Brix and Trix

KFCless

2011-11-07T23:03:00.000-08:00

Sequoia time

2011-09-27T23:32:00.000-07:00

My dad and I have been backpacking Sequoia National Park each summer the last three years. After he retired he took up ultralight backpacking in a big way...and now I'm hooked.

Wow, he's 60-something and in incredible shape. I'm reasonably fit, but the elevation can take a toll on my legs by the time I'm back at work on Monday. For the record, I made it to work, but Tuesday I took a day off to let my legs unravel back to normal.

Funniest moment this trip...Dad chatting with a park ranger and asking her if she'd be interested in meeting my younger brother. "I'm flattered, but I'm really off the market now."

Stove, cooking pot, and windscreen...lite!

Back in Boston

2011-09-27T22:56:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks...but we were in Boston for a weekend for Brotherman Dan's surprise 50th birthday party. He had no idea...hahaha.

Since this was a repeat trip to the Boston area and primarily a family visit, we set aside the important historic monuments for more contemporary sites.

Stata Center, MIT - Frank Gehry

ICA - Diller Scofidio + Renfro

Swoon in the ICA

25 years later - Aeromexico Flight 498

2011-09-03T08:20:00.000-07:00

A few days ago was the 25th anniversary of the air disaster in Cerritos where an Aeromexico passenger jet and a small plane collided mid-air. The City of Cerritos hosted a memorial gathering at a sculpture dedicated to the victims of the accident.

Two of the passengers, Raul Leanos and Elva Leanos, from the Aeromexico flight were from San Jose, and I remember them both. I'm baffled (but not surprised) that the San Jose Mercury News ran an Associated Press article about the memorial that didn't mention Elva and Raul. This was huge news in 1986...what a lazy newspaper to go with a short AP article rather than provide local insight and reflection about the tragedy.

I'll build a geodesic dome and sail away

2011-08-30T20:26:00.000-07:00

Spent last weekend in Santa Fe/Albuquerque/Taos, after driving straight from Los Angeles. Too long to drive without a sleepover somewhere.

First impression...nice architecture in the Santa Fe central area. After a few hours, though, the sameness wears thin, sorta like Santa Barbara with the highly regulated theme architecture. There wasn't much time to take it in, but I much preferred the redeveloped warehouses in the Railyard District.

Now I have Beat and the Pulse by Austra stuck in my head...it was playing on the radio when I was halfway sleeping on the ride into Santa Fe.

Them Dukes were in Taos...

Good

2011-08-24T20:58:00.000-07:00

Indian Alley

2011-08-23T23:11:00.000-07:00

Goonies never say die

2011-08-22T18:56:00.000-07:00

El Chapulin Koreano

2011-08-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

He's looking after Koreatown...

Superstar

2011-08-19T05:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I picked up a cake at the Porto's Bakery in Downey and had a few minutes to stop by the to the apartment buildings bought in the '70s by Karen and Richard Carpenter. Only Just Begun and Close to You face each other on opposite sides of the street. Not sure if the properties are still in the Carpenter family, but they're in great shape.

Aside from snippets on the radio, my main memory of the Carpenters songs is from the mid-'80s when Richard Carpenter was hawking a best-of compilation (probably K-Tel) on television. When you're a kid watching those commercials every day, you eventually expect to hear the songs in a specific order. Did he get crap for those ads in those days? And look up the old footage...he looks like Mark Wahlberg.

Mas Moss

2011-08-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

I ran a red light today on the way to work. I don't make a habit of running reds, and I wasn't purposely sneering at the law, but I have to admit I'm often distracted by the roadside scenery. Luckily no cars crossed my path, and luckily no Sheriff's deputies were around.

I often crane my neck while driving eastbound on the 10-freeway for a quick look at the Petal House by Eric Owen Moss, but Saturday I finally drove in for a close up. An asset to the neighborhood.

Raygun

2011-04-29T23:59:00.001-07:00

More Ethos

2011-04-27T14:17:00.001-07:00

Ethos

2011-04-22T15:54:00.001-07:00

Claudio Ethos from Brazil working on something big on Main Street in Downtown Los Angeles. Joe's Parking finally let him use the lot so he wouldn't have to streeeeetch from the street. From what I hear, it's a gift to Tom Gilmore, who owns the parking garage getting the treatment...

Seven Apple Trees Gang

2011-04-17T02:10:00.000-07:00

My earliest graffiti memory dates back to 2nd grade at Hellyer Elementary in San Jose. The Seven Trees neighborhood was in walking distance from school, and to that point my dealings with Seven Trees involved checking out Shel Silverstein and Doctor Dolittle books from the Seven Trees Library.

I used to take the yellow school bus to Hellyer, and Dewey the bus driver would drop us off in the morning with about ten minutes to spare. One morning when Dewey let out the busload of rowdy students, I saw that a crowd of kids had already gathered on the sports field.

That's when I saw it...10-foot VST letters had been hacked out from the grass. My little mind couldn't make sense of the vandalism, and I asked this kid George (the same kid who thought his mother's name was "mom") the meaning of VST. He explained that it stood for Varrio Seven Trees, a gang from Seven Trees. Gang? At that point my point of reference for gangs was the Apple Dumpling Gang, a Disney movie with Don Knotts and Tim Conway.

Opening tomorrow is MOCA's Art in the Streets exhibition...Friday I took a look at the outdoor setup setting up...

Re-revolt

2011-04-15T23:56:00.000-07:00

In the span of one day, the text was painted over and respraypainted. I wonder how the figure to the right looked....OZA?

Oscar Zeta Acosta tribute?

2011-04-15T01:24:00.000-07:00

CicLAvia

2011-04-10T17:01:00.000-07:00

Let there be landmarked homes

2011-04-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

My parents started their own cross-country drive today. We caught up with them in Arcadia, where we ate lunch at Din Tai Fung (can you believe they have an Ikebukuro location in Tokyo?) and had that damn-good black rice in coconut dessert at Phoenix.

To get them in the spirit of all the historic sites they'll hit up, we swung by the Upton Sinclair house in Monrovia...for sale now for $1,300,000...

Sumo in Torrance

2011-03-27T23:35:00.000-07:00

At the Torrance Art Museum on Saturday night...two heavyweight sumo champs...Daishochi and Wakanoho...

Torrance has definitely come a long way since the Torrance Community Dance Group took Westwood by storm.

Riot suppression

2011-03-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

Governor Jerry Brown still can't strike a budget deal with the Republicans in the state legislature. That's California politics for you.

Without the tide turning against the public sector unions in the middle of the budget negotiations, there's a huge pro-union march and rally happening in Downtown Los Angeles today...Ozomatli is going to play a set at Pershing Square.

Looks like the city's gearing up for a showdown in the streets...they're sending in the elite Burger Brigade...

Peace piece

2011-03-22T23:46:00.000-07:00

Japanese Peace Bell in front of the Los Angeles Central Library...

Help Japan

2011-03-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

Chiune Sugihara

2011-03-16T22:29:00.000-07:00

There's a sculpture in Little Tokyo that's easy to miss or pass over without reading up. It's the likeness of Chiune Sugihara, a Japanese diplomat stationed in Lithuania during World War II. He's known for saving the lives of thousands of Jewish Lithuanians and Polish refugees by issuing exit visas to get them away from the Nazis.

I overheard some misinformed folks suggesting that the American government helps out countries in times of need more so than any other people. "And who's going to help us when we need help?"

Yes, we give billions of dollars in foreign aid, but when you look at that amount in terms of a percentage of gross national income in comparison with other countries, we rank around number 18. Number one giver...Sweden!

Well, who's to say our assistance helps anyway? We do a lot, we do what we can, and if the topic of giving has to do with Japan, I can't help but think of Mr. Sugihara and his defiance of his Japanese superiors to keep good people safe.

Stormtripper

2011-03-15T23:39:00.000-07:00

I know it's been up for "a while," but last night I finally got a photo of Mr. Brainwash's painted red sidewalk take on the red carpet...

Japan warning

2011-03-13T15:10:00.000-07:00

Civil defense siren at King and Western...

We're relieved to hear that our friends in Japan are safe.

But now with the red-alert nuclear reactor meltdown threats over there, the news that Southern California's San Onofre nuclear plant can only withstand up to a 7.0 earthquake is kinda disconcerting. I'm not an alarmist, but this little factoid is giving me pause...

2011-03-06T23:04:00.000-08:00

One night Clifton's Cafeteria lights the outline of their metal screen reveal, and tonight they're illuminating the edge of the roof...exciting stuff, folks...stay tuned for more electrical updates...

More Clifton's grill

2011-03-05T23:52:00.000-08:00

And here's a daytime view of Clifton's exterior peekaboo...

Clifton's unscreened

2011-03-03T22:43:00.000-08:00

Lookit...the new owner of Clifton's Cafeteria...Andrew Meieran...has peeled back a section of the metal screens that've obscured the building frontage for a few generations...

Represented by the lights

2011-02-28T22:39:00.000-08:00

There's a new window display at the Bert Green gallery. Not sure who the artist is, but the art has my eyeballs.

I know he had his reasons for going from a stroll-in-when-you-like storefront to an appointment-only business, but to me it feels like the neighborhood's lost something.

Hey, try to get your hands on the California Gold episode from several years back when Huell Howser paid Bert Green a visit. The fans hanging around the sidewalk and sharing stories were hella funny!

Party for your right to fight

2011-02-27T22:56:00.000-08:00

You never know when a roving protest is going to come your way...

Carl Sagan is a sticker

2011-02-27T22:53:00.001-08:00

Mas Moss

2011-01-24T00:24:00.000-08:00

We had some time to kill before lunch at Versailles on Venice Boulevard, so we took another look at the ever-evolving Eric Owen Moss projects in Culver City.

Lookin' good. But I gotta add that my brother used to work in one of the buildings...from what he says, the interior was somewhat impractical for office work.

Centennial

2011-01-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

This is where much of the new Muppet Movie was filmed. As the story goes, the muppets run the theater, but there's oil underneath and the Greedy Oil Tycoon wants to blow it up!

Hey...wasn't Scooter the nephew of the Muppet Theater owner on the old show?

Yackity Yack

2011-01-19T19:07:00.001-08:00

Eames

2011-01-18T21:51:00.001-08:00

After all these years we finally woke up and visited the Eames House in Pacific Palisades. Our friend Dave annoyed the docent by asking if there were any bathrooms, our other friend Howard annoyed him by pointing out the benefits of prefab housing, and I annoyed him by a joking about selling unlicensed/imitation Eames furniture. (I don't!)

And down-driveway is a sorta-hidden Neutra house. Nice enough if you can crane your neck. Some trivia...this is where the Godfather was edited, according to the annoyed Eames expert...

The slowest painter

2011-01-12T14:17:00.000-08:00

Ok, this looks somewhat safer than the last time I saw this fellow in action at the corner of 6th and Broadway. Too bad my camera missed the one-legged wave he flashed.

New York newbie

2010-12-12T21:56:00.000-08:00

Our Delta frequent flier miles were about to expire, so we cashed out and spent last weekend in New York. We zipped all over Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens in my first trip ever to NYC! It's taken about the entire week to recover from the minimal sleep and miles of walking, but the fatigue was worth it...

Play it safe

2010-12-01T20:34:00.000-08:00

At the corner of Broadway and 6th...

Oh, I'm pretty sure those rigged up ladders are a perfectly safe alternative to scaffolding.

Lazy Sunday

2010-11-14T17:55:00.000-08:00

Took the subway to the Hollywood Farmer's Market today. Either I really miss Japan or those Japanese tomatoes are hella tasty.

