Last night, about half a mile from the scene of Saturday's assault, a man was arrested.
In Montecity Heights, danger is an ever-present threat. It comes from the inside out and back again from the outside in.
A woman was stabbed to death in her home after an argument escalated around 9:50pm.
The man who did it (if not her husband than something close) also stabbed his own son, a small 13 year old boy.
The woman is dead. The boy is not dead but his injuries are life-threatening.
What madness occured in that house while the rest of us settled down in our beds, thinking of work and errands. Did he grab her while she screamed- the boy looking on? Did he kill her in a fit of rage without intending to, then, horrified by what his son witnessed, decide to kill the boy as well?
What lives are these in Montecito Heights? What lives are led? What desparation?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Hand Saved To Make A Fist
The driver's name, the one who ran away from police and hid underneath another car, is Alfredo Escobedo.
"The incidents, as you know, are disturbing, and they really tear the fabric of a civilized society... [the police] are the thin line that protects our communities and our children from these people who are terrorizing our communities," says Jose Huizar, the LA City Councilman whose district hosted Saturday's incident.
Porras grabbed at his handheld radio and yelled into it "Officer down, officer down, shots fired".
"It looked like his hand was going to drop off."
USC surgeons were able to save Tuck's hand with skin grafts and tissue from his leg.
The LA Times writes that yesterday the two men met at USC University Hospital. Officer John Porras gave his wounded partner a hug, then didn't let go. Someone had to pry him away from the 25 year old Tuck.
Police Chief Bratton seems to be the only one calling this an assasination attempt- implying that it was premeditated and a piece of a larger war against the police department, waged by gang members and other violent poor people, no longer satisfied with minding their own simple crimes. Now these violent terrorizers are organizing and attacking the LAPD.
To his credit, Bratton has done a lot to clean up gang violence in the city, but now the number of violent crimes has gone up, not down.
What is the answer? Is a strict hold on gang warfare the answer? Certainly a lax hold hadn't done any good. The question remains: how could a system of incentives be incorporated, since penalties only work for so long?
"He's [been] replaying it in his mind. He talked about that this morning," Bratton said. "He said, 'I have been running it through my mind, is there anything I could have done different?' And he says, 'I cannot think of anything I could have done different than what I did.'"
Maybe the real solution has nothing to do with the LAPD. Perhaps to solve gang violence the city would need to create a structure of education and empty jobs to incorporate graduates.
In other words, maybe the police shouldn't be the line that protects our communities and our children from "these people" who are terrorizing our communities. Maybe we will be one step closer to finding a solution as soon as people like Jose Huizar start realizing that "these people" ARE our communities and our communities are flawed structurally.
But how effective would a system of education be? How do you offer someone a life within our society's accepted system of living? Working long hours, making little money, barely able to manage living. Once a man crosses over and sees a world with real options to make it, it is hard to go back to our society despite the consequences. This is a world full of people who learned from a very young age that they could never be president.
The rest of us learn this after we've already invested too much into the system that we could never go back. Our rebellions are smaller.
"The incidents, as you know, are disturbing, and they really tear the fabric of a civilized society... [the police] are the thin line that protects our communities and our children from these people who are terrorizing our communities," says Jose Huizar, the LA City Councilman whose district hosted Saturday's incident.
Porras grabbed at his handheld radio and yelled into it "Officer down, officer down, shots fired".
"It looked like his hand was going to drop off."
USC surgeons were able to save Tuck's hand with skin grafts and tissue from his leg.
The LA Times writes that yesterday the two men met at USC University Hospital. Officer John Porras gave his wounded partner a hug, then didn't let go. Someone had to pry him away from the 25 year old Tuck.
Police Chief Bratton seems to be the only one calling this an assasination attempt- implying that it was premeditated and a piece of a larger war against the police department, waged by gang members and other violent poor people, no longer satisfied with minding their own simple crimes. Now these violent terrorizers are organizing and attacking the LAPD.
