Today is the third anniversary of our mother’s passing. A while back, my dad gave me a short fragment of an autobiography she intended to write but never finished. As he said, she was “too busy living.” That is so true! But here it is for you, and I think you will enjoy the time period it evokes, a world that doesn’t really exist anymore:
Gerry Arnold, 1/11/1926 - 10/7/2008
My grandmother’s house was a tall white Victorian with a bay window in front, the porch and stairs to the right, and my grandfather’s rose garden on either side of the front walk. There were palm trees lining the 17th Street side, and a large screened in porch at the back.
In the summer the blinds were closed against the valley’s hot afternoon sun. The house itself seemed drowsy. The Lister upright piano was stately along one wall of the front parlor. With no musical education and no innate ability, still I loved to strike the keys and try to imagine the music sound resembled the song I was singing.
Mostly men find difficulty levitra prices achieving an erection. As a rule of thumb no pills should be consumed with a glass of water or juice. respitecaresa.org female cialis online You have to take care of it. cheapest cialis http://respitecaresa.org/kendra-give-back-to-rcsa/pre-order-forms-kendra-gives-back-march-7/ Nevertheless, what is for certain is that it has on sale at website buy generic cialis a faster absorption rate compared to the tablet form and is proven to be absorbed by the body faster. Poor Nanny! For years she played the great pipe organ in the Cathedral on 11th Street. Listening to such a grandchild performance must have bought years off her Purgatory. Sometimes my aunt, who was still living at home, played the “Isle of Capri” and I sang the melody while she harmonized in the lovely soprano which soared through the Cathedral or in civic operettas. (I always loved my mother’s story of my aunt wanting to throw open her front second story bedroom windows on Armistice Day on Nov. 11, 1918, to sing “The Star Spangled Banner.” My grandmother, a somewhat reserved lady, forbade it).
The room behind the parlor was a sitting room, sort of a fore-runner of today’s family – or great – room. My grandfather’s Morris chair sat next to the bay windows with their window seats. The beautiful rococo gilt frame mirror and oak library table with ball and claw feet were other furnishings I recall. But the Morris chair, with its black leather upholstery and wide wooden arms, was my favorite. I loved pushing the button that made it recline.
Most of all, I can still feel the three-year-old’s love for this kind (old) gentleman as he put my grandmother’s thimbles on the fingers of each hand and rat-ta-tatted drum like for a little girl’s amusement.
It’s day four of Carfree Week. Yesterday I sort of hibernated, as it was raining for most of the day (though it cleared up late afternoon). Funny thing about living in climate where it doesn’t rain at all for a good part of the year – when it finally comes, it’s like a huge regional event and news story and that’s all anybody talks about. It seemed cold, even though the temperature was probably upper 50s low 60s. If I had a fireplace I would have made a nice toasty fire!
Any readers who live where there’s real weather will roll their eyes. Believe me, everything is relative. Also, having lived both in the snowy Midwest and desert Southwest, I can tell you, those Midwestern brick homes keep the heat in. SoCal, not so much!
Sorry for the digression. How to get to the gym? Very easy:
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When I realized where I was going to live when I moved back to L.A., I rejoined Gold’s, which lets me use their Hollywood, DTLA, or North Hollywood locations as part of the membership (and I think there’s a few more locations in the package, too, but those are the ones I’d mostly frequent). As you can see on the map, it’s an easy 1.5 mile bike ride from my place to the gym on Laurel Canyon, which has a bike lane. Still, the cars go very fast on that street and I’m super cautious. But there are a good number of cyclists and plenty of lights to slow things down.
So instead of driving to the gym, I got some extra cardio coming and going. My workout? Today it was chest and elliptical, which I hadn’t done in awhile.
Link above, but there’s an update: They decided to retry the murderer of Larry King, Brandon McInerney, after all, still as an adult, but without the hate crime allegation. Now we have jurors from the first trial expressing a wish for leniency on the murderer, that in fact he was “bullied” by the victim, a classic case of the “homosexual panic” defense.
This makes me insane!
Can we have a little genderfuck scenario, please, as a bit of illustration just in case some can’t see the blatant homophobia here? Let’s pretend, for an instant, that the victim was a pretty, straight, 15 year old girl, “Jaye.” She’s popular in her school, perhaps she’s a cheerleader or some other kind of teenage extrovert, happily secure in her heterosexuality, so much so that when she meets “Larry,” a classmate who just happens to be a gay kid, Jaye can’t resist the urge to try and “change” him by overt flirting, perhaps exchanging some words back and forth over the period of a semester.
The use of this medication allows men to perform well just after 30 minutes of intake. sample free cialis Researchers say that the watermelon is amazing and effective medicine which is said to be a blessing in disguise for the anti ED medicine market. Dosage and Prices cheapest levitra We feel a little rush having gotten away with it, while also being order viagra usa safe and distant from our victims. Effective Energy Policy is a viagra generic discount “Do or Die” Component for a drug that treats erectile dysfunction. Larry just can’t stand this affront to his own secure sense of self, and he’s just had it up to here, so one day he brings in a handgun and shoots poor Jaye in the back of the head. Twice. Just to make sure the bitch is dead.