The bus doesn't have a monopoly on crazy riders. This one drunk guy said, "Just between you and me, I'm on parole now, but when I'm off parole I'm going straight to Vegas to choke out my cousin. I'm paranoid. In fact I already tried to kill her twice. The first time I passed out drunk on the wrong driveway. The second time the police picked me up and drove me away!"

Just between you and me, I'm bringing my headphones next time I take the Metro.

Portos call

2010-11-12T21:22:00.000-08:00

The 17,715 square foot Portos in Downey that opened on Tuesday was packed today. I saw the unending lines for Cubano sandwiches and cakes and knew I wouldn't get back to work in a reasonable time. So I admired the mixed-color windows and drove away. Cities of Los Angeles County...if you want to pump up your tax base and revitalize your decomposing downtowns, start wooing the next Portos location.

Broadway snake

2010-11-11T15:09:00.000-08:00

Every so often I witness a shell game happening on the sidewalks of Downtown Los Angeles. Dudes set up a cardboard box and folks (presumably plants to lure in suckers) throw down $100 bills to guess which of three Starbucks bottle caps hides the mystery ball.

Last Sunday I saw something new...caring parents pay a fellow to photograph their children posing with a monster snake. Look at the smile on that kid's face. Christmas will surely be a letdown after snaky.

Ikebukuro

2010-10-30T10:10:00.000-07:00

I have a hard time with these Japanese keyboards, so I will have to forget about grammatical niceties such as contractions.

We are back "home" after a night out with our local friends Kumiko, Yuki, and Dave, who treated us to a tasty dinner at an Italian restaurant in Ikebukuro called Salvatore Cuomo and Bar. I am no Italian food expert, but that was some good eating. Thank again! Funny thing...we met up at the new Krispy Kreme near the train station.

I think the scary typhoon has passed, so unfortunately we are flying out of Japan tomorrow.

Tokyo Times

2010-10-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

Tokyo!!!

Great day...browsing Tokyu Hands in Ikebukuro, pasta lunch, Harajuku/Omotesando/Aoyama/Shibuya strolling with our friend Kyoko, fantastic David Choe/James Jean art opening with free stuff, okonomiyaki dinner, tiny jazz bar in Shinjuku for drinks, and back at our cozy hotel.

Tomorrow is our last full day in Tokyo...gotta make it good!

Japanagain

2010-10-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

We're about halfway into our Japan vacation. It's our first trip back since we worked here in '98-'99. Great being a tourist.

We worked our way up from Tokyo through Matsumoto (castle town), Kamikochi (Japan Alps park), Takayama (nicely preserved town), Shirakawa-go (farmhouse town), and now we're resting up in Kanazawa. Six days, six cities...yeah!

The clumsy score is even...I bonked my head a couple nights ago on a not-so-overhead beam, and EzraPounded walked into the storefront window of a jewelry store yesterday. Who will prevail?

Roxanne's revenge

2010-07-31T19:45:00.000-07:00

But stuck up Roxanne paid me no mind

2010-07-27T22:49:00.000-07:00

The Roxie Theatre on Broadway isn't as high profile as the historic heavyweights like the Orpheum, Los Angeles, or the Million Dollar, but it still keeps me guessing every time I walk past.

What's behind the art deco exterior? Are the details inside still intact? Why won't the property owner(s) clean up the graffiti'd tower sign?

I noticed today that the panels were removed above one of the carved out retail spaces. I'm not sure if they will soon be replaced with another oversized sign, or if the owner is actually trying to unleash and clean up the hidden architectural details.

From today...

Compare with how it looked in February...look to the right of the marquee...

Clean slate

2010-07-22T22:57:00.000-07:00

Atlas, the prolific "Kitty Cat Tagger," was sentenced Wednesday to 90 days in County, fined $8,675.38, and ordered to put in 300 hours painting over graffiti around town.

Here's some of his stuff...

This one's from last December...

And it was just recently painted over...by Atlas himself???

Home

2010-07-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

The first time I saw BaddicusFinch emerge from the back door of the alley where I'd parked, I thought he looked just like Jim Kelly. Puffed hair, skinny body...I just felt bad. When he showed me all the white hairs that sprouted in the last six weeks, I really felt awful. My poor man has let me do this trip which was an impulse act. He shouldered my responsibilities as well as his and had time to call me several times a day with nothing but good intentions. No maliciousness. Seeing him feels right. Being home is just right.

We had falafel not too far from our building. We sat by the window and watched Downtown foot traffic go by. I love my city, I thought. I'm lucky for the super nice and super cool Baddicusfinch, I'm lucky for my brothers and sisters who called me everyday, and I'm lucky for my mom, who kept asking, "Where are you? When are you coming home?" And to my friends who clearly missed me. Bring on the heat SoCal. I can take it...inside my air conditioned loft!

Day 35: 10 min from home, caught by the man

2010-07-17T16:01:00.001-07:00

Arizona:

Woke up and packed my stuff one last time. My battered suitcase is going to be donated when I get home because I broke the handle. I felt pretty sad about it. I'm the type of traveler that takes the same things on trips and is reluctant to purchase anything new or more innovative. I've got my belt with the secret zipper compartment for bills (shh!), alarm clock, alarm watch just in case one doesn't work, super battered bandanna, etc. Anyhoo, I headed back to Los Angeles feeling strangely sad. I miss BaddicusFinch, friends, and family, but I feel like I can go on and on with this journey. My escape plan was to pivot north to the Midwest and Canada, but I'm not entirely heartless and self-centered!

Nothing too exciting happened on my last leg of the journey except for listening to Johnny Cash my whole time in the desert. I guess his tunes were the best fit I could muster with all the cacti propping the scenery. Ten minutes from home on the I-10, I was driving 80 on the fast lane thinking how great it was to finally be able to break away from 65-mile-an-hour highway decree when suddenly I saw flashing lights in my rear view mirror. It was the f-ing CHP!

The officer said something through his loud speaker, but I couldn't fully hear it because of old Johnny Cash. He made a right to the next lane (with two cars in between us), and I followed. Then he veered to the next lane. Then the other. I followed kicking myself. I hadn't been ticketed in 21 years and every since getting one in New Mexico, the bubble has burst. Cops are all out for me now. Finally the officer exited the freeway, but since I didn't have enough clearance to follow, I continued driving.

So the talk of the town is...will he send me a ticket for my insolence or is there a warrant out there with my name on it. I say he'd just let me alone. It would be too embarrassing to write on his report: Subject driver did not follow the patrol car and patrol car was stuck exiting freeway.

Day 34: Chupacabras or wild dog?

2010-07-17T15:48:00.000-07:00

New Mexico/Arizona Desert:

I made a pact with BaddicusFinch that I would be back in less than six weeks. Well, today is the sixth week, and I'm home.

Now to step back a couple days...I drove twenty miles straight from San Antonio to El Paso then from El Paso to Phoenix. I would've braved the last seven hours to L.A. but for the crazy lightning storm that disrupted traffic flow. I watched over three hours of panoramic laser light show from sunset until dark when the rain came. Heavy, obnoxious, and threatening. I'd no choice but to get off an exit and get lodging somewhere. What a great dramatic end to terrific, life-changing trip.

Did I mention I nearly hit a dog/creature that crossed the highway lighting fast? I released my foot from the gas and screamed like a MF. That was one of my biggest fears, you see, hitting an animal. I don't want to leave roadkill for the buzzards.

Day 33 - I could scale the Alamo

2010-07-14T19:00:00.000-07:00

Austin - San Antonio:

I loooove the Lydon B. Johnson Presidential Library in Austin. Very simple, informative...and free! Any guy who brings electricity to Texas is alright by me. The library was sparse in its design and approach. I like that. Since Bush had his grapes yesterday, LBJ had Walter Cronkite today. There was a special exhibit about the newsman who saw an entire century and lived to report about it. Very like.

From Austin I sped to San Antonio before the Alamo closed. I was extremely put out that the famous fort was so tiny. I could scale the walls with a couple of phone books under my feet. Ah, well, I'm sure the folks were puny back then.

I had dinner with an old friend, Alyson, a few hours ago. It's been seven years, and it was great catching up. Time goes by so fast. She's known me since I was fresh out of high school. Now I'm old and tired. Yes, I'm tired. The strain of having to make it home before a certain date is getting to me. Sometimes I feel like I could continue north and drive forever, but a pact is a pact. Six weeks of fun then go home to poor you-know-who and the animals.

I'll be home soon, everyone. I promise not to crash.

Day 32 - Bush's grapes

2010-07-14T18:41:00.000-07:00

Houston:

Just had dinner with Jeremy at Nippon Restaurant. He flew there for a two-week assignment that will end this Friday. Good company. Good fun. He even paid for dinner…hopefully not on the company card. Thanks bro.

Today was a bit stressful as I was trying to spread myself too thin. From New Orleans I drove to College Station, TX to see the George Bush Presidential Library. And from there I skedaddled to Houston to visit the Rothko Chapel and make it in time for dinner with Jeremy.

I feel like I need to cram since I’m trying to get home by Monday. My body feels wobbly from stress sometimes. Tomorrow is going to be ambitious as well...Austin for the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library and San Antonio for the Alamo and dinner with Alyson.

Anyway, Bush’s library was pretty nice and simple. Lots of pictures of 41 as a pilot and as a young politician. Not much about the Iraq War though. I think the most interesting part about the Library are the grapes. Yes, my friends, nearly half the exhibit was about winemaking. You even see mannequins in red check shirts manicuring the grape vines. Why is this you ask? Well, I looked over the list of library donors and saw a bunch of winosaurous rex. Weird, that’s all. Barbara Bush looked like Gillian Anderson when she was younger. Must be a nice family...but terrible politicians.

Day 31 - What is a crux?

2010-07-12T13:40:00.000-07:00

New Orleans:

I called Sunrise Hotel in Houston for tomorrow night's lodgings, and the man who answered said I shouldn't stay at his hotel because it's in a bad neighborhood. Cripes! The next-cheapest motel I called was America's Best Inn. I asked the owner if his neighborhood was safe, and he answered in an Indian accent, "If bad things are going to happen they're going to happen anywhere." He answered my question without really answering...so I booked the room. What the hell. I've stayed in the pits on this trip.

Why am I not talking about New Orleans? Simple...I met a very strange and kind woman who walked me to the nearby liquor store and shared a bottle of white wine with me at her place - the Tennessee Williams home - at ten o'clock in the morning. Yes, this is a very odd story.

I parked the car so that I could pinpoint the historic house. The streets were empty so I kinda got frustrated. Then a woman unlocked a side gate and I semi-yelled, "Excuse me, where's the Tennessee Williams house?" She pointed at the house she had stepped from. "This is it."

The landmark was a two-story yellow house with all the curled wrought iron railings of New Orleans. The woman with blond hair and deep blue eyes smiled and said, "Would you like to see it?" Of course I nodded like a sugar addict. I took a look at the swimming pool and the grounds. I thought that would be it, but she pointed up the stairs and I followed her. She let me in the living quarters decorated eclectically. Instrumental music played in the background. The woman's name was Emily and she was 61 years old. She asked my name and nodded as she entered her room furnished with a massive bed and red tapestry.

"I just finished this painting this morning. Her lips I did with nail polish," she said, handing me the picture. "It's St. Therese of the Roses. She's also known as St. Therese of the child Jesus."

