at her parents' house. I was so happy when I was finally able to get hold of this poster and put it up in my cubicle. One of my co-workers asked me if what another co-worker had told her was true, that it was a picture of my girlfriend. They just envy me.

An aspect of my new work space that irks me is that there is nowhere for me to hang up my John Deere tractor calendar. In my old cubicle there was plenty of wall space to put up my stickers, including my wantonly non-PC "National Rifle Association" sticker (when I was living at the Zodiac Killer apartment there was one stuck on the front window and it always made me grin). One of the only desk clutterers that I found room for at my new work space is my can of Pokka. If, however, the choice is between having enough room on my desk for my Golden Lady clock (bequeathed from a departing co-worker) or having the opportunity to work in Los Angeles, it's no contest, I'd be willing to leave both the Pokka and the Spam can at home.

Back to work at the new job, more data later...

Rock Bottom

Yesterday Kourtney, Ryan and I made our last watering hole run before my departure from UCSD. We went to Rock Bottom, across the street from campus. The substance of the conversation isn’t fit to be repeated here, I pledged that I wouldn’t. Yet I must admit a harrowing fascination for their mutual sense of humor, something which puts me in mind of a Lovecraftian universe. Listening to their japes and opinions is like watching “Wild Kingdom” (with Marlin Perkins).

Though unrepentant of daemoniac mirthmaking, if any defense is needed Kourtney will tell you, "I don't make fun of people who aren't deserving of my ridicule."

One matter I did bring up is my diminishing communication with old friends who’s lifestyles, like Ryan and Kourtney’s, tear off on paths startlingly different from my own. Now I am wondering if the increasing silence isn’t symptomatic of my recklessly broadcasting my friends’ most appalling anecdotes.

None of us imbibed immoderately at Rock Bottom, but we did eat nachos, pizza, and noxious ice cream sundaes. And for that we were all repentant.

Eagle Rock / Oxy

After staying out late at the “Tron” midnight movie the night before, we were pretty zonked out the next morning. Nevertheless we got up to go out and look at potential new apartments.


We even apartment-hunted around Eagle Rock, where, during my freshman year in college, I promised myself I would never live. Forward-thinking restaurants and coffee shops are beginning to subvert the culture of apathetic poverty there. Who knows what it will look like in a year.


While in Eagle Rock we stopped by at Occidental College. It was an overcast and humid day. I got a picture of Nicole standing on the Braca Patio, the original spot planned for our wedding reception. I was going to get a picture of Herrick Chapel, where Nicole and I has initially planned to have our wedding ceremony. Unfortunately there was a major tree suddenly missing that had stood between the library and the chapel and I lost my enthusiasm.