To his credit, Bratton has done a lot to clean up gang violence in the city, but now the number of violent crimes has gone up, not down.
What is the answer? Is a strict hold on gang warfare the answer? Certainly a lax hold hadn't done any good. The question remains: how could a system of incentives be incorporated, since penalties only work for so long?
"He's [been] replaying it in his mind. He talked about that this morning," Bratton said. "He said, 'I have been running it through my mind, is there anything I could have done different?' And he says, 'I cannot think of anything I could have done different than what I did.'"
Maybe the real solution has nothing to do with the LAPD. Perhaps to solve gang violence the city would need to create a structure of education and empty jobs to incorporate graduates.
In other words, maybe the police shouldn't be the line that protects our communities and our children from "these people" who are terrorizing our communities. Maybe we will be one step closer to finding a solution as soon as people like Jose Huizar start realizing that "these people" ARE our communities and our communities are flawed structurally.
But how effective would a system of education be? How do you offer someone a life within our society's accepted system of living? Working long hours, making little money, barely able to manage living. Once a man crosses over and sees a world with real options to make it, it is hard to go back to our society despite the consequences. This is a world full of people who learned from a very young age that they could never be president.
The rest of us learn this after we've already invested too much into the system that we could never go back. Our rebellions are smaller.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Lawhand Blasted By Demons In Black Honda
This morning, at around 10 am, Police Chief William J. Bratton has scheduled a news conference to talk about the rising number of firearm assaults on police this year.
Saturday night, a little after 11pm, I was on and off the phone in my living room. The television was on and the lights were off. It was then that the room suddenly filled with a metallic beam of white light and the sound of a helicopter cut through the air. When I went to the window, I saw a white column of light illuminating the streets and buildings around my apartment. The helicopter circled around - blasting light through my window with each pass.
Below, on the street, several police cars drove slowly, examining the dark alleys with flood lights. The helicopter's circles grew wider. Something was happening.
It started just a short distance away- on Sierra street, just north of Flora avenue near Lincoln High School.
Officers James Tuck, 26, and his training officer- 18 year LAPD veteren John Porras- pulled over a black honda, which had been reported stolen on July 28th. After stopping, Jose Perez jumped out of hte passenger seat and ran towards the officers, raking the police car with shots from an AK-47. He fired into the front of the police car with bullets that pierced the windshield and stabbed through James Tuck's protective vest into his stomach and lower back. Another bullet nearly severed Tuck's left hand at the wrist.
Meanwhile, John Porras rolled out of the car and shot Perez in the leg. After getting shot, Perez dropped his rifle and ran away, but was arrested ina nearby yard and taken to a local hospital for treatment.
The honda's driver drove away, then abandoned the car on Gillig Avenue, a block north of the shooting, and started running.
The police were searching for this man late saturday night, while I watched from my window.
Eventually, several neighbors yelled and pointed underneath a car, where the man was hiding.
Both are being charged with attempted murder of a police officer. Yesterday, doctors at USC University Hospital tried to save James Tucker's hand.
Saturday night, a little after 11pm, I was on and off the phone in my living room. The television was on and the lights were off. It was then that the room suddenly filled with a metallic beam of white light and the sound of a helicopter cut through the air. When I went to the window, I saw a white column of light illuminating the streets and buildings around my apartment. The helicopter circled around - blasting light through my window with each pass.
Below, on the street, several police cars drove slowly, examining the dark alleys with flood lights. The helicopter's circles grew wider. Something was happening.
It started just a short distance away- on Sierra street, just north of Flora avenue near Lincoln High School.
Officers James Tuck, 26, and his training officer- 18 year LAPD veteren John Porras- pulled over a black honda, which had been reported stolen on July 28th. After stopping, Jose Perez jumped out of hte passenger seat and ran towards the officers, raking the police car with shots from an AK-47. He fired into the front of the police car with bullets that pierced the windshield and stabbed through James Tuck's protective vest into his stomach and lower back. Another bullet nearly severed Tuck's left hand at the wrist.
