Wednesday Quickie

Couldn't sleep. What else is new?

I was writing by 5am. Nothing special. Just thoughts and an outline for a high concept film that I'd like to write a year from now if I can find the time.

No sign of the kittens. The alley is quiet and empty. Nicky left out some scraps from dinner last night for the kittens but it's not there anymore. And dinner last night was... Zankou Chicken. For $10 you get a whole fuckin' chicken with extra pita bread and garlic sauce. Best deal in Hollyweird.

Showcase left for the airport at 5:20am. He's going to NY for the Jewish holidays via JetBlue. His girlfriend woke up at 6:30am to go to work. She's in the film industry and does pre-production on a sequel to a movie that I'm embarrassed to say that I've seen the original. I should be shot.

The only time I see movies in the theatre are in cities like Las Vegas or in LA. I've seen two flicks since Monday... Bobby and Fast Food Nation. Both are depressing but I had a few laughs along the way. Emilio Estevez directed Bobby while one of my favorite directors, Richard Linklater, spearheaded Fast Food Nation, the film version of Eric Schlosser's book of the same title. Both flicks feature cameos from several big stars and had violent and depressing endings. Bobby Kennedy got whacked at the end of Bobby and you eventually see the killing floor of a slaughterhouse at the end of Fast Food Nation. I'd write two reviews, but I'm pressed for time.

Leaving for Vegas soon, that is as soon as Nicky wakes up we'll pick up the rental car, then load it up before driving to Las Vegas. I'll be there for a week hanging out with my brother and other friends and bloggers before we drive back to LA.

Last year at his time, my head was in a bad spot. My grandmother had just passed away and I was burnt out after six months of non-stop work and travel. I hated myself. I hated Las Vegas. I hated my writing. I hated losing at cards. And I hated everything poker. I'm shocked that I made it out of Las Vegas alive last December even though I had a mini-breakdown shortly after the bloggers left town. That dark cloud of depression hit me hard. And being down in Vegas is hard to overcome.

It's good to know that I'm in a much better head space this time around with regard to my writing, my career, and my relationships with friends and family. Indeed, this trip to Las Vegas is a true celebration of what I (and many other friends of mine) have accomplished in the last few years.

I met Wheaton for dinner on Monday. He's not gong to Vegas, so I made an effort to see him while I was in town. Nicky drove me out to Glendale so we could check out Damon's Steakhouse which is a tiki themed eatery that's been around for over 70 years. The have a weird house dressing for their salads and their garlic bread is pretty kick ass. The filet was better than average but their double-baked baked potatoes were the shit. I spent almost everyday this summer hanging out with Wheaton, so you can say I needed my Wheatie fix.

After dinner with Wheaton, we headed back to the apartment and watched Heroes and Studio 60 via TiVo. Showcase mentioned that he once did a scene with Hiro (the actor's real name is Masi Oka) a few years ago. They both had small bits in Legally Blonde 2 as congressional interns. And now Hiro is big time due to the success of Heroes.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up early to write and eventually went to breakfast at John O'Graots across from the Fox lot on Pico. That's where they serve the best French Toast and bacon in all of California. I came in my pants three times during the consumption of bacon. Daddy would have been proud.

On Tuesday afternoon, I ran a few errands including going to the drug store to stock up on Motrin. In California, they sell hard liquor in supermarkets and in drug stores so I wasn't shocked to see a bottle of SoCo on sale for $8.99. I bought it for AlCantHang to use as his personal "bathroom" bottle in Las Vegas. He ordered me to crack it open and do a dial-a-shot with him and BigMike last night. He also said, "You better have that bottle empty by the time I get to Vegas!"

AlCantHang consumes that in a single night. On a slow night. And I'd need at least a week to polish off one of those. I estimated that I'd be doing around 20-25 shots of SoCo this weekend. My liver is going to hate me.

Los Potheads

Nicky made Showcase and I an amazing breakfast (crispy bacon & cheesy eggs with toasted baguette slices) on a lazy Sunday morning as I watched the San Diego Chargers game and kept an eye on the Jets game online. The best part about football season on the West Coast is that you wake up at 9am to watch the pre-game stuff and by 4:30pm, all but two of the games are done.

The Jets put an ass whooping on the Green Bay Packers as I got to flip back and forth between the Chargers-Bills game and the New Orleans-San Francisco game. The Chargers game was blah, but the N'arlins game featured some excitement as Reggie Bush rushed for 4 TDs.

