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So I’d moved out to L.A., no agent, no manager, no life. I was screwed. I owed everybody money. I was really in a bad place. I was hanging out with this really great friend of mine, Greg Dulli, from Afghan Whigs. I was living on the couch of the guys from Bullet LaVolta. They were recording a record in L.A., and then they were like, “Okay, dude, we’re going back to Boston next week!” And I said, “Well, what about me?” They’re like, “Uh, you’re an adult. Tough shit.” [Laughs.] “We’re not your parents.”

So I found this place to live, taking care of dogs in South Central. I quit drinking, because I was out of my mind, and I got a job as a janitor at a drug and alcohol center, and I didn’t care about acting or… anything, really. For the first time in my life, I was like, “Oh, man. Thank you, God, for this turkey sandwich!” [Laughs.]

People were talking shit about L.A., my friends in New York, but I was like, “To me, L.A. is Tibet!”

"

The great, great Donal Logue talking Random Roles over at the AV Club. I always love reading, and will never get tired of hearing, “I moved to LA and was broke and struggled and still struggle” stories, especially those of people you admire.

We’re all in this together.

As Donal Logue continues:

I’ve also found over the years that those environments are usually welcoming. People want people to do well. You can get focused on the bitter side of it, like, “Everybody wants you to fail, everybody’s keeping the door closed to you,” but that’s not true at all. Everybody’s kind of in the same boat. Everybody’s kind of a freelancer. If Phil Alden Robinson doesn’t keep writing hit scripts or big movies, then he goes somewhere else. The same with the executives and stuff.

Great dance party to a great dance party song at a great birthday party at a great house with great friends made for a great night.

I don’t know where you were or what you were doing Saturday night, but if you weren’t in this room losing your mind to Icona Pop, then you didn’t do your weekend right.

This shot.

This shot.

aaronbleyaert:

kylekinane:

theidiotking:

lieslieslies:

Got a little defensive about LA. Pretty normal.

OH HELL YEAH

Goddamnit I love Los Angeles and whoever wrote this. Thank you. The Vice article got me a bit bristled as well, which I’m sure was their intention all along.  

Kyle Kinane once said to me one of the greatest things about LA I’ve ever heard. I’m gonna butcher it, but it went something like, “You hate LA? Good. DON’T MOVE HERE. I love it when people shit on Los Angeles because that means that there will be less shitty people taking up space in this great city I love.”

I gotta agree with Kyle. I didn’t like LA when I first moved here, but now I think it’s awesome. The only shitty thing about LA is the shitty people - but there are shitty people everywhere. I don’t hang out with them, and it alllllll works out. You hate LA? Awesome! Get the fuck out and let me enjoy an awesome city I love. 

The problem is that piece was written by someone who has clearly only been in the city for, like, two days. And on those two days he clearly just walked around Hollywood Blvd and never once tried to go out or do anything fun or, you know, explore the fucking city.

As an LA resident of seven years, I could make a list of reasons why LA frustrates me, but those things are small and manageable and at the end of the day, I love Los Angeles. I love the traffic (when I go home to Oklahoma for Christmas, this is something I miss and I shouldn’t, and yeah our traffic sucks but it works, you know?); I love the landscape and the mountains and the ocean and the hills; I love the people (even if, yes, most of them are terrible. But like Bley said, there are terrible people everywhere. And I don’t have to be around them if I don’t want to be.); I love all those ridiculous places with the ridiculous food (even if, yeah, Diablo Tacos is not all that, but hey, we have TACO TRUCKS EVERYWHERE! tacs on tacs on tacs!); I love driving around to bars and taking the subway downtown and barhopping and I love walking around Silver Lake and Los Feliz going to bars and restaurants and, you know, doing everything in that article that is apparently un-doable.

There’s not a day that goes by where something happens that makes me say, out loud, to myself, “I fucking love this town.” It could be the sun on the mountains, it could be roasting s’mores in your friends backyard while the sun sets and Die Hard plays on the tv, it could be walking to Starbucks as the sun strikes Wilshire Blvd, it could be eating a giant taco truck burrito, it could be anything.

I know people who don’t like LA. That’s okay. LA doesn’t like them. You love this city, it takes care of you. It shows you how it can be beautiful, it shows you how it can be cruel, it shows you how you can be a better person or a worse person.

I wish that the Vice article had been more-thought-out, or at least written by someone who knew what they were talking about. As is, it’s rubbish, from someone who clearly has no idea how this city works, or what this city can be.

I love this city tonight; I love this city always.

Rising sun in the east on the West Coast (sunrise at LAX), setting sun in the west on the East Coast (sunset leaving RDU).

That’s the instagram way of saying, hey, I flew out of Los Angeles this morning to spend four weeks in North Carolina to AD on STOMPING GROUND, an independent movie filming mostly in the Uwharries National Forest.

Follow along on twitter here: https://twitter.com/stompgroundfilm

And follow the tumblr here: http://stompinggroundfilm.tumblr.com/

I may be posting odds and ends on both.