"I was named after her," I said. She gave me the painting. Serendipity. We brought the wine back, and I nervously patted my stomach. I'm not a wine drinker...or a drinker period. My favorite drinks are root beer and water. Nevertheless I drank the white wine with a giant ice cube in the glass. She said, "Where you have drugs in L.A., we have alcohol in New Orleans. It's legal."

This is what I learned about her...her family was part-owner of the NY Mets, and they were responsible for hiring Jackie Robinson; George Bush fell off their horse; she has expensive art in the house; she's a crux (???) and a psychic; she speaks Aramaic and she spoke in tongues in front of me; she can crush her enemies and blood will flow; she called the police on her boyfriend for trying to stab her with a knife last night that's why she needed her wine; she said that she was there when Jesus was crucified and was brought to life again in 1949; she has good skin and raised her leg to demonstrate how fit it was.

Then she said that it was fate that we met. She smoked copiously while I shook my head to decline a cig. This went on for two hours. She summoned T. Williams (whom I didn't see) for me and told me to stop taking drugs...my prescription meds, I guess. Then she sat on a stool in front of me and told me to stare into her eyes. I did...for like ten minutes. She said I needed to breathe harder and louder and that I needed to smile more. She was probably right. After such intense eye-staring, she said she cured me of my bipolar disorder. Just wean the drugs slowly, and all will be well. Then she hugged me.

Now, all kinds of thoughts and emotions were passing through me. I didn't know what to believe - but she was very nice although her mood varied. When she took my glass for another serving I told her I had to go.

Well, if sitting in Tennessee Williams' living room with a very nice woman who spoke in tongues wasn't a New Orleans experience, then I don't know what is. Funny if you notice, though, the pictures I took of the house are pretty blurry.

Salooning

2010-07-11T23:57:00.000-07:00

Nice new metal signs have just replaced the oversized panel signs that hung over the King Eddy Saloon doors. Did the owners get a cue from the Bringing Back Broadway signage requirements taking root a few blocks away?

I'm not much of a drinker so I haven't been inside yet, but the folks who walk out don't look hardly as wacky as the stories I hear...

Day 30 - Help is help

2010-07-11T13:46:00.000-07:00

New Orleans:

It's raining outside, fogging up my 10th floor view. The best room I've had so far and it's on Charles Street. Sadly, I'm so desensitized to less-than-accommodating sleeping arrangements these days. The next day could prove musty with palmetto bugs.

I have long considered New Orleans to be the meat of my trip. I've been salivating for it since reading Anne Rice, Tennessee Williams, Faulkner and all that jazz, and the Big Easy has been at the top of my list for almost six weeks now. I decided to ground myself and visit the Lower 9th Ward where the displaced residents are still waiting for a miracle after Katrina.

I'm not being dramatic or bleeding-heart. Two reasons why I took a look...one is to know what the other side of the bridge from the French Quarter holds. Secondly, I wanted to see the houses built by the Make It Right foundation, started up by Brad Pitt. I like architecture and I'd heard a lot about the different architects that contributed their designs - even Frank Gehry, William McDonough, and other superstars. There's even the house designed by Thom Mayne that floats when there's a flood. Cool stuff.

I've read some blog comments about the project. One said something like, "It's some liberal wet dream with fancy shmanzy houses."

Now that I've seen the homes, interspersed with condemned and dilapidated houses, such nastiness boils my goiter. Help is help. Over a hundred fifty homes are either built or under construction - that's something at least. I understand the other complaint about changing the style of the neighborhood too much that it's becoming a bit foreign. Perhaps architects should have dug in and consulted more with the community...but lessons were learned and the designers and engineers are listening now.

I liked the houses. They have solar capacity, good ventilation, and great composition. I'd love to live in one of those if they were plopped in Los Angeles. Katrina changed everything. I wish people could have their old homes back, but they're too expensive to replicate. Once customizable mass-production techniques are hammered out, the new homes will be cheaper to build and easier on the electric bill.

In my travels so far, I make sure to walk to the not-so-nice areas part of time. I might sound like a hoity toity d-bag, but I just want to be grounded. I want to make sure I don't enjoy myself too much because life isn't always about being a tourist.

Day 29 - Laundry day

2010-07-10T14:57:00.000-07:00

Tallahassee, Florida:

Today was driving-laundry day so I don't have much to say...except that...

I realized at the Keys yesterday that most privately owned historic sites are horrible. For instance, the Ernest Hemingway house...the guides herded us in and spent three minutes per room feigning that it was too hot to stay longer, and then another group came in. The furniture is groped, the banisters are unprotected from oil from the hands of sweaty tourists. The guides told us we could roam around unassisted after the tour, thank you very much. Now give me a tip. Mark my word, that house ain't gonna last fifty years with the neglect it's getting from everyone that seemed to be connected to the house - especially the curious, like me.

On another note...remember the Richard Nixon Presidential Library? It used to be run by a private foundation so if you'd visited three years ago or earlier, you would've noticed historical revisionism. Watergate was made into something to be proud of. Something heroic for Tricky Dick. It was a good thing the National Archives took over worked to tell a more balanced story of President I-am-not-a-crook's shameful administration.

Day 28 (Part II) - Prejudice is squeezed lemon on paper cut

2010-07-09T18:48:00.000-07:00

Key West, Florida:

I just thought this is important to jot down so I'll never forget it. I went to Hemingway's Florida house because I admire his work. I avidly advocate American literature as a cut above the rest. For the relatively short amount of time literature has been produced in our country, an array of the most simple to the most complex styles and subject matter blows the cannon countries away. I've been called on this before, but I'm sticking to my guns. Yes, I love fill-in-the-blank-country literature but I loooooove American literature.

Anyway, I'm not writing anymore about that subject. At the veranda of Hemingway's house, twelve of us (all white except for me), including a guide, were discussing some of his books when a couple and their child who was about four took a tour of their own. The three were Vietnamese - I know this since I heard the man utter "du ma" which is "f-you" as far as I've been told. The husband and wife were futsin' around with the camera and loudly talking in their language, disrupting our tour.

Then the little girl skipped into Hemingway's bedroom unsupervised, and the guide castigated the mother. "Can't let your kid run around by herself," the man with a heavy New York accent said meanly. At this point I was having breathing problems from stress. The couple got the child but kept on talking loudly and taking pictures copiously. Our guide said, "Some people who don't know English talk too loud." A few snickered.

I reddened, choking at my cowardice for not speaking up and for the runaway thoughts that got the best of me. For one, the image of my mom screaming it up on her cell phone assailed my thoughts, and immediately my gut hurt. This is painful to admit, but I've always been somewhat ashamed when she speaks Tagalog like she's singing soaring opera arias in public.

When the snickering ended, I heard someone say, "Do they even know who Hemingway is?" That's when my mouth was unsewn. "Don't you know? His books are translated in all sorts of languages. I'm sure they wouldn't have paid 12 bucks just for a veranda picture."

I honestly don't know how my voice came out, but no matter, I was able to breathe again. No tip for the guide.

Day 28 (Part I) - Animal farm with Hemingway in it

2010-07-09T18:16:00.000-07:00

Miami & Florida Keys:

Today's been one of the most screwed-up-Twilight-Zone-animal-kingdom days of my life. I woke up extra early so I wouldn't get a ticket for parking at a street meter overnight. It was about sevenish when I crossed the road with my suitcase. This cabbie honked at me and fueled my blood right away. I gave my first finger of the trip and an extra vulgar expletive. Already the tension was high, and I had a feeling things were going to be either bad or really really bad.

My focus for the Keys to see Hemingway's house and Harry Truman's Little White House. Though only about 100 miles, the drive was slow because of construction and scuttling cop cars. I stopped by a gas station when I noticed a little brown dog heading for the busy intersection. The poor thing was shaking. I did my dog whisperer whistle, and slowly but surely he came bounding up to me. Extremely lovable dog which I named Petey. I arranged my back seat and up he jumped. I gave him water, a Cheez Whiz sandwich, and cheese puffs to tide him over.

Next to the gas station was a McDonald's and my little eyes spied a police car. Rolling my shoulders and leaving the dog in the air conditioned car (unknowingly unlocked!), I walked inside McDonald's and sought the law. I explained the situation and asked where the nearest shelter was. "No shelter. Gotta call the Humane Society," said this unintimidating cop. I'll call them for you so they can pick the dog up."

I explained to him that I was from Los Angeles and I couldn't stick around. I suggested he tell the lady at the gas station to keep the dog until he could get picked up. He nodded, capping his coffee. To make the story short, the lady said yes, but when the officer left, she told me her boss wouldn't allow it. We had some words. No choice but to go to the Humane Society myself. One hour away.

When I arrived I was told I had to drive Petey to some pet rescue which was one hour and a half away. By this time I was sweating like a MFer and grinding my teeth like Lou Diamond Phillips. I found the rescue place but they were closed! There was a vet clinic next to the center and they said to try a Humane Society branch that holds animals just for a little while. I drove there, and the door was open. I knocked on the desk, said, "Hello," so many times I sounded like Pee Wee Herman. I could hear dogs barking and people talking but they were ignoring me.

So I did what I had to do. I got Petey out of the car, let him inside the Humane Society office, closed the door, and bolted. I hope they find him a good home. Naturally I considered keeping the nice pooch, but for once I thought with my brain and not my heart.

As for the other animals I've encountered...Hemingway's six-toed cat spawn, lizard on the window, chicken crossing the road, and other critters I can't remember right now.

Since this is only about Petey's ordeal, I'll have a part II for the other stuff...

Day 27 - To the moon and the tan

2010-07-08T16:56:00.000-07:00

Florida:

My dream has come true. I finally got to go to the Kennedy Space Center and most importantly, the Astronaut Hall of Fame. The $41 entrance fee was an unexpected kick in the gut. The rockets and space shuttles were worth the ticket price, but the rest was a little disappointing... fun and educational for children but tedious for impatient tour haters like me. The free entrance to the Astronaut Museum was more like it. I drove seven extra miles to get there but it was worth it.

Ever since I saw the movie The Right Stuff (and later read the book by Tom Wolfe), I've been fascinated by the seven pioneers who made it possible for us to reach the unreachable. I was welcomed by the statue of Scott Carpenter and pictures of Gordo Cooper, John Glenn, Gus Grissom and all the other boys including the recent recruits I don't even know. I'm just soooo lucky to be gallivanting around the country to the places I really want to see. I have another week or so, I think, then home.

Remember Cameron Diaz' neighbor? The old woman with the dog in There's Something About Mary? Well, I saw a bunch of them today in South Beach Miami. Tons of locals and tourists were tanned...and not regular tanned, but you're-going to-look-like-a-saddle-in-five-years tanned. Even the young kids look odd and wrinkled.

I walked around the beach sweating like a squished snail. I was assessing (making fun) of people while they stared at me in my black t-shirt and maroon corduroy. Yes, I'm a photophobe, a bathingsuitphobe, and a shortsaphobe. My hangups, however, made me hotter than everyone else. Then walking toward me came BaddicusFinch's mini-twin wearing dark rimmed glasses, dark shirt, slacks...and a messenger bag! We looked at each other, smiled and kept on walking. At least we weren't alone.

I trudged about three miles in search of the down-home pulled pork sandwich that Dexter Morgan loves so much. Of course there was none to be had. South Beach was rife for tourists with money, I suppose, because the cheapest meal I encountered was $25. Never thought I'd say this, but good thing I hung a left and stumbled onto Subway. I bought a veggie footlong which I can have tonight and tomorrow.