Showcase eventually motivated to go to the medicinal marijuana smoke shop and returned with a paper bag filled with some of the finest herbs in Southern California. Nicky and I smoked strains like Buddha's Sister and NYC Diesel in Amsterdam and Showcase was able to get us some of those delicious nuggets along with other tasty favorites such as Sensi Star and Chem Dawg. For non-pot smokers and wine connoisseurs, what we got to feast on would be the equivalent of buying ten out of the top twenty best bottles of wines in the world and getting to drink glass after glass after glass.

Showcase's girlfriend Tina came over and I took everyone out to Sunday dinner. Nicky suggested Zen Grill, which is an Asian fusion restaurant with both plenty of sushi and Thai dishes. Zen Grill was tiny with only a few tables and the workers were adorable Asian women who barely spoke English. But the food was excellent and the dishes were moderately priced.

I drank Kirin and for my appetizer, I ordered the minced chicken in lettuce cups which was served in Zen's famous hoisen sauce. Showcase ordered the table chicken satay and albacore sashimi with sprinkled roasted garlic. Those were super spicy. My main dish was the Mongolian Chicken served in a mini-wok with white and green onions, garlic, and a spicy Zen sauce with Jasmine rice. Nicky ordered an aromatic dish called the Thai Green Curry.

I couldn't sleep and woke up early on Monday to write and watched the kittens in the alley. I greeted Tina and Showcase when they woke up to start the work day. Tina had jury duty and was not looking forward to that ordeal while Showcase headed to a temp assignment in an office building on Wilshire Blvd. We waked and baked. Everyone in Hollyweird gets high before they start the day. Whether its coffee, cocaine, yoga, or jogging... folks got high before they have to drive around in their metal coffins for the remainder of the day shielding them from constant sun and smog.

While I wrote, Nicky picked up a croissants at Yum Yum on La Cienega, which has some of the best 24 hour donuts in LA. I was supposed to meet Wheaton for lunch at a cafe in Pasadena but he had to cancel because the cable guy was coming over. We rescheduled for dinner which left my afternoon free.

Nicky and I drove over to the Grove for a quick bite in the Farmer's Market at the Italian joint all the way in the back by the Gumbo place. They have the best chicken parmesan paninis in LA for $8.50. They take a while to make, but it's worth it.

I needed a pair of jeans and sheepishly mentioned to Nicky about going shopping at some point during my time in LA. She got very excited, which most chicks do when they hear the words "shopping." She suggested three or four stores in the Grove but I knew that I'd buy something at the first (and only) store I'd walk into. I hate shopping with a passion but my two other pairs of jeans didn't fit anymore after I dropped 20+ pounds. Nicky convinced me that I should open up the wallet to get a few nice items instead of gambling my cash away at the poker tables or in the stock market buying dogshit stocks like Brasil Telecom.

She eyed Lucky Jeans and as soon I took a step inside, a young mousey blonde salesperson nearly attacked me. "Can I help you today?"

I just pointed at Nicky and let the chicks discuss my situation. She pointed to a wall of jeans as I just sighed. Nicky picked up five different pairs and I headed to the dressing room. I liked the first pair I tried on and ended up getting that design. In and out in less than 15 minutes. That's how I shop. A different girl at the cash register rang me up and the exotic-looking dark haired waif started hitting on me. In front of Nicky.

"So whatchya doing later today?" she said.

"Um, I'm going home to get high then I'm gonna write."

Without blinking she said, "Cool. Good to see you're getting your work done."

"I should kick her ass!" Nicky joked as we walked out.

It's one thing if she said that before I bought the clothes, but she was flirting post-sale with a guy who forked over $100 for a pair of hipster jeans. Nice straight rich guys are hard to come by in Hollyweird. But she doesn't know that although I'm cash rich today, I'll be broke in a year, two max.

Alley Kittens

The kittens come out at random times. A few weeks ago, a stray litter of feral kittens were born somewhere in the adjacent alley to Nicky's apartment. The tiny adorable furballs rummage through the dumpster looking for food, small rodents, and bugs to feast on and Nicky has fed the saucers of milk from time to time. They are an extremely shy bunch and dart away as soon as make a single motion towards them.