Meanwhile, John Porras rolled out of the car and shot Perez in the leg. After getting shot, Perez dropped his rifle and ran away, but was arrested ina nearby yard and taken to a local hospital for treatment.
The honda's driver drove away, then abandoned the car on Gillig Avenue, a block north of the shooting, and started running.
The police were searching for this man late saturday night, while I watched from my window.
Eventually, several neighbors yelled and pointed underneath a car, where the man was hiding.
Both are being charged with attempted murder of a police officer. Yesterday, doctors at USC University Hospital tried to save James Tucker's hand.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Forbidden Gels and Liquids
LAX has been set to Homeland Security level Orange. In fact, the entire commercial aviation sector has been set to Orange and Heathrow is at level Red.
Passengers on international flights out of LAX should now allow three to four hours for the screening process.
It is forbidden to bring gels and liquids beyond security checkpoints, such as:
Beverages
Perfume and cologne containers
Shampoo
Sun Tan Lotion
Creams
Toothpaste
Hair Gels
K-Y Jelly
Astroglide
Jim's Cinnamon flavor Hot Damn Sauce
Vasoline
Wet Lub
ID Pleasure Lube (also ID Juicy Lube)
Eros Pjur Bodyglide
Adam and Eve Anal Ease
Other items of similar consistency
Jeff Koons is America's most highly valued living artist. Recently he had a conversation with Tom Ford, the respected and influential former chief designer of Gucci.
They had a conversation and at one point began talking about a series of works Jeff did called Made In Heaven.
Made in Heaven (1989-91)
Tom Ford Is there sex in most of your work?
Jeff Koons I think it's in everything. In science and sociology, before anything, the organism deals with reproducing itself. After that comes aesthetics and everything else in the world, so sexuality comes from this very profound archetypal level and what it means to be human. If anything, my work is becoming more sexual, like with my 'Made in Heaven' series. That was really about the harmony between man and woman.
The first time that I saw that Cicciolina work I just couldn't quit laughing. I thought it was just hysterical, over the top. Cicciolina was a Hungarian-Italian porn star. Jeff hired her to work with him on the creation of his art, fell in love with her and then turned her love-making into art. It was so bold and confident.
TF I like the way you spoke about the innocence of that work. Those images, to many people who I don't think felt or understood them, were pornographic.
JK It was a statement of accepting her cultural history and just saying that it was perfect.
TF There's a sense of humour in that work and I think, as a viewer, you could feel what you were living through at the time.
JK Absolutely. The 'Made In Heaven' work was really a metaphor for the self-acceptance of the body, to reveal the genitalia and just be comfortable with the sexual self.
Passengers on international flights out of LAX should now allow three to four hours for the screening process.
It is forbidden to bring gels and liquids beyond security checkpoints, such as:
Beverages
Perfume and cologne containers
Shampoo
Sun Tan Lotion
Creams
Toothpaste
Hair Gels
K-Y Jelly
Astroglide
Jim's Cinnamon flavor Hot Damn Sauce
Vasoline
Wet Lub
ID Pleasure Lube (also ID Juicy Lube)
Eros Pjur Bodyglide
Adam and Eve Anal Ease
Other items of similar consistency
Jeff Koons is America's most highly valued living artist. Recently he had a conversation with Tom Ford, the respected and influential former chief designer of Gucci.
They had a conversation and at one point began talking about a series of works Jeff did called Made In Heaven.
Made in Heaven (1989-91)
Tom Ford Is there sex in most of your work?
Jeff Koons I think it's in everything. In science and sociology, before anything, the organism deals with reproducing itself. After that comes aesthetics and everything else in the world, so sexuality comes from this very profound archetypal level and what it means to be human. If anything, my work is becoming more sexual, like with my 'Made in Heaven' series. That was really about the harmony between man and woman.