Throughout the states I've been to this trip, I hadn't heard the sound of a car horn. And voila! Miamians love to honk and tailgate...for no reason whatsoever. So my L.A. road rage kicked up a couple times. When a driver invaded my road space, I would splatter the tailgater's car with windshield wiper fluid. Sure enough, they'd drive around me and give me the look for which I would smile and flash the peace sign.

Day 26 - Everything's Orlando

2010-07-07T13:05:00.000-07:00

St. Augustine, Florida:

Went to the ice machine to scoop a bucketful of ice...for a very special root beer. I'd been wandering the streets of St. Augustine, appreciating the narrow streets, and impressed at the many historical markers in the city. I'm a huge fan of walking, but the humid weather makes me sweat bullets. Not good to outshine mirrors.

Breaking it down, there's a fort, a lighthouse, the oldest home in America, a super old school house, and rows upon rows of shops. The shops I avoided like two-day old oatmeal. That was the problem, because the town's groomed for tourists...rich ones. Red caterpillar street cars filled with tourists wearing shorts congest the roads and give it a Disneyland feel. Ah well, I'm a dork anyway. Disney owns half of Florida, and most people like that stuff so I shouldn't complain.

My favorite part of today would have to be the alligators I became acquainted with at the St. Augustine Alligator Farm. They were more massive than I’d imagined. I once had a fantasy of wrestling an alligator's maw open, but seeing those 15-foot long creatures up close and personal killed whatever Tarzan joy I was thinking.

My funds are close to depleted so I better get a move on. I'm going to Kennedy Space Center tomorrow and drive straight to Miami. Then one or two more stops and I'll be on to Louisiana. I've been waiting for New Orleans my whole life. I’ll try to take a haunted house tour, and we'll see if I bail out on account of I'm chicken.

Day 25 - Birds everywhere

2010-07-06T15:20:00.000-07:00

Alabama:

I nixed the swamp exploration idea I had for Savanna, Georgia. Instead I turned south to tiny Monroeville, Alabama to visit the old courthouse museum with Harper Lee and Truman Capote's chronicles displayed on the walls. The stopover was apropos since 2010 is the 50th anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird, a book I first enjoyed as a kid.

The art director of the movie version imitated the courthouse brick-for-brick, but I was proud to stand in the actual courtroom where Amasa Coleman Lee, Harper’s father and the basis for the Atticus Finch character, stood up for righteousness despite the opinions of his friends. I gotta say...I'm so privileged for being able to go on this trip. I'm learning so much and appreciating the complete experience.

After Monroeville I set off for Tallahassee, Florida through a downpour. I could only see by following the yellow line on the highway. Tallahassee proved to be a multicultural town. I may sound naïve, but I was shocked to see Asians crossing the streets and international cuisine. I ate at a Japanese restaurant and the friendly waiter said, "You're not from here, are you?" I said nope. I asked him what I usually ask minorities in my travel. "Do you like Tallahassee?" "I love it," he said to my surprise. He said that he came from Korea and lived in San Francisco for a time. It was too expensive and crowded for him, but Florida is laid back. Good for him.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned the bird theme of the trip yet. Today I saw a hawk with an almost four-foot wing span so close to the car that I thought he'd say hello. On the side of the road somewhere in Oklahoma, a falcon stood like a hitchhiker, and vermilion red birds gently hound me from state to state. Also today I turned on the computer, closed my eyes, and clicked blindly on a song. Guess what played…"Blackbird" by the Beatles. Reminds me of the seer who told me that my totem animal is a crow...I don’t know, but the birdsy incidents are turning me into a believer. All I know is that when I see them gliding in the air, my mood brightens.

But enough hocus pocus. Here are a couple other places I went today:

+ The Knott House (home/office of Florida's first African American physician)
+ Tallahassee Old Capitol

Day 24 - Marching

2010-07-05T14:01:00.000-07:00

Alabama:

Driving over 60 miles along a narrow stretch of highway hadn't bothered me before - except for the trees, of course, but I'm over that now. I drove down US-80 from Montgomery to Selma - the same route the peace marchers and Martin Luther King walked in protest. At first I didn't notice anything but green. Then I was struck by the darn long distance for a walk, and I imagined blistered and bloody feet from uncomfortable '60s dress shoes. And when they reached Selma, they were beaten senseless.

Non-violence, MLK exhorted, borrowing from his (and my) hero, Ghandi. The event reminded me of the time Gandhi marched to the sea to make salt and show the British that the ocean is free, cannot be taxed, and that India was their country. I almost wished the time would go by faster so I wouldn't have to imagine the folks walking so far.

When I first envisioned my cross-country journey, my mind was ablaze with places I wanted to visit. I overloaded my itinerary, of course. I chose historical, political, kitsch, architectural, natural, etc. This was the first time I actually saw, in my mind's eye, the hardship and sacrifice of the Civil Rights activists to make everyone's future a better one. Shortly after the Selma to Montgomery marches in 1965, Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Voting Rights Bill ensuring voting rights for blacks. What MLK and scores of other supporters pushed for worked and I thank them for their good work. When I see the many museums dedicated to Civil Rights, I don't say, "Again?" I now say, "There should be more."

The beautiful historical markers greeting drivers and passengers on the highways and the Selma gateway sign are impressive. But once you hit the town, you'll get a shock. The town is literally falling apart. Buildings sit half-finished or abandoned. Houses are in a dilapidated condition. Frankly it was like a ghost town. There was even a museum about slavery, and the posted sign was a worn banner. Depressing. You'd think something of such historic value would be preserved for posterity...for our children.

This visit confirms the importance of travel and getting to know places like these. Without the history spilled on those streets, our lives wouldn't be the same. I for one surely wouldn't be driving alone through the American South if it hadn't been for the courage of many before me.

Day 23 - Joe Louis vs. Jefferson Davis

2010-07-04T13:48:00.000-07:00

Alabama:

Joe Louis is an important person in history, and not just in the pugilistic backdrop. He rallied the entire country behind him against the bombastic Max Schmeling. Hitler's boy was supposed to show the world how the Aryan race was unbeatable. Well, my mustached unfriend, Joe Louis proved you wrong. He kicked your little Teutonic ass so bad that you had your Nazis pull the plug on the radio.

Louis' life later became steeped with harassment from the government for the money he owed the Feds. Muhammad Ali called him an Uncle Tom...but then again, he called everyone that. I have profound respect for Joe Louis and that was why I drove to a grain of rice town called LaFayette, AL to look for his statue. And so there it was, larger than life with the Brown Bomber poised for a fight. Great sculpture, strong and fierce. Then I read the plaque on the back of the statue.

JOE LOUIS IS A CREDIT TO HIS RACE: THE HUMAN RACE. Jimmy Cannon, Sportswriter

I stopped by the Tuskegee Human Rights and Civil Rights Center since it was on the way to Montgomery where I would be hibernating for the night. It wasn't open as expected as it was the 4th of July. The town was nearly all black which reminded me of what that woman said yesterday...about me being weirded out. To answer her question, I went inside a Taco Bell, used their commode, and left without buying anything. Thanks a lot, lady, for getting it in my head that I stand out.

Despite the fact that today is a holiday, I got to take in some sightseeing.

+ Joe Louis
+ Tuskegee Airmen
+ Piggly Wiggly
+ Hank Williams Memorial
+ Southern Poverty Law Center (Maya Lin designed the fountain)
+ F. Scott Fitzgerald Home
+ Dexter AME Church (MLK)
+ White House of the Confederacy

Two things to discuss. BaddicusFinch suggested that I go to the Hank Williams memorial. I said, "Ew! I don't listen to country." He said, "This was before country before the stuff you hear now. Don't be a snob." He was right. I aim to have a listen when I get back.

The other was the White House of the Confederacy. Creepy, let me tell you, and what a strange landmark to see on the most patriotic day of the year. I saw Jefferson Davis standing there, tall as a god. If the war had gone the other way, I'd be in Canada now.

Day 22 - And then I went to the movies...

2010-07-03T15:17:00.000-07:00

Atlanta:

BaddicusFinch and I rather like going to presidential libraries, especially for the squished pennies. At President Carter's Presidential Library, however, not a flat copper was to be found. The museum exhibit consisted of several films, photographs, his Nobel Peace Prize medallions and various other intimate gifts presented to Carter and his wife Rosalynn. After my time at Clinton's library, comparable to boarding the U.S.S. Enterprise but with better CGI, Carter's cozy library pales in glitz and presentation. I have to say, though, out the presidential libraries I've seen (Reagan, Nixon, Kennedy, Clinton), this has the nicest, most genuine feeling of the bunch. The man's four years in office were admittedly less than stellar, but his accomplishments post-presidency exceeded those of other recent presidents. He certainly deserved the Nobel.

I was right there for the opening at 9am, so I finished early. I headed on to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s boyhood neighborhood and took pictures of his house alongside a throng of people. A strikingly beautiful woman of about fifty came up to me and asked, "Don't you feel weird?"

I said in a nice speech, "Yeah. He's a martyr and a great symbol for equality."

"No," she said. "Don't you feel weird that you're the only non-black in the neighborhood?"

I laughed. What a stupid question. "Nope. Didn't cross my mind." Then I understood that I was the only non-black visitor, but coming from L.A., being a minority was no big deal.

Next I drove around downtown taking pictures of buildings, looking for the High Museum of Art by Richard Meier and added on by Renzo Piano. There were tons of buildings I took pictures of but it was so damn hard. No parking means snap and go and my windshield was splat-obscured. When I could park, however, I took my time and lingered around the buildings.

Building overload beset me so I set off to the movies. I chose Karate Kid just because, and I was glad I did. There were about 20 people in the theater and when the action hit the ceiling all 20 of us were hooting and clapping. I though such things only happened in L.A. What a fun day so far.

On my way home, I stopped to replenish my water, bread, and ice supplies. I even found Nutella spread...yum...that will last me a while. Before hopping on the freeway back to my motel, I kept debating whether or not to stop by the Margaret Mitchell House. I didn't want to at first because she longed for the olden days when she was alive...and that Scarlet O'Hara was a greedy, selfish, alcoholic (although I really liked watching the movie when I was I kid). In the end I parked across the street from the museum/home and took a picture. I was going inside but I was afraid someone would scream at me and say, "I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no baby!"

Tomorrow I'm off to Montgomery. Everything will be closed - 4th of July. Great time explore the city. No traffic.

2010-07-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

Here's the papz waiting for the dude from Twilight...little did they know, Reese Witherspoon, defensively hiding behind a wig and glasses, had just casually walked right past them...hehehe...

Day 21 - Posteriorly defective and the long drive for peaches

2010-07-02T17:15:00.000-07:00

Atlanta:

I just heard on the TV news that a rabid raccoon attacked pets and a boy, and the good people of Atlanta are up in arms. After over eight hours of driving, I am in pain. The past two nights I've been sleeping on my stomach because my butt hurts from sitting so long in the car. I'm finally feeling fully and fiercely fatigued after three weeks on the road. My sister tells me I'd make a fantastic long distance trucker. A couple more weeks and I'll be home, probably to stay in bed for a week.

Speaking of fatigue, I set my alarm today for 6am, but I couldn't get up. Before I knew it, the time was 9:30am. I was supposed to reach Atlanta earlier and avoid the city's infamous traffic. And whaddya know? I arrived spot on to experience a two-highway bumper-to-bumper mess. Did I mention I was still surrounded by trees? I'll shut up and stop complaining now since I had a terrific dinner of bread & Cheez Whiz and my stomach's officially become a hollow cadaverous cave.