The cellphone reception in Nicky's apartment in mostly average with some horrible spots. I usually made calls in the alley using the long narrow space to pace back and forth. While on one call to Jerry on Sunday morning, I looked up and saw one kitten pop its head out of the dumpster, which overflows on the weekends. I took a step forth and she jumped out and ran off underneath a hole in the wooden fence.

In the mornings I sit at the dining room table and write with my back to the window that faces the alley. I occasionally look out of the window while I let sentences unfold in my head before I type them out. That's when the kittens play around the most... early in the morning while I write.

On late Saturday morning, we went to Nick's for breakfast. I ate a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich on wheat toast with hash browns. I'm addicted to that combination. The staff at Nick's is always happy to see us because I tip them well.

"Most of these LA douchebags are too self-involved," commented Nicky. "And they're too cheap to tip."

Those are the types of people who will piss away a couple hundred dollars on a pair of jeans and have no qualms about stiffing waitresses. Plus everyone else in this town is cash poor and struggling writers and actors don't tip big out of self-preservation. It's good to be missed in two different diners in LA and in NYC like the Greek guys in Riverdale who put salt, pepper, and ketchup on every kind of sandwich.

On Saturday afternoon, we went up Pacific Coast Highway for a drive past Malibu and Zuma Beach over into Ventura County before we turned around and headed back into the city. There was a sinkhole on the southbound lane on PCH due to a watermain break and that jammed up traffic for a bit as construction crews raced to fix the hole.

I watched the end of UCLA's upset of USC before going out to dinner at El Cholo, a Mexican joint in Koreatown that has been an LA standard for over seventy years. I ordered two Coronas, the Dorado Burrito (a beef chili burrito) and a quesadilla with Black Creek cheddar and Jack cheeses. I was friggin' hungry and ate almost everything (minus he veggies). Nicky ordered a Margarita and Tres Tacos al Carbon. Yes, those tacos had bacon in them.

El Cholo was filled with plenty of snooty USC fans on their way back home from the game. On our way out, a tipsy Nicky taunted a few and shouted, "Go Bruins!"

* * * * *
I woke up at 6am on Sunday and couldn't fall back asleep. I went out to the dining room table and checked flights to Florida in March and discovered $99 one-way fares to and from LaGuardia to Ft. Lauderdale. Instead of waiting 24 hours which I try to do before any major online purchases (especially travel), I seized the opportunity to cash in on a sweet deal. The flight cost me $220 in all. I had a coupon for free roundtrip flight but decided to use that on a more expensive flight like NYC to LA. Actually, I've flown so much on JetBlue in the last twelve months, that I'm approaching my third free flight on JetBlue. That's my airline of choice and I don't fly any other airline if I'm going out to LA or Las Vegas. Luckily they have gates in Florida and I can get more points with my recent purchase.

JetBlue awards their frequent fliers free flights when you reach 100 TrueBlue points. Long flights are 12 points each way. That means you need at least four round trip cross-country flights, plus one more smaller flight to get a free roundtripper. Not too shabby for someone like me since I criss cross the country a dozen a times a year.

Last December, I had 110 points and earned a coupon, but had to use my free flight to go home to NYC for my grandmother's funeral since I was on the West Coast when she passed away. By Memorial Day of this year, I racked up 100 more points after four more cast-to-coast flights. And after I complete my flight back to NYC in two weeks, I'll be eligible for my second free roundtrip flight (third inside of 12 months) to anywhere that JetBlue flies.

After I booked my flight, I sat down and wrote for two hours. I touched up one article for a Monday deadline and mailed it to my editor... one day early. I did that twice this week and shouldn't get into a habit of turning in work early because then that's what will be expected of me. I usually turn stuff in a few hours before deadline.

One of the kittens scurried out from underneath the fence and walked back and forth as I wrote about the purplish hues of the Hollywood Hills that reflected through the smog-ridden sunset as Nicky and I drove back into the city after our drive to Malibu.

I tapped my finger on the window and the startled kitten took off and disappeared down the alley.

Last 5 Books I Saw People Reading on the Subway...

Last 5 Books I Saw People Reading on Airplanes...
1. Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
2. Freakanomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner
3. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
4. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
5. Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

Last 5 Books I Saw People Reading on the Subway...
1. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
2. The Holy Bible
3. Chronicles, Volume 1 by Bob Dylan
4. American Gods by Neil Gaiman
5. Happy All the Time by Laurie Colwin

Eleven Hours

My flight to Long Beach would have tested every ounce of patience in a Buddhist monk. I boarded my plane at 3:40pm and did not get off until 11:45pm... West Coast time. Yeah, an eleven hour ordeal in the same seat was tough to endure and I'm fortunate that I made it out alive. I took the flight as an exercise in having to deal with a 17 hour journey to Australia from LAX next month.