The first time that I saw that Cicciolina work I just couldn't quit laughing. I thought it was just hysterical, over the top. Cicciolina was a Hungarian-Italian porn star. Jeff hired her to work with him on the creation of his art, fell in love with her and then turned her love-making into art. It was so bold and confident.
TF I like the way you spoke about the innocence of that work. Those images, to many people who I don't think felt or understood them, were pornographic.
JK It was a statement of accepting her cultural history and just saying that it was perfect.
TF There's a sense of humour in that work and I think, as a viewer, you could feel what you were living through at the time.
JK Absolutely. The 'Made In Heaven' work was really a metaphor for the self-acceptance of the body, to reveal the genitalia and just be comfortable with the sexual self.
Jeff In The Position of AdamSoul of Miss L, glorify me.
Body of Miss L, nourish me.
Blood of Miss L, intoxicate me.
Tears of Miss L, wash me.
Oh good Miss L, excuse my plea,
And hide me in your heart,
And defend me from mine enemies.
Help me, Miss L, help me, help me.
In saecula saeculorum. Amen.
--From Nathanael West's Miss LonelyheartsAt least we aren't at level Magenta, that would be rude.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Killer Tits On The Road To Hell
Hana Chin Son's boyfriend pleaded for information at a news conference yesterday.
California Highway Patrol Officer Leland Tang supported him. "We want to shed some light on what happpened and give the family some closure," Tang said.
Maybe today.
Holiday Mathis, esteemed astrologer for the L.A. Times, writes: "It's the second time this year that Mercury has [stalked into the sign of the lion]. This time around, it's going direct, and so is our communication style. Loud and proud is the motto, and if you're wrong, at least you're strong."
The 41 year old woman was driving south on the Hollywood Freeway on July 30th.
I considered this on my way home- driving south on the Hollywood Freeway. I consider it now- looking out over the persistent bullets of traffic speeding south on the Hollywood Freeway.
Hana Chin Son was killed after she struck a 500-pound mold of a female torso that fell onto the freeway. The concrete and fiberglass art object crushed her windshield. The driver of the truck that had been carrying the bust never stopped. No one got a license plate number.
The 500-pound art object haunts me. I wonder if my death will come from another person's artistic assertion. I pray my death will not be ironic as I shower and get ready to take the Hollywood Freeway to my job at the film development and production company.
California Highway Patrol Officer Leland Tang supported him. "We want to shed some light on what happpened and give the family some closure," Tang said.
Maybe today.
Holiday Mathis, esteemed astrologer for the L.A. Times, writes: "It's the second time this year that Mercury has [stalked into the sign of the lion]. This time around, it's going direct, and so is our communication style. Loud and proud is the motto, and if you're wrong, at least you're strong."
The 41 year old woman was driving south on the Hollywood Freeway on July 30th.
I considered this on my way home- driving south on the Hollywood Freeway. I consider it now- looking out over the persistent bullets of traffic speeding south on the Hollywood Freeway.
Hana Chin Son was killed after she struck a 500-pound mold of a female torso that fell onto the freeway. The concrete and fiberglass art object crushed her windshield. The driver of the truck that had been carrying the bust never stopped. No one got a license plate number.
The 500-pound art object haunts me. I wonder if my death will come from another person's artistic assertion. I pray my death will not be ironic as I shower and get ready to take the Hollywood Freeway to my job at the film development and production company.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Shots Tear Through An Innocent Man
On Monday night I kept getting phone calls from my boss, though I continued to ignore them. The last one came at around 10pm. I muted the ringer and fell back down into my pillow. The sound of a motorcycle ripped through the air and then I fell asleep.
It was around this time, about 10:15pm, that a man named Nelson Ramirez was sitting in his car in the 14900 block of Vanowen Street in Van Nuys. Nelson was listening to music. He was 20 years old.
Several people saw two Hispanic men walking side by side. The men approached Nelson's car, pulled out guns and shot several times. This was a gang killing. Nelson Ramirez died in the hospital.