Oh, and go like the movie on FB, updates there too! https://www.facebook.com/StompGroundFilm

See ya later, West Coast. I’m off to hunt for bigfoot. :)

Happiest place panorama. (Taken with Instagram at Disneyland)

Happiest place panorama. (Taken with Instagram at Disneyland)

I love this city tonight; I love this city always. (Taken with Instagram at Sunset Ridge Trail)

I love this city tonight; I love this city always. (Taken with Instagram at Sunset Ridge Trail)

Fun with Panorama at Mt Hollywood in Griffith Park. (Taken with Instagram at Hollywood Sign)

Fun with Panorama at Mt Hollywood in Griffith Park. (Taken with Instagram at Hollywood Sign)

A pretty nice little Saturday… (Taken with Instagram at Hollywood Sign)

A pretty nice little Saturday… (Taken with Instagram at Hollywood Sign)


“I feel my vision slipping in and out of focus, but I’m pushing on for that horizon. I’m pushing on…” 
(Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)

“I feel my vision slipping in and out of focus, but I’m pushing on for that horizon. I’m pushing on…”

(Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)


“While everyone’s lost, the battle is won, with all these things that I’ve done.”
(Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)

“While everyone’s lost, the battle is won, with all these things that I’ve done.”

(Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE… (Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE… (Taken with Instagram at The Fonda Theatre)

The Conversation

“How’s your girlfriend liking Vegas?”

“Great, but she has to come back early.”

“Really, why?”

“She’s got an audition on Thursday.”

“Ah.”

“She has to tape it, there’s nowhere in Vegas to do it, so she has to fly back here and tape it by Wednesday morning.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, but she needs the work. She’s, uh, kinda broke…”

“That bad?”

“Well, she can’t pay rent. There’s a discussion coming…”

“Uh oh. You going to-“

“I dunno, man…. I dunno. After this audition, maybe…”

So that’s a conversation I overheard this week at the gym and also one I overhear EVERY DAMN DAY.

No joke, that’s The Conversation. That’s the LA Conversation:

Actress who’s broke but goes to Vegas anyways, can’t pay rent, fingers crossed this audition goes well, all problems will be solved. And luckily her boyfriend can float her until then.

I’ve heard a variation of it while hiking in Runyon Canyon; I’ve heard it at parties, I’ve heard it at Starbucks, I’ve heard it while buying popcorn at The Arclight, I’ve heard it while drinking at Thirsty Crow. I’ve heard it at fucking Target for fucks sake. 

Substitute girlfriend or actress for boyfriend or screenwriter; substitute Vegas for… well, Vegas. The only people who go to Vegas are people who can’t afford it. Substitute the audition for the interview or the internship or the date or the meeting.

Every person here is one step removed from both fame and obscurity, fortune and poverty. One step in either direction. Everyone is on that line. So many people are making it work, and so many aren’t. And those that aren’t, aren’t trying. I love watching my friends take the right step and I love watching people actually try when so many just don’t.

People can’t afford their dreams.

And yet they go to Vegas.

They’re playing our song
Can you see the lights?
Can you hear the hum,
of our song?

I hope they get it right
I hope we dance tonight
Before we get it wrong

Blind Pilot played the Music Box at the Fonda in Hollywood on Saturday night, marking my 7th or 8th time to see the band across two states in three years.

They remain one of my favorite acts to see.

And though they didn’t quite descend into the crowd like they did the last time I saw them, it was still a breathtaking show.

One of my other favorite acts to see live, Sea Wolf, play this Friday night at The Skirball in West LA (er, high above West LA) (er, high above the 405 in the corridor separating West LA and The Valley.) (Tix on sale here.)

Two of my favorite bands in the span of one week? Life is good.

(The third pic is courtesy of vaaahlerie, and features Braids, her, and myself pre-show. We’re a happy lot.)

So this was our song
This was our song.
I still see the lights
I can see them

And the crisscross
Of what is true, won’t get to us
‘Cause you know me-
I could not give up on you…

Tales From The Gym: Assholes Slingin’ Steroids

So I’m at the gym this afternoon, and I’ve worked out and sat out by the pool and have showered and changed and am now ready to freshen up and look presentable (put my face on, if you will.) (Going to the gym at lunch or midday or the morning or anytime means I shower and change at the gym. This means I have to put up with a lot of unusual specimens of the human race.)

To do this, there are two rows of facing counters with mirrors and sinks. People can shave, wash their face, brush their teeth, blow dry their hair, whatever you have to do.

They are for the people doing these things. They are not for, say, people sitting on the counters selling steroids to one another.

So I walk up with my gym bag, and the spot next to the hair dryer is occupied by two meatheads selling steroids protein powder to one another, and possibly a car. One dude, Meathead #1, is sitting on the counter with his bag full of drugs steroids protein powder laying out.

The other, Dick McAsshole, is leaning on the counter looking pensively at a giant container of steroids ball-shrinking juice protein powder.

They are in my way. They are in everyone’s way.

So I politely say to Dick McAsshole: “Excuse me, do you mind if I use this counter?”

Dick McAsshole looks up and glares at me like I just interrupted his divination ceremony with Jesus Christ himself.

Me: “Unless you’re using it?”

Dick McAsshole continues to silently glare. I put my bag down and he moves across to lean on the facing counter.

Me: “Thanks.”

Both Meathead #1 and Dick McAsshole just continue to stare at me.

I look up into the mirror, Dick McAsshole is glaring at me pretty hard now.

Me: “I’m sorry, were you using the counter?”

Dick McAsshole: “Did I say anything?”

Meathead #1 chimes in: “Did he say anything?”

Me: “You know, I asked politely, you don’t have to be a dick.”

They shut up. Out of the corner of my eye I notice some dude down the counter flash me a thumbs up.

I started to blow dry and style my hair, brush my teeth, the works. Dick McAsshole, confused by the steroids protein powder, tosses it back to Meathead #1, who takes a call to sell his car, I think. But he put a lot of work into it so he needs to make a profit.

I finish up. I leave.

As I drove out of the parking garage I hoped that the universe loved me and they would walk into the front of my car and I’d accidentally smear them all over the Universal City pavement. Alas.

So, moral of the story: Steroid users are dicks.