I could have freaked out but part of being a regular business traveler is to accept and anticipate delays, which are inevitable. I've wasted days and weeks of my life over the last two years due to random travel delays due to bad weather, mechanical failure, and breeches in security. I've figured out how to use that wasted time wisely by writing short stories, answering backlogged email, catching up with friends that I've neglected, and reading random magazines and books that I normally would not have time for.

Scheduled to depart JFK at 4:20, my JetBlue flight rolled away from the gate around 4:30. We sat on the tarmac for over three hours. Waiting. And waiting. Every twenty minutes or so the pilot would get on and explain the crappy weather situation (as every other TV in the cabin as tuned into the Weather Channel) and say they were looking into alternative routes.

By 7pm, the pilots settled on one route where we'd get to Long Beach eventually but would have to fly through the Great White North (aka Canada) in an end around over the first major snow storm of this season. That flight plan would use a lot of fuel and include a stop over in Salt Lake City, UT to refuel which would add an another 30-40 minutes to our journey. It would take a while, but we'd definitely get into Long Beach before Midnight or four and a half hours later that originally scheduled versus waiting for a few more hours on the tarmac.

The pilots actually went west along Long Island than north up to Providence, RI before making a turn to the northwest over upstate NY into Canada. We reentered American airspace over Wisconsin and Minnesota and touched down in Utah for a refuel stop.

The best part about the flight were the stewardess who all did an awesome job, despite the fact they worked for four plus hours without pay. The clock doesn't start ticking until the plane takes off for them. I knew that and appreciated the fact that they did the best job possible keeping everyone happy.

The people around me were calm and cool with the situation too. That helped out immensely because we didn't have any negative energy surrounding us. Nothing is worse than having to sit next to a pissed off salesman from Long Island or next to a whiny spoiled princess from NJ bitching every five minutes about the delay.

There was a well-dressed blonde woman in her forties and her fifteen year old Lolita of a daughter wearing tight pink Juicy sweat pants in my row. They both dealt with the situation admirably. They were screwed because they were missing a connecting flight to Sacramento in Long Beach.

The woman had a rock on her finger the size of a golf ball. She was a nervous flier and the plane got caught up in a pocket of nasty winds for several minutes after takeoff. The turbulence doesn't bother me and I actually get off on those moments of flights that make normal people sick to their stomachs. I crave the thrill. I'm not afraid of the plane crashing. I'd rather die in a plane wreck like Buddy Holly than be found face-down ass-up in the shitter like Elvis.

Anyway, the bumps didn't rattle me as I switched the channels of the DirectTV using the handset. The plane rocked back and forth violently and the woman clutched down on the handset which included my hand. I didn't say anything when she tightly squeezed my hand for the next few minutes until the turbulence stopped.

I watched the Kings-Mavs game along with hockey highlights on ESPNews. I also caught a two hour documentary on the Sex Pistols and laughed everytime I saw Sid Vicious spewing off a narco-induced tirades of obscenities at the camera crew with cuts on his face and sporting a puffy eye after a random brawl. The History Channel kept my attention for two hours as I watched a WWII piece on Operation Market Garden where Dick Winters from Band of Brothers was one of the people interviewed about that phase of the war. Somewhere over Wyoming, I watched something about Vietnam aces and dogfights involving our pilots and Migs flown by the North Vietnamese, Russians, and Chinese.

I also cranked through the entire issue of Rolling Stone and finished a book (that Spaceman gave me when I visited him in Tennessee) called Rock Springs, a collection of short stories by Richard Ford, who happens to be Joe Speaker's favorite writer. I didn't sleep at all and a half hour before we reached Salt Lake City, the toilets were filled and you had to hold it until they cleaned them out during our stopover. That sucked for me because I had been drinking beer, something I rarely do on flights these days. They ran out of water and Heineken somewhere over Minnesota and I had to resort to drinking semi-cold Budweiser.

The temperature was 49 degrees when my flight arrived in Long Beach shortly before Midnight. By the time I snagged my luggage from baggage claim and Nicky picked me up, it was closer to 12:30am. We drove back to LA encountering no traffic as Nicky explained that both her and Showcase would have gone ballistic if they had to experience what just happened to me.