Atlanta looked pretty good in my estimation even though the cityscape was a bit hazy. Can't wait to see Richard Meier's architecture tomorrow. I stopped by downtown to dodge traffic. As I parked to call motels for the best price, a homeless guy started rapping my window. He had a stack of stained photocopied pictures of Jesse Jackson, Michael Jackson and what have you. I kept telling him I was on the phone, but he didn't seem to listen. He just kept on rapping. I lowered my window and said, "Look, mister, I'm not interested. I'm calling here," and rolled up the window again. He left.

As I was driving away, I glanced back at the man wearing a bright yellow vest and futzing around with his bicycle. For some odd reason I felt...are you ready for this again...guilty. Maybe he just wanted to show me something. Ah well, I was really too tired to think further on it.

Day 20 - Tree friend and Fallingwater

2010-07-01T16:38:00.000-07:00

Ohiopyle, PA & Roanoke, VA:

I was an hour early for my tour at Fallingwater so I logged onto my Facebook account. I saw a picture of my brother's feet with the caption..At the ER...back trouble. I felt bad for him so I set upon the woods to commune with the trees that have been bullying me lately. It was a peaceful moment with young sapling trees swaying to the mountain breeze. At last I embraced my tall green friends again.

And that's what Frank Lloyd Wright was all about...love of nature and breaking bread with the surroundings. Fallingwater was indeed shockingly original in every respect. He sited the house foundation on a waterfall for crying out loud. The interior details were almost perverse in their simple grandeur. I'll let the pictures do the talking as I haven't the vocabulary to describe the place.

After my tour I headed for Roanoke, Virginia. With nearly six hours of winding back roads filled with foliage, I kept thinking that if I had a flat, I wouldn't be able to describe where I was. I'd only seen a few cars here and there... I passed by logging and mining areas and basically more trees.

When I finally reached Roanoke, I was extremely tired and hungry. I hadn't eaten real meals in two days. The downtown area reminded me of Orange Circle in OC, only bigger. I decided to eat at a Mexican place called Alejandro's before checking into a motel. Had mole, black beans, and rice. Pretty good but not quite sweet enough. It was a risk eating Mexican food in far-flung rural settings but this one turned out none too shabby...not the intolerable Mex meal I suffered in Wichita, Kansas last autumn.

At Rodeway Inn, I put my foot in it. A man in front of me was asking if the motel shuttles people to the convention which was pretty much across the street. The robust black lady behind the counter shook her head. "Lazy," she said when the man left at which point the proprietor, an Indian guy, came to the front desk and asked me, "Are you a Jehovah's Witness?" My eyes bulged. "No! Are you?" was my rude reply. With that I heard a fellow clearing his throat behind me and somberly asking, "Can I borrow an ironing board and iron?"

Apparently there's a Jehovah's Witnesses convention tomorrow across the street. I felt like crap. That's just like someone saying, "A Democrat! Hell no. I'm Libertarian." Sometimes I'm a prejudiced idiot. Sorry neighbors.

Day 19 - Glorious corn fields and the odd Kentuck Knob

2010-06-30T13:47:00.000-07:00

Pennsylvania:

Feeling better today. I hardly ate anything the past couple of days so as not to aggravate the squigglies in my stomach. My sour outlook was sugared by this kind motel lady I called to reserve a room. She said she loved me and her name was Lilyanne. Couldn't wait to meet her. I sped through Lancaster County and enjoyed watching real Amish folk doing their business at highway pace. No more photographs this time. My improved health made me curious again...the point of this trip. I noticed the lush corn, the wide blue sky, the blue flowers on the roadside, and I realized...there are hardly any trees in the county. Open space and fields of crops. It was great to be alive.

I made it to Markleysburg, a puny highway town. I had to stay in the vicinity because I have reservations for tomorrow to see Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater. I passed Lilyanne's "Inn" and kept on driving. Traveler's Inn consisted of two white trailers and a small house next to them. I just couldn't do it so I fled like a cowardly chicken. I found another inn but I think they're mostly cabins owned by Menonites. The best room I've had so far on this trip.

I headed on over to the "other" FLW house in the area, Kentuck Knob. Very nice little house, famous for its hexagonal skylights and triangular patterns. To be honest, my regard for the architect dropped a notch. Granted he was 86 when he worked on this house, but some of his ideas didn't make sense. You have to sidle sideways into the narrow hallways as he believed hallways are places you walk through and are unimportant. The closets were almost to the door because he didn't believe in attics and basements for they create cesspool for junk. I can understand...I hate junk...but I think he could've done a better job designing the interiors. I mean, there's no way an obese guest could through the hall. Just because genius architect was puny...

Anyway, Fallingwater, his masterpiece, is in the pipeline for tomorrow. Maybe the greatest architect of his time...as he dubbed himself...will reclaim Notch 1.

My two bits...

2010-06-29T23:09:00.000-07:00

I can't wait for the Two Bits Market to open up. Tenant improvements are still underway in an Alexandria Hotel suite that opens up to 6th Street. Sure, I know I could pick up fresh produce at one of the local farmers' markets, but I'm never close by during their limited daytime hours.

So my message to Two Bits...when you're up and running, please wait for me before you close.

Day 18 - Ominous trees and Lego Mark Twain

2010-06-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

MA, CT, NY, PA:

Oddly enough for such a fantastic trip, I'm kinda down. Perhaps it's because the sashimi I ate last night poisoned my system. Lovely meal until two o’clock in the dead of night found my insides spinning on hyperdrive. I slept not at all.

Mark Twain’s home perked me up a bit in Farmington, Connecticut. Since we couldn’t take pictures I took pains to memorize the layout, contents, and details of his quirky house. The guide said that Twain had a habit of writing down notes on the margin of the books he’d read. A Jane Austen margin said, “If she weren’t already dead underground, I’d beat her with her shin bone.”

I like Twain. He’s funny, simple, yet complex and subversive. When I studied at Oxford a professor asked who the best author that ever lived was. Everybody said Milton, Shakespeare, or another usual heavy hitter. I said, “Mark Twain,” for which I heard sniffs, guffaws, laughter, and eventually, "Plebe.” Whatever...I liked and still like old Sam. I stopped by the Noah Webster House and a couple of other places I can’t remember right now, but I hurried off to Bridgeport to check the Barnum & Bailey Museum. While there I began calling for motel prices because I was losing steam. I was eating cheese puffs in lieu of non-existent crackers. Connecticut is a pretty wealthy town, and I couldn’t afford to stay.

I drove onward through New York and finally to Pennsylvania's Amish country. By then I was really ill, and the address I'd set on my GPS turned out to be the wrong one. I was sent to a famous Amish barn in the middle of nowhere. I called a motel called Lucky 7. A South Asian guy answered and said a room was $50. Even in my state I balked and replied, “$50? We’re in the middle of nowhere!” So I hung up.

No motels in sight until I spotted Relax Inn. The front desk clerk quoted $50 rates. I said, “Are you kidding me? That’s a bit too much for this place don’t you think?” He smiled. “You called before?” he asked. Then it hit me. I was arguing with the same guy twice. “Hey, this is Lucky 7 isn’t it?” "Not anymore. That would be $50 plus tax.”

I don’t feel well and I don’t know why I came to Amish country. Most of the gag shows are probably Menonites in Amish duds. Reminds me of when Chief Joseph had to don his ceremonial outfit just to be chased around by Wild Bill Hickok in front of a paying crowd. But I perked up when I took a drive and suddenly saw a horse and buggy racing a Geo Metro.

And yes, I will admit to my shame…When I was in the middle of nowhere looking for that barn, there emerged an Amish man riding a team of horses with his family. They looked so authentic and magnificent that I reached for my camera and clicked a shot. I immediately felt like puking. Poor people. I really don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow. See the sideshow and be a heel or drive somewhere else altogether.

Day 17 - Holiday holiday

2010-06-28T19:54:00.000-07:00

Newtonville, Massachusetts:

This is the most laid back day I've had in over two weeks. My brother Ray took the day off to spend my last day in the Boston area with me. Between him and Dan, they'd fixed my car, arranged my junk in the car, fed me like the mayor of hungrytown, got me some dry ice, penny squished with me, and took me out for ice cream. I love those guys!

I watched Neil Jordan's new film, Ondine, at Dedham. I usually can't stand Colin Farrell...especially when he plays an American and his Irish brogue surfaces like swamp bubbles. He was pretty decent in this movie - because he was playing an Irish man. I won't kill it for other folks who might/should watch this film; I'm just going to say that it's an adult version of The Secret of Roan Inish.

My plan had been to go to Pennsylvania tomorrow from Boston, but Frank Lloyd Wright screwed me up. Fallingwater in southwestern Pennsylvania is closed Wednesdays of all days. Ah well. Plan B...I'm headed for Connecticut bright and early to see Mark Twain's house, and I'll stay overnight in the Land of Steady Habits.

Day 16 - Courtesy driving in MA & Museum of Bad Art

2010-06-27T18:48:00.000-07:00

Boston:

With already two needless stops on this trip, you can understand that these days cops give me the creeps. They're always at the back of my mind like food when my stomach's empty...but in this case, dog food. I'm not knocking all cops. Of course there are many good officers out there. I just haven't encountered them in the last two weeks on the road. I've always appreciated the Bostonian way of flashing headlights to warn oncoming traffic of a speed trap coming up. Class. We should have something like that in L.A. We should have each others' back.

Boston's always a pleasure to visit. My brothers are here and there are always lots of things to do. We did lobster and kitsch this time. I'm going to dedicate this post to the MOBA (Museum of Bad Art) and let the pictures do the talking.

Today's day...

+ Raleigh Flea Market
+ Fenuil Hall
+ Auto Show
+ Flat Penny Hunting
+ Giant Hood Milk Bottle
+ Building Sighting
+ Lobster Fest
+ Lots More...

Stonewall Jackson

2010-06-27T01:24:00.000-07:00

I thought the shouting had to do with the USA vs. Ghana World Cup game this afternoon, but it was actually Michael Jackson fans yelling, "Justice for Michael!" as they marched the streets of Downtown Los Angeles.

Day 15 - Three toll roads add up and it ain't purty

2010-06-26T19:07:00.000-07:00

Boston:

Cleveland wasn't part of the plan. After all, Ohio isn't even in the south, but what can I do? Superman. Gehry. I'd say it was worth visiting a city I could see myself living in...for a while at least. I was going to hang west and head to Chicago but BaddicuFinch put his foot down. Chicago was OUR future trip so keep out!

I arranged my music, water, and cheese puffs on the passenger seat for easy access. I knew the drive to Massachusetts would be grueling, and there was no way I was going to stop at food joints and waste time. Ten and a half hours, boooyyyyeeee. I took the I-90 passing through Pennsylvania and New York. I was charged three times for tolls totaling $28 - my precious motel money. Good thing I'm crashing at Ray and Dan's for a couple of days.

I could've made the trip quicker but for the speed traps every twenty miles or so. Just go over five miles and they snag you. A movie played in my head during the trip. This time my original was a western with a young Tommy Lee Jones. Great mental-movie moments. I've always thought Jones should've starred in more films in his youth.

With the movie waning and Modest Mouse thudding too loudly in my ears, I started scanning the road for deer, squirrels, and whatever creatures had been squished on the road. I must have seen over forty poor animals on the highway. The worse were the baby fawns. They looked like they were sleeping. I prayed that I wouldn't hit anything - not one creature - because I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

I reached Newtonville, just outside Boston, at 4pm as predicted, and Ray and Dan were pulling up as I arrived. Happy times. Dan, a caraholic, checked out my Clive, unhappy about the number the New Mexico cops did on the hubcaps and bumper. Eventually we went to a couple of thrift stores and ended up having dinner with Adrienne, Dan's mom. Met Dan's cousin, Marilyn. Very nice woman. Anyhoo, I'm super tired so I'm going to stop my ramblings. Good night!