The police department doesn't know why Ramirez was killed. He wasn't a gang member. He wasn't antagonistic. He was listening to music in his car when death came calling, and in its wake, an avenue of questions.
Why did Nelson Ramirez die? Why did he have to die? There must be a reason. Was it the music? Surely it wasn't an accident.
We'll all sleep better at night without the nagging, ringing possibility that this deliberate delivery of the end was not out of control, that there was some method so that the rest of us can avoid this kind of death.
Was it because Ramirez was Hispanic?
It couldn't have been purely random, could it?
An ant crawled over my big toe and crossed the length of my futon to the floor on the other side.
It was around this time, about 10:15pm, that a man named Nelson Ramirez was sitting in his car in the 14900 block of Vanowen Street in Van Nuys. Nelson was listening to music. He was 20 years old.
Several people saw two Hispanic men walking side by side. The men approached Nelson's car, pulled out guns and shot several times. This was a gang killing. Nelson Ramirez died in the hospital.
The police department doesn't know why Ramirez was killed. He wasn't a gang member. He wasn't antagonistic. He was listening to music in his car when death came calling, and in its wake, an avenue of questions.
Why did Nelson Ramirez die? Why did he have to die? There must be a reason. Was it the music? Surely it wasn't an accident.
We'll all sleep better at night without the nagging, ringing possibility that this deliberate delivery of the end was not out of control, that there was some method so that the rest of us can avoid this kind of death.
Was it because Ramirez was Hispanic?
It couldn't have been purely random, could it?
An ant crawled over my big toe and crossed the length of my futon to the floor on the other side.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I Gave Two Weeks Notice To Everyone But The Boss
What lives are these?
These Holy fools. These
Degenerates.
I started the process of quitting my job yesterday- told everyone about the new job, told them I intended to leave in 2 weeks. I told everyone but the boss. He never entered the office and it seemed like the kind of thing one says in person, not on the phone.
Who bore them? Who
Made them? These
Degenerates.
I'm afraid the boss will be spiteful and fire me on the spot- tell me I'll never work in Hollywood again... or another cliche. Then again, I doubt I will find a job that pays so little with such great demands and so few upsides. Or if I do, I doubt I'll take it.
What lives are these-
We quietly lead? Who
Breaks free? Who is
Desparate? Who knows
These degenerates?
D__ once told me that having a development job was like having an identity in the world of film. But what identity? There is no working up to being a writer. There is only writing and not writing. It has always been this way. I learned it is still this way since the last time I checked.
What lives are these? These
Holy fools. These
Degenerates.
These Holy fools. These
Degenerates.
I started the process of quitting my job yesterday- told everyone about the new job, told them I intended to leave in 2 weeks. I told everyone but the boss. He never entered the office and it seemed like the kind of thing one says in person, not on the phone.
Who bore them? Who
Made them? These
Degenerates.
I'm afraid the boss will be spiteful and fire me on the spot- tell me I'll never work in Hollywood again... or another cliche. Then again, I doubt I will find a job that pays so little with such great demands and so few upsides. Or if I do, I doubt I'll take it.
What lives are these-
We quietly lead? Who
Breaks free? Who is
Desparate? Who knows
These degenerates?
D__ once told me that having a development job was like having an identity in the world of film. But what identity? There is no working up to being a writer. There is only writing and not writing. It has always been this way. I learned it is still this way since the last time I checked.
What lives are these? These
Holy fools. These
Degenerates.
Friday, August 04, 2006
You Don't Hold Me Prisoner Anymore
Yesterday, and today, the media inveighed against Mel Gibson because he drove drunk and after getting arrested, yelled, "Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world". Funny he got so drunk he actually thought George Bush was Jewish.
Yesterday, Judge Christina A. Snyder said: "It's a tragedy for the victims, a tragedy for the defendent's family and a tragedy of it's own making for the defendant. She was talking about Gabriel Gonzalez, a former L.A. County Sheriff's Deputy who had just been sentenced to 30 years in prison.