Nicky made Penne Arabiata with Italian sausage for me hours earlier that we were supposed to eat had my flight been on time. I didn't even bother heating it up and ate it cold in the kitchen as I stared out into the dark alley.

In Transit

I'm writing one of those "sitting in an airport waiting to take off" posts. The airport this time is JFK on a gloomy balmy Friday afternoon. With a clusterfuck of crappy weather approaching from the Midwest, my flight to Long Beach, CA is slightly threatened to be delayed. Time to stock up on random food stuffs just in case I get stuck on the tarmac. I have a book that Spaceman gave me, Rock Springs by Richard Ford and picked up the latest issue of Rolling Stone.

Yesterday was a very positive day for me in some regards. I cranked out an article for a new poker/gambling magazine I got tapped to write for. It's one of two new assignments that I've gotten since I lost a few clients last month. I also emailed another article that was due a full day before Friday afternoon's deadline. Writing wise, I'm feeling strong and inspired.

The warm weather in NYC (20 degrees above the norm) made me laugh when I realized it was colder in LA and Las Vegas on December 1st than it was in New York City. Global warming? El Nino? I have no idea. It just is.

I'm always in a good mood on the day I'm going to see a great band, like my new favorite band My Morning Jacket. I'm fortunate that I can go see a live concert from the band that I'm listening the most these days. That's so rare and when it happens, it's magical. I was shocked to find Roseland Ballroom on 52nd Street packed with fans. MMJ had that many fans in NYC? I guess so. The Slip opened up, but only a handful of the paid audience was there to see them.

My Morning Jacket 11.30.06 Roseland Ballroom, NY, NY

Set 1: One Big Holiday, What A Wonderful Man, Gideon, The Way That He Sings, Off The Record, Just One Thing, It Beats 4 U, Wordless Chorus, Lowdown, Lay Low, Phone Went West, Dondante, Run Thru, They Ran

Encore: Tonight I Want To Celebrate With You, Nashville To Kentucky, Golden, Steam Engine, Dancefloors, Mahgeetah, Anytime

The crowd was an interesting mix of hipsters and indie rock kids. The wookie factor was very low if none considering most of the band looks like guys you bought weed off of during college. There were a few Phish kids and crunchy souls in the crowd smoking tough, but the majority of the crowd looked they just came from work and the average age in the crowd was about late 20s. Then again, it was a Thursday show in NYC. These people had jobs and all of them were packed onto the floor to see Jim James and the rest of My Morning Jacket blow everyone away for a few hours in hard rocking concert that is a meld of Wilco meets Widespread Panic.

I left feeling satisfied that I only paid $32 to see one of the best live acts on the planet and even happier knowing that I get to see them on New Year's Eve. At first glance, My Morning Jacket looks like a bunch of wookies who tried to start a speed metal band and ended up with MMJ. The band is fronted by three guys who look like Sweet Sweet Pablo and a guy on drums resembling Animal from The Muppets and a guy on keyboards who must have been the weird kid no one talked to in high school. Jim James is what would have happened to Jim Morrison if he smoked more weed and was less of an asshole and did too much speed.

MMJ played their big songs like Gideon, Wonderful Man, and Mahgeetah and the crowd was attentive and receptive.

When I walked out of Roseland Ballroom, I was in the middle of checking my messages and sending a text, when I turned the corner and headed north on Broadway. I wasn't paying too much attention and bumped into someone as we collided. I looked up and saw an extremely attractive woman with dark hair. She looked like actress Rachel Weisz. That's when she said in a British accent, "Pardon me."

She was gone two seconds later and a couple of kids who just left the show were pointing at her like, "Hey we just saw Rachel Weisz."

That's when I knew it was her. I could have copped a feel and gotten away with it. And I blew it because I was too busy texting The Joker telling about the show.

The weather was warm and I had a lot of energy so I decided to walk North on Broadway soaking in the city just before Midnight. I had my one hitter and took a few puffs along the away and watched a bunch of Haitian guys unload a truck full of Christmas trees. They were getting ready for the Yuppie Rush of Upper West Siders who decided to buy a tree this weekend.

The smell of freshly cut firs from upstate and Connecticut was slightly intoxicating. The streets of New York smelled like Christmas. All of the stores were adorned in lights and decorations, yet it was 63 degrees on the eve of December in NYC. Something was slightly off.