Day 14 - Ode to Siegel and Shuster + Little Ralphie

2010-06-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

Cleveland, Ohio:

Drove through Cincinnati, Columbus, then to my destination, Cleveland, OH. I suppose I've taken liberties and strayed from my 'Southern' route. Since I'd already planned to visit my sister (who leapfrogged to California for a week) in Maryland and my brothers in Boston, I thought I might as well visit the Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster sites. They're the creators of Superman and we can thank them for ratcheting up forgetable comic books into something out of this world. Jerry Siegel's house was intact, but unfortunalely Schuster’s home had been demolished. Man, if it were up to me, every single toilet stand and phone booth they ever used would be on the National Register of Historic Places.

I went down to a public clock tower dedicated to the pioneers of the Golden Age of Comic Books. The tower turned out to be a hangout for the down and out. A man asked me, “Do you want music CDs or movies?” I couldn’t hear so I asked him twice to repeat himself. “No thanks. I’m here for Superman,” I informed him.

He gave me a blank look, and I pointed at a bronze plaque commemorating the creative partners. “Superman was created here…in your city!” I said. He followed me while I snapped some pictures. An old man sitting on a bench and missing at least five teeth said, “Ain’t you never seen that thing there about Superman?” My friend shook his head, still amazed.

He turned to me and said, “You know, I’ve lived here all my life and I never knew that.” “You should be proud. We don’t have anything like this where I come from,” I said sadly.

Another worthy venture today was the A Christmas Story House Museum. The owner/curator bought the original house from eBay and restored it to all its glory. We toured the house, which accurately recreates the interior shots that had been filmed on a sound stage. And as a surprise, Ralphie’s little brother was on hand, looking like a man now.

Long drive ahead tomorrow, so I'm cutting this short...

Today's Hits...

+ Jerry Siegel’s house
+ Superman Clock Tower
+ Peter B. Lewis Building by Frank Gehry at the Case Western Reserve campus
+ Drove around downtown Cleveland – awesome
+ A Christmas Story House Museum
+ Terminal Tower

Day 13 - Muhammad, tell us more...

2010-06-24T14:11:00.000-07:00

If you know me you know that I'm an Ali fanatic. I read, watch, and listen to anything even remotely related to the Greatest, so it's only right that I make my pilgrimage to his birth city. What a superb site for the Muhammad Ali Center, which aims to teach children to dream big and pursue their goals to the finish line. Very noble indeed.

The exhibits, mostly fight interviews and such, were a treat overall, but they withheld his bad underpants. I'm may be a big fan, but I believe the unfiltered truth should be told about Ali. Although the museum disclosed that Ali didn't throw away his Olympic metal in the Ohio River after getting ejected from a dinner liked he'd claimed for years, but other exagerations and blemishes were left unspoken.

What I mean to say is that some of his most famous quotes like, "I ain't got no quarrel with them Viet Cong. They never called me a 'nigger'," were spoon fed to him by Elijah Mohammad's people. He also turned his back on Malcolm X, a good friend, when X began talking about Elija's transgressions.

Muhammad Ali preached a lot about the uniqueness of women and how respect was owned to each and every one of them yet he flouted mistresses many times with several of his wives. I could go on and on but I won't. I'll just mention Joe Frazier. The man was so ill treated by Ali that even I shudder. Ali called him Uncle Tom, made fun of his dark complexion & his nose, and mockingly bandied about a rubber gorilla. While Ali later admitted that he went too far with his taunts, he never formally apologized to Frazier.

A frank discussion of these issues would make kids realize what not to do. A little openness would also humanize Muhammad Ali, who is a legend - but a flawed one.

Day 12 - Squatter dilemma

2010-06-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

Louisville, Kentucky:

Just had my first meal of the day at the Waffle House adjacent to my motel. I can't tell you if the food was good because my eyes were too busy drinking the inhabitants of the restaurant. There was the haggard waitress, shirt and apron stained like my windshield after a rain of insects. The cook could stand to eat himself with his emaciated body and curved back. Then there was me, non-white with pustules on my face after breaking out in recent days, and a woman who trudged in five minutes after I did. The customer was bleached blonde but bordering on the yellow on some parts. The left side of her face was an angry purple, blue, and pink. She'd been beaten.

I was at the saddest place on earth. You know the famous image of Elvis, Monroe, Dean, etc. hanging out at a diner. Well there we were, the polar opposite of the poster. I've taken pains not to photograph scenes of poverty and distress in my Southern journey. I don't want to present them like Depression pictures so people can say, "Oooh! Check out how the other half lives."

I'd surely like to. I'd taken enough of that kind of pictures in the countries I'd been to and felt ashamed afterward. The farthest thing from my mind is to depict certain people as pathetic, poor, ill, whathaveyou. I'm not a photojournalist. I'm nothing. We all know how inequality razes our country. We all know that blacks and Latinos get the worse end of it. But for me to take their picture just to have something controversial later to talk about with friends, then traveling through the South would leave me guilty.

I'd like for people to show their bruises on their own terms.

Day 11 - Monkey trial's still bringing up bananas

2010-06-23T13:04:00.000-07:00

Dayton, Tennessee:

Folks might say I made a bad decision in driving 287 miles to a little town close to no one has heard of to check out a brick courthouse. I began to think the same as I came across mustached men smoking and looking soused in the neighboring towns, but maybe that’s just me falling back on my preconceived notions. But on Tuesday I continued the drive to Dayton, the site of the infamous 1925 Tennessee vs. Scopes court case sometimes called the Scopes Monkey Trial.

To refresh your memory, it was about a high school teacher indicted for teaching Darwin's theory of natural selection in defiance of a Tennessee ban on teaching evolution. William Jennings Bryan, a three-time Democratic presidential nominee, joined the prosecution, and his earnest knowledge of the Bible frequently ended in soliloquies in court. Then there was my hero, Clarence Darrow, a man for humanitarian causes, women's rights, and civil liberties, and the attorney for controversial defendants such as strikers and even accused killers.

When I saw a statue of Bryan outside the courthouse while a similar monument to Darrow was conspicuously absent, I laughed. Of course they wouldn’t erect a statue of the man who, point by point, blew up the prosecution's attacks by using scientific method and reason. Anyway, I can’t say enough about Darrow. I’d drive anywhere to see where the great man debated in the courtroom still much preserved. I’m hoping in the next couple days to find his birth home somewhere in Ohio. And someday I'll go to Chicago and visit his museum/home that's supposedly haunted. That would be icing on the Beard Papas.

On a frustrating note, I was stopped by the police Tuesday when a sleek black SUV flashed me over to the shoulder with the blue lights. I swear, this city has the neatest cop cars. Anyway, same old same old. He had nothing on me. The officer just went straight to the point. "Do you have firearms...cocaine...marijuana...meth, etc." He let me go not even five minutes later. The combination of my milk truck Scion and California license plates is going to get me in trouble deep before this trip is over.

This whiskey is 60 years old

2010-06-22T23:56:00.000-07:00

EzraPounded is gearing up for some quality Kentucky time tomorrow. She called to tell me that her motel's Wi-Fi connection is down, and the management claims it will be fixed "shortly." How long and how many times do you think they've made that promise?

I came across this bottle of Biltmore Bourbon ("Made Exclusively for the Biltmore Hotel, Los Angeles, California") when I wandered the lobby of the Pacific Center after a late night run through Downtown Los Angeles. It's displayed behind glass along with metal doodads from the past.

Day 10 - Historical markers

2010-06-21T18:17:00.000-07:00

Memphis:

I took in lots of things today that I won't bore you with. I'll just list them in a second. I just want to say that Memphis has so many historic sites bursting in their scope. A good share of them are music-related, of course. Blues...and later, white blues...dominate this city. Their histories are all kept in excellent condition with the exception of Slave Haven, a stockyard once owned by Jacob Burkle, who secretly protected runaway slaves on course with the underground railroad.

I expected something glorious. The marker on the streets had nice arrows pointing to the house. When I got there, I had to do a double take. The house was in disarray, there were metal bars on the doors and windows, and their sign was a bad fit for such a weighty subject. If anything, this historic home surpasses the historic importance of Graceland, but the dollars just aren't there.

My Today List...

+ Sun Studios
+ Pyramid Bldg
+ Orpheum Theater
+ Slave Haven
+ Giant Dog
+ Graceland (eeesh! expensive, too!)
+ Riverboat ride
+ Confederate Park (I just had to see this one)
+ Dinner at Beale Street (Like 3rd Street Promenade but with really good musicians)

I'm exhausted so I'm going to shut up. Bright and early I'm driving to the other end of Tennessee to the old courtroom from the Scopes Trial, in which Clarence Darrow defended the high school biology teacher who taught evolution in school. I'm a Clarence Darrow fan, so I'd better get some rest to properly get my admirin' on.

Day 9 - Neck is aching...boo hoo

2010-06-20T17:49:00.000-07:00

Memphis:

What an exhausting day. The welts on my arms convinced Motel 6 of the error of their ways, and the front desk chief offered a two-night refund. I kinda felt bad, but I sure don't want anyone else getting eaten by bugs. I also wrote corporate and let them know that if they'd like to see pix of bugs near the toilet and angry bites on limbs, just let me know.

Around nine I made it to the Crater of Diamonds State Park that Ray had told me about. Would've gotten there sooner if the GPS hadn't sent me to the heart of the woods for my second off-roading adventure. The drive from Little Rock took two hours and the temperature was already pushing 100 degrees. On the field it spiked to 107. I rented my gear and watched the ranger explain how to find diamonds and to spot fakes. I toiled and sweated for hours but found nothing but pebble. Sorry, Ramon. You don't get your 10 carat.

Drove five hours to Nashville after my sweat bath and arrived at the Civil Rights Museum just before closing. The museum occupies the old Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, and a wreath had been placed on the guard rail in front of Room 306. For such a sad subject, this was an excellent memorial - especially since the MLK Memorial Foundation converted the building across the motel where the shooter was positioned into an extension of the museum.

I loved Witness, the film they showed about Reverend Abernathy's firsthand account of MLK's last moments. Abernathy felt he had been with King for a purpose - to be a witness to his death so no lies could be perpetuated...like a lover murdered him or his allies plotted against him. Very powerful. I'm super tired though so I'm going to stop. Tomorrow, Nashville. Exciting...

Day 8 - Complaint day...I'm allowed, right?

2010-06-19T15:42:00.000-07:00

Little Rock:

Woke up with itchy bumps on my thighs and arms. I wanted to cry, and I still have one more night in this dunghole that won't refund my money. Just think of India, I told myself. At least there's no resident rat in the bathroom, and I'm awfully grateful I brought flip flops. I dabbed acetone on every nook and crook.

Before heading out to explore the city, I stopped by the motel office and complained again and showed them my arm bumpies. I told the front desk manager that serious health violations had been breached and I wouldn't have skin if I stayed another night. The manager capitulated and moved me to a room with wood floors. Springs are popping out of the bed, but the room is clean. Later I told my brother about my ailments, and he said I can't visit him in Boston until I go to a laundromat and wash every last article of clothing.

