Birthday

Its my birthday today.  It started at the Dresden last night as the clock turned midnight.  Marty and Elaine sang me a jazzy happy birthday.  Tomas negotiated a huge bash for us on Monday.  Carl, the owner acknowledged us for having come to the Dresden dressed to the nines every monday night for almost 10 months now bringing hundreds of people with us over the last year.  Tomas and I are the originators of the monday night crew and I guess the monday night crew is starting to hold some clout a the Dresden.  Everybody knows who we are now.  It's great.  So monday, since it's Tomas's actual birthday and mine is today, we're bringing probably around 60 people to the Dresden and Carl has promised to reserve half of the joint, 4 booths and up to 6 tables, for us and our crew.  

But last night was great.  It started at the Dresden with the good news of having half the joint reserved for us on Monday by the owner.  Then we went to the eco-plex for Dub Club which I realized I had missed immensely.  We got in for free and skipped the line because my ex-roommate Nick is now the Bar manager.  Then we went to get a late night meal at the Bright Spot where our good friend Angela works.  She didn't charge us a thing.  Here's the line up for today.

-Tai Massage

-Exploration and picture taking around LA.

-Barack Obama rally in Hollywood

-Shooting guns at the shooting range

-Bowling

-Fashion show friends are throwing Downtown

-Dance party in Downtown

-Another dance party at the Short Stop that friend is spinning

-One more dance party in Hollywood

Good times

  

The Mother Fucking Gold Room

I first went to The Gold Room about three years ago.  Back then it was dirty and dark, the ground littered with peanut shells, the air reeked of tequila, the majority present were urban Mexican cowboys/gangsters and the waitresses were dressed down to nothing while flaunting their mandatorily enormous breasts.  I described it as the Mexican Hooters.  It was great, a bit sketchy but nevertheless a dark and dirty novelty.  Three years later not much has changed except for a minor makeover that leaves the place feeling bigger, brighter, more spacious and safer.  I assume that the makeover was an attempt to cater to the overwhelming population of young, white artists rapidly taking over the neighborhood.  The Gold Room did the smart thing, or should I say the lucrative thing.  It adapted to survive the flood of gentrification.  And so far it seems like it has.  It's grown solid roots deep into the ground and can now hang on no matter how violent the flood.  It also has succeeded in maintaining it's authenticity as numerous Mexican cowboys/gangsters can still be found dominating the bar stools and although the waitresses are less scantily dressed they still have enormous breasts.  

A warning to all hipsters.  There is a rumor that The Gold Room has an unspoken policy to allow no more then 2 booths to be filled with the gangs of gentrification.  If the joint gets over saturated with the artistically Caucasian kind, it is policy to allow local Mexican cowboys/gangsters to throw at least one punch each.  Don't be scared, just don't act like a fool and you should be fine.  I think its a great way of keeping gentrification in check.  

The Gold Room

1558 W. Sunset Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90026

213-482-5259  

Bridge And Tunnel vs. Off Ramp

In New York there is a term for those who invade and over saturate the city on weekends coming from places like Long Island, New Jersey, Westchester and further Upstate.  The term is "Bridge and Tunnel".  It is reserved for those people that must travel over a bridge or through a tunnel to get to the city at all.  Their presence is usually seen as intrusive and annoying for locals.  Neighborhood hang out spots get taken over by these unruly outsiders, replacing a laid back local vibe with the worst of belligerent frat behavior.  Lines that wrap around the block are formed in front of places that never have lines.  Guest lists materialize out of thin air at places that normally don't give a hoot.  All in all its a pretty aggravating situation for locals.  

The term here in LA for this group of weekend invaders is "Off Ramp".  These people must drive long distances on the freeway to get to Hollywood or Downtown from places like Orange County, the Valley and Valencia.  They are off the local "ramp" if you will.  Having lived in both cities I can tell you that the phenomenon of "bridge and tunnel" and "off ramp" are extremely similar.  Both here and in New York it has been made very clear to me that going out during the week is the way to go.  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights are usually pretty amazing with some of LA's oldest, classiest and most consistent parties and venues running at full steam.  Fridays and Saturdays you can forget it unless you know of a safe place that is outside the outsiders radar.  