Yesterday my boss went over a few things with me about the new position I am taking over since the last guy quit. He wanted to make sure I knew I was going to be responsible for even more work and that I needed to hire someone to take over my old job and that this person, as well as myself, would be responsible for doing his personal things in addition to handling the work involved with a ramped up slate of projects in development.
This is the 3rd or 4th day news articles and tabloids have run in the paper about Gibson's anti-semetism, despite the fact that nothing new happened yesterday, nor the day before.
The articles stopped being about Mel Gibson the man as soon as the first article went to print. The articles are about something far more supercilious than a man getting a DUI and revealing an uncreative hatred.
At work I am getting a sort of promotion but this means I will be making less money for more work and responsibility in a company that hasn't made a single dime since it came into existence.
Gonzalez sexually assaulted three women while on early morning patrol in Compton and surrounding areas. It is not news that he was punished- that is just a relief. The news comes from the testimony of the women he actually raped. The ones who came forward and testified against him.
Daily, I submit resumes to prospective employers on the UTA joblist and Craig's List but so far I haven't gotten a single response. So many people look for jobs online that in order to even be considered, a person has to send off a resume and cover letter the second the job is posted. I work 45-50 hours each week and I make a flat salary of $340 with no overtime pay.
"This sexual predator will never be able to imagine how hard its been for me to resume a normal life. A part of my body and life has been stolen from me. However, I want him to know my spirit is stronger than his," she said, adding that she is no longer afraid because he will be locked up.
The public, still reading these articles, seem to be trapped in an illusion of significance. The words "Mel Gibson" no longer refer to the man but to an idea of suspicious underlying truths about a subconcious we can no longer trust and yet can't help being facinated by. The ideas behind these articles about Mel Gibson refer to an idea that is clouded and indistinct and malleable.
I need this job to pay my rent and to feed me and I have had this job for long enough that I am so hard up for money I can't afford to leave early and be unemployed for the time it would take to get another job.
One woman, a prostitute, said that her life was in a shambles. She lost 40 pounds, failed her classes at school and started taking anti-depressants. She said she had forgiven Gonzalez. She said: "You don't hold me prisoner anymore".
The trap is to discuss and think about clouds of hatred in a soothing and self-righteous way. Meanwhile, reality continues on and on, like the cars driving by on the 101, outside my window.
Yesterday, Judge Christina A. Snyder said: "It's a tragedy for the victims, a tragedy for the defendent's family and a tragedy of it's own making for the defendant. She was talking about Gabriel Gonzalez, a former L.A. County Sheriff's Deputy who had just been sentenced to 30 years in prison.
Yesterday my boss went over a few things with me about the new position I am taking over since the last guy quit. He wanted to make sure I knew I was going to be responsible for even more work and that I needed to hire someone to take over my old job and that this person, as well as myself, would be responsible for doing his personal things in addition to handling the work involved with a ramped up slate of projects in development.
This is the 3rd or 4th day news articles and tabloids have run in the paper about Gibson's anti-semetism, despite the fact that nothing new happened yesterday, nor the day before.
The articles stopped being about Mel Gibson the man as soon as the first article went to print. The articles are about something far more supercilious than a man getting a DUI and revealing an uncreative hatred.
At work I am getting a sort of promotion but this means I will be making less money for more work and responsibility in a company that hasn't made a single dime since it came into existence.
Gonzalez sexually assaulted three women while on early morning patrol in Compton and surrounding areas. It is not news that he was punished- that is just a relief. The news comes from the testimony of the women he actually raped. The ones who came forward and testified against him.
Daily, I submit resumes to prospective employers on the UTA joblist and Craig's List but so far I haven't gotten a single response. So many people look for jobs online that in order to even be considered, a person has to send off a resume and cover letter the second the job is posted. I work 45-50 hours each week and I make a flat salary of $340 with no overtime pay.
"This sexual predator will never be able to imagine how hard its been for me to resume a normal life. A part of my body and life has been stolen from me. However, I want him to know my spirit is stronger than his," she said, adding that she is no longer afraid because he will be locked up.