The city was a ghost town this Saturday. I went to Little Rock Central High School, site of the desegregation showdown, and nobody was there to bother me. I thought of the Little Rock Nine walking the gauntlet, and the 'throat hurt' came over me. Went to the capitol and walked slowly up the steps of the capitol building afraid that if I went any slower, my sweat glands would burst and splash the steps like the senator from X-Men. James, my GPS, was annoying me so I switched him off and cruised the city from boulevard to boulevard. I stumbled upon the Governor's Mansion and explored an ancient cemetery...an agreeable place with a calming vibe.

At this point I was really shaking - I mean New Mexico State Police no-no shaking. I spotted Kanpai, a Japanese restaurant. I sat down, excited about eating rice, when I noticed other customers glancing at me with sadness in their eyes, like they wanted me to join their table. Geez, I have no problem eating alone. The server interrupted my thoughts as he handed over my bento box. He let me know that he's Chinese Indonesian. "They can't tell the difference." The rice was a bit hard and the food was no Japanese grub, but it was manna.

My skin bumps were itching hard. On the way back to the motel, I saw a girl with a nice smile dangling a sign: Free Car Wash!!! My car was filthy and the tires were white from the other day's off-roading. Her dad, brother, and sister were waiting for me with their trash can barbecue hissing from rib fat. No, I didn't try the baby backs. Free, by the way, was ten dollars in the end.

So tomorrow before I head out to Tennessee, I'm taking my brother Ray's advice and going diamond mining at Crater of Diamonds State Park in Mufreesboro, AR. Hope I find me some diamonds. Our agreement...Ray gets to keep my loot since it was his idea.

Day 7 - Clinton overkill...thank goodness for okra

2010-06-18T17:13:00.000-07:00

Arkansas:

I had a great sleep in Oklahoma last night despite the Celtics loss. When I turned off the lights, little stars glowed from the ceiling just like in my brother Joe's old bedroom. Good omen. I was on my way to Fayetteville and Little Rock to do the Clinton thing. First stop was the Clinton's 'wedding home' in Fayetteville. The curator was a terrific woman whose name I've already forgotten. Some memory since we talked for over an hour. The little museum was sparse...just pictures and a video room where I watched old campaign commercials from the 1970s. It was so interesting that I was forced to use the Clinton bathroom and inflict some damage.

The woman - let's call her Charisma since she was so charismatic - gave me a passport so I can go to every nationally registered Clinton building/home/toilet. Get this...they call the pilgrimage "Billgrimage"! MF! Here are some of the places:

*Birthplace Museum (Hope AR)
*The Boyhood Home (Hot Springs, AR)
*First Home of Bill & Hillary (Fayetteville)
*The Clintons' First Capital City (Little Rock)
*Home of Clinton's Mustang Convertible (Morrilton)
*Presidential Cabin (Ponca)

The list goes on. I arrived in Little Rock and went to the Museum Store where I didn't even browse. I just pressed my pennies. The neat thing about the town is, the city ferries people from the hip River Market District to the Presidential Library. At this point, however, I was Clintoned out.

The gorgeous rust colored bridge overhanging the Arkansas River that stood within feet from the Presidential Library and the great modern building designed by James Polshek absorbed my attention despite the heat and the fact that I was wearing black. After a time I sighed and successfully passed through an x-ray security checkpoint to get inside. I cracked a huge smile knowing I had innocently sneaked inside the heavily guarded place with mace in my pocket. When asked to join the group by the guide, I declined said I had ADHD. I toured quickly, sick of the president I admired. I was searching for Monica Lewinsky's dress for I heard a rumor that the Library had it. But wouldn't you know it, the blue dress wasn't there. Sheesh.

Bummed, I lit out of there quick. Since I'd read that Arkansas had some of the best barbecue in the country I placed an order. I don't know if it's because I'm more-or-less a vegetarian or not, but the meat tasted piggish. Well, at least I tried it. BaddicusFinch would've loved the fried okra.

I booked a room at Motel 6 thinking it was fine...until I saw six dead little cockroaches (?) and a giant dead spider in the toilet! The management wouldn't give me my money back. Said they'll sweep them away tomorrow. Eeee. It's the Clinton Effect.

So today was a top day with very kind folks at each turn. A man offered to take my picture in the replica of the Oval Office, but I said I was a photophobe and that I was lame. He said kindly, "It's not lame. My pastor had the same fear but from looking at mirrors."

Tomorrow I'm going to the historic Little Rock High School. I can't wait. Hello Penny and Toby.

It's oh so quiet

2010-06-18T00:16:00.000-07:00

I'm fairly indifferent to basketball, but when Mayor Villaraigosa announced that Los Angeles residents should stay away from Downtown tonight, I was even more compelled to check out the area around Staples Center.

Dudes were breaking in the street, a guy strutted around with a street cone on his head, others tossed cones at passing LAPD squad cars, drivers who didn't avoid the crowded intersections risked getting their cars rocked, some knuckleheads yanked a tire with rims from the back of a stalled pickup truck, I got a bear hug out of nowhere, and a homey flipped me off from atop a street sign.

Maybe Villaraigosa should keep quiet next championship...or hide like these trash bins...

Day 6 - Bison's my best friend

2010-06-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

Bartlesville, Oklahoma:

Originally I only wanted to go to Oklahoma because Bartlesville has the only FLW skyscraper anywhere. I was browsing through my research and came upon Tallgrass Prairie Preserve thirty miles from my destination. I read about thousands of bison and birds and an impulse came over me. I went to the town of Pawhuska, but on the way there I realized that I never knew what backcountry driving was all about. One-lane roads, signless turns, folks who thought I was Cherokee, folks who mistook me for Kiowa.

Finally my GPS gave up. Couldn't find the way to the Preserve, so I dropped by the Pawhuska Chamber of Commerce. A lady with exaggerated cotton candy hair said, "You're gonna have to turn left where that drugstore is then keep going." When I asked how long, she smiled. "Until it looks like no civilization anymore."

I drove that road over twenty miles until I realized I was offroading on dirt and gravel. I closed my eyes and prayed my little Scion wheels wouldn't burst. But my little Clive made it, thank goodness. I knew I was at the right place when a dozen bison barred my way like they were gangsta. One looked me in the eye sideways and I stared back without blinking. When he gave way, the rest gave way. I have to say that seeing bison in the wild gave me the good chills. It was such a great magical feeling that I get the tinglies just writing about it.

Tall prairie grass parted the dirt road. When I'm manic, I feel happy - but it's not really happiness. It's something less. But being at the reserve brought such pure joy - something that we experience mostly in childhood. I thought of my sister and my brother with whom I've shared the most joyous moments in my life - like our Nagcarlan vacation, the impromptu party they threw me when I was six, and watching episodes of Little House on the Prairie and loving every minute of it. I am so grateful to have persevered and visited this place. I know now that every experience makes me stronger and the memories conjured while driving endless miles cure my busy mind a little.

After the Preserve I drove to Bartlesville to look for FLW's concrete and copper Price Tower. It was absolutely great. I was humbled to see it. But it didn't hold a candle to super bison that nodded to me. I love them so.

Day 5 - Tilapia, Gumby, and Bonnie

2010-06-16T13:27:00.001-07:00

Dallas:

Staying an extra day in Dallas to unwind my muscles and catch up on sleep – which is good because I’m going to be driving 7-8 hours to reach Bartlesville, Oklahoma. Looking forward to seeing Frank Lloyd Wright’s only skyscraper and other fun stuff beside...all payback for my failed attempt to track down Wright’s Dallas Theater Center. It was in a wealthy neighborhood with private parks, and if I did pass his work, trees and hedges obscured it.

Today was still a great day. I lucked out when I set off to find two hard-to-locate places of interest. I set off early in search of a 38-foot robot sculpture which didn’t exactly have an address. I was driving around downtown looking at the sites when I saw this gleaming silver Gumby hanging low, playing the guitar, surrounded by metal birds. Awesome to behold.

The next event was seeking out the gravesite of Bonnie Parker (of Bonnie and Clyde fame). Again this should've been a terrible grave to find since the only Internet direction was...Drive inside, you’ll see a fork. There’s a hedge in the middle. She’s on the other side of the hedge. Thankfully I saw some stragglers drifting about, and I knew I'd found the resting place of one of the most violent criminals that ever was.

Again I have to mention how low-key drivers are in Dallas. No aggressive L.A. drivers. No honking. No road rage. Even I fell into the lull of driving under 40 mph. The locals I’ve met have been very gracious. I drove around residential streets, some of which give the Platinum Triangle of Beverly Hills/Bel Air/Holmby Hills a run for the money, and hung out at a park. And the canopy trees are breathtaking.

On my sister’s suggestion I wandered off to a seafood dive and ordered some tilapia with lemon pepper sauce. Delicious! To top it off, I came across Whole Foods while looking for a movie theater (which never happened). I drank a bottle of carrot juice and bought 3 apples and some olive oil. I feel like I need to swig the oil for my skin since I’m eating pretty lousy.

I put air in my tires…even though there was no gauge so I don’t know if I’m going to crash tomorrow. I also filled up on gas and cleaned my windshield. And I backed into a pole that wasn’t there the last time I checked. Thankfully, my car is elastic so the bumper just popped right up. I love my XB!

I also love the Whataburger logo...reminds me of Wonder Woman...

Day 4 - Band-Aid and my hot transvestite neighbor

2010-06-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

Dallas:

Yesterday’s antics really shook me up despite my attempt at calm this entire day. I forgot to mention that the New Mexico cops kept asking me if my husband knew where I was. Hmm. Do you Baddicus? Didn’t I phone you before the dog started sniffing my car?

Anyballoo, as I drove I continued my Clive Owen saga, listened to Radiohead, but still couldn’t get the wobbliness from my legs this morning…that was until I bought wheat bread for .99 at a gas station mini-mart. Now I'll be able to try the Cheez Whiz that Bad bought to spread on pan de sal. How lowbrow and full of preservatives, but I don’t care. I’m on a micro-budget as motel money keeps eating away at my reserves. The tab for 4-6 weeks of roof over my head scares me.

The drive down to Dallas was gorgeous. Rain kindly washed the car, and I couldn’t believe how green things were for the month of June. Drivers aren’t like Californians...very courteous and keep within the speed limit. I imagine my friend Jeremy the Race Car Driver dying over here. Plus, folks still use checkbooks to pay for gas and groceries.

Before getting a place, I decided to visit downtown Dallas and check on the 6th Floor Museum where Lee Harvey Oswald shot JFK (alone?) from the notorious half-moon window. At first I was pissy about the audio guide and the amount of pictures to be tackled in the museum – especially since I paid $13.50! But the audio with eyewitness testimonies fit perfectly with the photographs. A couple of times I actually teared up...until I heard an ornery woman shout, “He didn’t bring the wall down! Reagan did that. Reagan’s a hero to us.”

I walked the infamous grassy knoll and strolled the downtown streets glistening with heat. I saw wondrous buildings with names I did not learn, but I took lots of pictures of them. I love skyscrapers because they remind me of home. They make me forget that I’m not in hicksville anymore where three officers of the law fiddle with an innocent traveler's car for no meaningful reason.

I’m staying two days in Dallas then I’m off to Oklahoma. Ramada Inn is the cheapest today. Across the way from my complex are people who rent by the month. A pretty transvestite in Daisy Dukes said hi to me and I felt better. She reminded me of L.A. Cool.