I went to 7 and Grand this Saturday with some friends.  It was completely Off Ramp.  We had to wait in the lobby packed with  people as the bouncer randomly let people in at the pace of a slow drip.  I'm not generally a complainer or a whiner, in fact I didn't do either the entire night and had a great old time, but I am saying that during the week the good times are had without getting the cold shoulder from bouncers or standing on a sidewalk for an hour.  What's worse is that I was trying to go to the much famed Downtown art deco hang out The Edison and couldn't because of a major case of Off Ramp.  The bouncer at the door told me that the wait would be between 15 minutes to an hour and a half.  That's like waiting for my cable to be installed sometime between 8am and 4pm.  No way.  Not gonna do it.  I'll just come back on Monday night when the place is still jumping but there are no bouncers, no lines, no waiting and no bullshit.  

People In New York Don't Love Life, They Love New York

I was talking to an old friend the other day who lives in Brooklyn.  This friend and I shared years of exploration and adventure in New York City.  I told him that nobody I talked to in New York these days sounded like they were enjoying life.  The tone of their voices on the other side of the receiver always carried a hint of stress, anxiety and mild if not heavy depression.  He responded to me with "fool, people in New York don't love life, they love New York!"  I couldn't have said it any better and I completely agree.  People who choose to dwell in the Big Apple are choosing to sacrifice a certain quality of life just for the privilege to be living there.  I am strictly referring to young people who are struggling professionally and financially.  This need not apply to the super rich.  On top of financial stress, everything, and I mean every little thing in New York takes energy, concentration, stamina and an inkling of nurtured urban intelligence if not straight up genius.  One major difference that I have noticed in myself living here in LA is that I am generally relaxed and care free whenever leaving my apartment for a full day of activity and errands.  This was not the case in New York.  In New York, before even considering going outside, I remember spending sometimes up to an hour going over a check list in my mind making sure that I had absolutely everything that I might need for up to several days of on-foot urban travel.  In New York it is never certain as to when exactly you might return to your apartment so it is imperative that you have the adequate clothing, equipment and tools to get you through anything from extreme fluctuating temperatures (while maintaining your personal style at all times, indoors and out) to unpredictable circumstances (subway delays or breakdowns, impromptu professional, social, sexual or romantic encounters etc) that might leave you stranded for who knows how long in a distant and unfamiliar borough.  Reliable reading material, music, video games, communication devices, lip balm, breath fresheners, weapons, water and snacks are just some things that must be carried on your body at all times.  Everyday is a backpacking adventure.  In my opinion this type of effort nurtures ones urban intelligence, sharpens the mind and toughens the shell.  That's why at first glance Californians appear to be total pussy's to New Yorkers, because they have not developed any armor and cannot be taken seriously as warriors.  But the point I was trying to make was that life in New York (for the financially challenged mind you) is strenuous and in order to throw yourself into that situation, which I personally did (and loved every second of by the way), the love for the city must be stronger then any expectations for a certain quality of life.  It's a powerful force that draws people to New York, it's a powerful force that eventually transforms into unconditional love.  

   

Exactly The Same But Completely Different

New York and L.A. are exactly the same but completely different.  That is what I always say.  After spending almost a decade living, working, exploring, sweating, freezing, walking, driving, biking and subwaying NYC and three years doing the same in L.A. (yes I have taken the subway several times here in L.A. and it has always taken me from exactly where I was to exactly where I needed to go) I have grown to love both cities for similar reasons.  They are both extremely large cities packed with diverse communities, creative people, art, music, architecture and history.  I describe L.A. as New York spread thin with a butter knife, same content, different surface area.  In New York, inspiration is never more then several footsteps away while in L.A. one must have the blood of an enthusiastic and  feverishly curious urban explorer coursing through their veins in order to really experience the depth and beauty that is everywhere yet generally ignore and unacknowledged by most.  I believe that it is in ones own existential self-interest to be inspired by the environments that they live in.  So to those who bitch and moan about L.A. or New York for that matter I have a suggestion.  First and foremost take responsibility for the unfulfilled world that you live in, realize that you are creating that world and then dedicate yourself to opening your eyes, looking around and allowing the sharp yet satisfying sting of curiosity to infiltrate your system.