The public, still reading these articles, seem to be trapped in an illusion of significance. The words "Mel Gibson" no longer refer to the man but to an idea of suspicious underlying truths about a subconcious we can no longer trust and yet can't help being facinated by. The ideas behind these articles about Mel Gibson refer to an idea that is clouded and indistinct and malleable.
I need this job to pay my rent and to feed me and I have had this job for long enough that I am so hard up for money I can't afford to leave early and be unemployed for the time it would take to get another job.
One woman, a prostitute, said that her life was in a shambles. She lost 40 pounds, failed her classes at school and started taking anti-depressants. She said she had forgiven Gonzalez. She said: "You don't hold me prisoner anymore".
The trap is to discuss and think about clouds of hatred in a soothing and self-righteous way. Meanwhile, reality continues on and on, like the cars driving by on the 101, outside my window.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Anger Erupts On Sunset Boulevard
Great violence flows like a current of hot lava underneath the pavements of this city. When it errupts, it can paint a time and place with inexplicable horror.
Last night, around 10pm, frustrated with the day's traffic and with the fact that it was already time to sleep and I hadn't even eaten dinner, I swallowed the last of my beer and turned off the television.
Outside my window, on Sunset Boulevard, west of my room, past Vine, past Highland, past Fairfax, just past N. Crescent Heights Boulevard, two cars smashed into each other. The headlights of one shattered and sprinkled over the pavement and part of the sidewalk.
The men climbed out of their cars angry. While traffic passed awkwardly on both sides, the two men shouted at each other and kicked the ground. The police were called.
Half a block away, in the parking lot of the House of Blues, three people were stabbed.
When Sgt. Tressa Gunnels of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's department arrived on the scene, the traffic incident didn't appear to have any connection to the stabbings- only that the air felt stuffy amid clouds of car exhaust.
The three victims were taken to nearby hospitals. The House of Blues was closed.
Sgt. Gunnels left Sunset Boulevard unphased.
I fell asleep as soon as I turned off the light by my bed.
Last night, around 10pm, frustrated with the day's traffic and with the fact that it was already time to sleep and I hadn't even eaten dinner, I swallowed the last of my beer and turned off the television.
Outside my window, on Sunset Boulevard, west of my room, past Vine, past Highland, past Fairfax, just past N. Crescent Heights Boulevard, two cars smashed into each other. The headlights of one shattered and sprinkled over the pavement and part of the sidewalk.
The men climbed out of their cars angry. While traffic passed awkwardly on both sides, the two men shouted at each other and kicked the ground. The police were called.
Half a block away, in the parking lot of the House of Blues, three people were stabbed.
When Sgt. Tressa Gunnels of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's department arrived on the scene, the traffic incident didn't appear to have any connection to the stabbings- only that the air felt stuffy amid clouds of car exhaust.
The three victims were taken to nearby hospitals. The House of Blues was closed.
Sgt. Gunnels left Sunset Boulevard unphased.
I fell asleep as soon as I turned off the light by my bed.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Death Strikes the 1st of August
Yesterday, a Window Cleaner was cleaning the glass shaft of an elevator at a building in Chinatown. He died of massive head inujuries after the elevator crushed him while he cleaned.
It happened in the afternoon on North Hill Street.
At the time I was in a production meeting, drinking a coke zero. My boss was explaining the importance of his not having to repeat things. Then I gave a briefing on how our Vonage phone system was a failure because every time we picked up the phone it sounded like we were talking to Twiki from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.
Meanwhile, over the hill, a man's head was being crushed by an elevator in Chinatown.
It happened in the afternoon on North Hill Street.
At the time I was in a production meeting, drinking a coke zero. My boss was explaining the importance of his not having to repeat things. Then I gave a briefing on how our Vonage phone system was a failure because every time we picked up the phone it sounded like we were talking to Twiki from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.