Day 3 - The mule and Han Solo

2010-06-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

Socorro - Roswell - Lubbock:

Yes, after twenty-some years of never getting a ticket, I got one today on U.S. Highway 380, 40 miles east of Roswell. I was stopped at first by one cop who said I was five miles over the speed limit. Then came the question,"Will you sign this document so I can search your vehicle? Do you write better Spanish than English?" after telling him about my plans for a 13-state rampage. I told him I didn't want to sign anything but if he'd like he could check my car for contraband.

Officer R. Potter (No. 2247) used his cute sniff dog while waiting for his cronies to arrive. The dog just sighed like a bored data entry worker and asked to be put back in the car. It was hot as a cowboy movie. All this time, the officer asked me to put my camera and my phone in the car (after I snuck a call to Baddicus).

The first backup to arrive was Native American...I think...I don't want to generalize! (No. 2279.) He joined Potter in checking out my engine, bumper, seat cushion, tires, etc. They also looked under the car. The minority fellow asked if I smoked. I said no, of course. I realized he'd found the turbo lighter that my brother Joe had lent me. Point one against me. Before all this, I was asked if I had any weapons on me...any marijuana, methamphetamine, cocaine, heroine and what have you. Boiling in the sun and thinking that my new tattoo was bleaching and giving me a chola persona didn't help my case.

The second hour, one of them handed me my umbrella. I'm definitely getting a tan on this trip. A third patrol officer, a woman who looked like Dexter's sister but with more meat, pulled up and began searching through my bag...the one that had hundreds of pills good for two months - my prescription meds. That really hit the cacti. One officer held my lighter and another Ziploc of pills. They felt bad for my red face. For the third time they asked if I'd like to sit with the dog in the air conditioned cop car with the AC on. I declined because I wanted to see what they were doing with my things. The woman also looked through my binder with my travel itinerary and my notes.

When it looked like no cocaine was stashed in the car - two hours into the incident - the officers approached me. The woman mentioned my meds and asked me if I'd taken any this morning. I said yes. She asked what they were and when I explained, she said all of the pills I took had a 'May cause drowsiness' warning. She said Officer Potter asked to inspect my car because I looked like I was shaking. So there, they were blaming my meds. I told them that I'd been taking those pills for years and that I'd developed a tolerance and they could call my doctor if they wanted.

I pointed at Potter and said, "You stopped me because I have a California plate and my car is unique." He shrugged. The woman answered, "Well, this is the main route for trafficking. And your explanation about traveling all over the country seemed far fetched."

I asked why and she said, "Well, we've concluded that you're a young woman driving on your own to visit different states. That's not what people usually do - especially a small woman like you."

Geez, there it was. They found nothing and tried to pin erroneous ticks on my meds, then on my temerity to travel on my own. F that! This is a free country. The woman asked me what I did for a living and for the first time in my life said that I was a writer because I didn't want to appear useless. She asked what my book was about and I mentioned vampires. She freaked out and went on and on about how much she loved Twilight. She jotted down my pen name. Surreal as fook!

I must say that those three K-9 cops were the nicest I've ever encountered. They bumshoved the crap out of me by sending me off with a $75 speeding ticket and killing two hours of my driving time. It was almost worth all the sunburn and demoralization when the moreno officer pointed at the thumb-size sticker on the back hatch of my car. "Who's this?" he asked suspiciously, thinking the image was some sort of Reggae ganja-guy. "Are you kidding?" I answered in disbelief. At this point I was pretty disgusted. "That's Han Solo, man!"

"Who's he?"
"Who is he? Star Wars?"
"Oh, I haven't seen the episode."

Anyway, I'm in Texas now. Never thought I'd feel safer in Bush country. Saw lighting and it rained a bit. The earth is very red in the western part of this state. Tomorrow I'm headed to Dallas. Lubbock is interesting. Nice red freeway overpasses. This is where Buddy Holly was born.

Crazy walk: 8th Street/Gregory Way

2010-06-13T22:05:00.000-07:00

With EzraPounded on her way to Dixie, I decided to take a journey of my own...a walk west from Downtown Los Angeles to Century City. I may be sunburned and my feet tired after the 11-mile excursion down 8th Street, Gregory Way, and a few turnouts, but I enjoyed the day and I'm looking forward to my next cross-town amble. Some highlights...

A production crew filming an urban beach scene...

Another civil defense siren...

Proof that the Los Angeles Dept. of Water and Power is "A Good Neighbor"...

A Nuclear Free Zone...I'll head straight there if I ever hear that civil defense siren...

Some cool Churrigueresque architecture...

If the seller would only make an educated sign, some educated offers might come in...

A tricked out bench at Los Angeles High Memorial Park...

A garage door leading to a driveway leading to a garage with no garage door...

Live turtles (really) at Wilshire Green Park...

A sculpture from 1925 of Daniel McCarthy, who "helped preserve California to the Union," according to the plaque...

A Kenny G CD on the sidewalk in Beverly Hills...I feel bad now for not trying to track down the owner, surely distraught...

I was laughing too hard to get a picture, but the funniest thing I saw on this walk was in Beverly Hills just short of Century City. A group of loudmouth teenagers on bikes rode past me at a decent speed, and tailing them on foot was their buddy yelling, "Guys, wait up! Wait up, guys!" What happened to his bike? Does he always run after the rest of the clowns? Maybe I sound like a jerk for laughing, but seriously, it was a funny sight.

Day 2 - Loneliness of a Long Distance Driver

2010-06-13T17:53:00.000-07:00

Socorro:

The dramatic title isn't meant to be negative or Hollywood. I got it from the movie/book, Loneliness of a Long Distance Runner. The runner would have flashbacks while he'd run. As for me, seven hours of driving tended to push the mind in the direction of everywhere. The drive from green Arizona to earth tone New Mexico was relaxing. I made up movies in my head, thought about the good things in my life and so forth. Real corny stuff. Clive Owen and Matt Damon were really amazing in my movie.

I reached Socorro, a tiny town off the 60 Highway, and searched for one thing: one of the oldest missions in America from the 1500's - so the plaque said. It was nice but I think they overdid it with the new stucco. Not much else to be found in this place except a Taco Bell. I had my dinner there. Great for the wallet. I found a decent motel at under $35.00. Not to be racist or anything...just an observation...but this is the fifth motel I've checked on that's Indian owned. Just find it interesting.

Snowy TV but was able to watch the Celtics win! Yippee!!!!

Day 1 - The toilet dilemma

2010-06-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

Phoenix:

I left this morning feeling like a louse. My mother was right...I wasn't being fair to BaddicusFinch. Yet I left anyway. I'm pretty impulsive, a trait shared by the bipolar folks...but I'm not going to blame it on that. If anything, I'll blame the white kid who called me 'nip' then later scratched his head and tried 'beaner' when I was in junior high. He couldn't decide which slur to hurl at me since he was unsure of my ethnicity. I suppose ever since then I've had a phobia of racist people.

So I chose the southern states to cleanse my hatred once and for all. I'm positive I'll mostly meet good folks and some not so good. This will be my chance to say 'f-you, you dumbass' and tase them in the face.

I reached Phoenix, Arizona at a relatively early time. Baddicus had booked me a motel for a reasonable price, but on the way there I saw a motel called Budget with a sign advertising $23.99 rates. I immediately flipped a u-turn.

The complex has about twenty rooms, but when I pulled in, the other guests opened their doors to peek out. I noticed I was the only one with a car. Weirded out but wanting to stretch my dollars, I took the room. Again, it's not good to be impulsive. The cleaning crew, a mother and a daughter with missing teeth like out of a Dorothea Lange photograph, told me they'll send someone to fix my plugged toilet. I said fine and took a drive.

I went to see the Biltmore Hotel with a concrete block system designed by FL Wright. Very impressive by the way. The people looked healthy with their pearly teeth and golf clubs. I parked by a Bentley and a Jaguar thinking it would be alright. I snapped pictures and was stopped by a valet guy who said he needed my key because I parked in the fire zone. I told him I was almost done and pointed out that the luxury cars were also parked in the red zone. He gave me a sheepish smile and nodded at me. A decent guy. I liked him.

I also stopped by Wright's Carlson House and was disappointed. The famous circular home was nowhere to be seen...and that was because the house was surrounded by thick cement walls. MFKs.

Back at the Budget the toilet was still unusable, but the fine housekeeping staff had left a plunger. Thanks.

Be Pee on the Rosslyn

2010-06-11T12:46:00.000-07:00

This popped up a couple days ago on the west side of the Rosslyn Hotel, facing Harlem Place Alley...

Nice, huh? Much better than the pigeon skids that nobody cares to remove. I'd love to see that alley greened up as proposed by a team of UC Santa Barbara students.

American Graffiti? I prefer Beat Street and Wild Style

2010-06-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

Street Artists Collide in Alley

2010-06-09T16:19:00.000-07:00

Very exciting things are bubbling in Downtown. Lots of street artists from all over the world are decorating our neighborhood. Banksy for one. Vhils, an artist from Portugal, tops everyone. He created a mural of an old man by peeling away old paint from a parking lot-facing building on the 600 block of Spring Street. Opposite his mural is Jr's (from France) giant-size pix of a (possibly) Asian woman tugging at her eye.

Lloyd Jr. as in Frank's son

2010-06-07T09:10:00.001-07:00

Been experimenting with my GPS in preparation for my cross-country trip on the 12th. I went to Rancho Palos Verdes to see Wayfarer's Chapel dedicated to Emmanuel Swedenborg who interspersed science with faith in the 1700's. The architect was none other than Lloyd Wright, Frank Lloyd Wright's son. It is said that with this chapel, Jr. came into his own.

I must say that this is the best chapel/place of worship I've ever seen. Glass walls blended into trees and surrounding nature. Gotta go at the right time since weddings pummel the church at every turn.

Down but not out

2010-06-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

I like the evolving window art at the Down and Out bar in Downtown Los Angeles. The current piece is by Nick Knudson, who started off with this...

...and here's how it looks now...check out Rickey the Pirate...

Sung to the tune of Riders on the Storm

2010-06-02T23:06:00.000-07:00

Shine those signs

2010-06-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

My talents are far from extraordinary, but I can spot a new wall sign from a mile away...

Another Gary Coleman story

2010-05-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

Bear with me while I rehash my Gary Coleman story. One summer I was subleting an apartment in Westwood with my brother and a couple crazy friends...Tuan and Peter. We were close to broke, so we cut corners for fun. You know, sneak into movie premieres, sneak into the UCLA dorms for free cafeteria food, sneak into the underground utility tunnels.

On the 4th of July Peter and I finished a fine tray dinner in the dorms and saw a crowd of international students lined up by a charter bus. With nothing to lose we joined the line and found seats in the back. The bus rolled away and students launched into drinking songs...our new German friends in the back would hit their "In München steht ein Hofbräuhaus, Eins, Zwei, g'suffa!" and the French up front would counter with their "Oui oui oui, non non non!" I claimed Mexico, Peter said he was from South Korea, and the Europeans were cool with that.

Well we ended up at Fisherman's Village in Marina del Rey, and I was surprised to see that Gary Coleman had a little video game arcade there. He'd walk up to folks and yell out, "I challenge you!" and he'd pay for a little push-button showdown. In those pre-Internet days I worked on a 'zine called Farsh Has Fun, and I had written an article reminiscing about Diff'rent Strokes. Everywhere I went I wore a backpack with a stash of Farsh Has Fun magazines, so naturally I had to pass a copy on to the star. Funny...he accepted it and tossed it into a toolbox.

I still wonder if he ever read it, and as we remember Gary Coleman today I think back to Germans, French, and fireworks. Sorry I interrupted your game, Mr. Coleman.