Meanwhile, over the hill, a man's head was being crushed by an elevator in Chinatown.
This is how I started a blog
Something incredible happened.
Every morning I get up at 5:30am and put the tea kettle on and go to the bathroom and pour fresh mate leaves into my mate glass- a thick shrimp cocktail server. I usually wait for like 5 minutes until the water boils. I pass this time by running my hand over my head or scratching myself while yawning.
When the mate water is ready, I move to my desk and start writing. Usually the first things I write don't make too much sense. Like: "After having searched around an old house in New York, where underaged girls were coming onto me, A_ and I climbed into a small, wind-powered flying machine."
I wrote that on the 30th. It was a dream I had the night before.
On the 15th of June I wrote: "Today I woke up at 5:30am and I am beginning my writing day. The way I see it, I need to be ready to get into my car by 9am in order to ensure I arrive at work by 10am."
I wonder how many times I've written about waking up at 5:30am?
This is my first blog. I want to start at the beginning-
Something incredible happened.
I wrote a blog about my life in Hollywood and how I went from a small time development assistant to writing and directing feature films. I also wrote about all the crime and death and sex I had to wade through on my way there. It was mostly on the way to my car.
But I also wrote about blogging because blogging is essential to understanding how to write and direct feature films in Hollywood. I learned that as I wrote the blog and wrote about blogging and waded through the sex and crime and death on the way to my car, on the way to my job.
It was something incredible.
Every morning I get up at 5:30am and put the tea kettle on and go to the bathroom and pour fresh mate leaves into my mate glass- a thick shrimp cocktail server. I usually wait for like 5 minutes until the water boils. I pass this time by running my hand over my head or scratching myself while yawning.
When the mate water is ready, I move to my desk and start writing. Usually the first things I write don't make too much sense. Like: "After having searched around an old house in New York, where underaged girls were coming onto me, A_ and I climbed into a small, wind-powered flying machine."
I wrote that on the 30th. It was a dream I had the night before.
On the 15th of June I wrote: "Today I woke up at 5:30am and I am beginning my writing day. The way I see it, I need to be ready to get into my car by 9am in order to ensure I arrive at work by 10am."
I wonder how many times I've written about waking up at 5:30am?
This is my first blog. I want to start at the beginning-
Something incredible happened.
I wrote a blog about my life in Hollywood and how I went from a small time development assistant to writing and directing feature films. I also wrote about all the crime and death and sex I had to wade through on my way there. It was mostly on the way to my car.
But I also wrote about blogging because blogging is essential to understanding how to write and direct feature films in Hollywood. I learned that as I wrote the blog and wrote about blogging and waded through the sex and crime and death on the way to my car, on the way to my job.
It was something incredible.
It was a cold day at work
The air conditioner is on and while outside I'm sure it must be 82 degrees, inside I think I might get frostbite. It's the way he set up the office after we moved in, and after everyone who saw the place let him know in one indirect way or other that the way he set up the office is terrible. He can't help himself. He has bad taste. He wants the air conditioner on all the time. Half of the office, the half with both windows (as opposed to my half, the one with no view of the outside world), gets hot from all of that afternoon sun.
It's so cold in here. I'm having trouble typing and my skin is purple- but that might just be the way these GODDAMN fluorescent lights reflect on anything living. They make alive things look dead. I heard they cause cancer.
He wants me to process his speeding tickets over the phone today. I'm drinking a coke zero. I'm being paid less than $8 an hour.
This is wednesday in the life of a guy who wants to write and direct movies in Hollywood.
It's so cold in here.
It's so cold in here. I'm having trouble typing and my skin is purple- but that might just be the way these GODDAMN fluorescent lights reflect on anything living. They make alive things look dead. I heard they cause cancer.
He wants me to process his speeding tickets over the phone today. I'm drinking a coke zero. I'm being paid less than $8 an hour.
This is wednesday in the life of a guy who wants to write and direct movies in Hollywood.
It's so cold in here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)