We can certainly understand what happened. Jaye was “bullying” Larry; we can understand his revenge even though it was a little extreme. But it’s certainly understandable that gay kids would go into “heterosexual panic” when threatened, so in a way, the killing was justified because of Jaye’s actions, in other words, she brought it on herself.
Let’s assume for an instant, dear reader, that the above scenario is what played out. Can you imagine for a second that we’d be having this conversation about this murder not being a hate crime or even all that serious to begin with?
No, you cannot, because our society is biased toward the majority, toward heterosexuals. Brandon McInerney should be retried for murder, with the hate crime clause intact. IMHO, this kid knew exactly what he was doing. He killed his classmate because Larry was gay.
Here it is, thank you, Nation of Change, for emailing it to me. Reprint and share with your friends, family, co-workers, contacts! Use the language herein when talking about injustice.
This is only the beginning! I’m excited and I’m hopeful for the future.
Please note that when the writers of this statement use “they” at the beginning of a sentence, they are referring to “corporations.” – JA
What follows is the first official, collective statement of the protesters in Zuccotti Park:
As we gather together in solidarity to express a feeling of mass injustice, we must not lose sight of what brought us together. We write so that all people who feel wronged by the corporate forces of the world can know that we are your allies.
As one people, united, we acknowledge the reality: that the future of the human race requires the cooperation of its members; that our system must protect our rights, and upon corruption of that system, it is up to the individuals to protect their own rights, and those of their neighbors; that a democratic government derives its just power from the people, but corporations do not seek consent to extract wealth from the people and the Earth; and that no true democracy is attainable when the process is determined by economic power. We come to you at a time when corporations, which place profit over people, self-interest over justice, and oppression over equality, run our governments. We have peaceably assembled here, as is our right, to let these facts be known.
They have taken our houses through an illegal foreclosure process, despite not having the original mortgage.
They have taken bailouts from taxpayers with impunity, and continue to give Executives exorbitant bonuses.
They have perpetuated inequality and discrimination in the workplace based on age, the color of one’s skin, sex, gender identity and sexual orientation.
They have poisoned the food supply through negligence, and undermined the farming system through monopolization.
They have profited off of the torture, confinement, and cruel treatment of countless animals, and actively hide these practices.
They have continuously sought to strip employees of the right to negotiate for better pay and safer working conditions.
They have held students hostage with tens of thousands of dollars of debt on education, which is itself a human right.
They have consistently outsourced labor and used that outsourcing as leverage to cut workers’ healthcare and pay.
They have influenced the courts to achieve the same rights as people, with none of the culpability or responsibility.
They have spent millions of dollars on legal teams that look for ways to get them out of contracts in regards to health insurance.
They have sold our privacy as a commodity.
They have used the military and police force to prevent freedom of the press.
They have deliberately declined to recall faulty products endangering lives in pursuit of profit.
They determine economic policy, despite the catastrophic failures their policies have produced and continue to produce.
They have donated large sums of money to politicians, who are responsible for regulating them.
They continue to block alternate forms of energy to keep us dependent on oil.
They continue to block generic forms of medicine that could save people’s lives or provide relief in order to protect investments that have already turned a substantial profit.
They have purposely covered up oil spills, accidents, faulty bookkeeping, and inactive ingredients in pursuit of profit.
They purposefully keep people misinformed and fearful through their control of the media.
They have accepted private contracts to murder prisoners even when presented with serious doubts about their guilt.
They have perpetuated colonialism at home and abroad.
They have participated in the torture and murder of innocent civilians overseas.
They continue to create weapons of mass destruction in order to receive government ontracts.*
To the people of the world, We, the New York City General Assembly occupying Wall Street in Liberty Square, urge you to assert your power.
Exercise your right to peaceably assemble; occupy public space; create a process to address the problems we face, and generate solutions accessible to everyone.
To all communities that take action and form groups in the spirit of direct democracy, we offer support, documentation, and all of the resources at our disposal.
Join us and make your voices heard!
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Today is Day 2 of the Car Free Week test run, which is basically to see if I can live without my car in Los Angeles and to see what that would truly be like.
I’ve been car lite for a number of years, off and on, so a lot of the strategies of walk, bike, bus, train, and combining all these modes, are well known to me and I’ve employed them in the past, both here in L.A. and in San Francisco when I lived there.
Of course, today would be the day where it rained like for the first time since last spring, although it was merely sprinkles. Not an issue. In fact, I’m loving the cloud cover.
My dentist, Dr. James McFadden, has an office in the pink and black building at the corner of Melrose and La Cienega in West Hollywood. I currently live in Valley Village, near Magnolia and Radford. Ugh. Probably one of the more difficult commutes of this week to do without a car.
View Larger Map With stunning Hudson River views from the living room and a 360 degree skyline view from the balcony, who would ever want to leave home? Alec Baldwin Renowned actor, comedian, and producer Alec Baldwin is viagra on line known for owning a number of elegant condominium units in the metro. In the case of on line levitra https://pdxcommercial.com/property/barrestaurant-near-intel-hillsboro/ a male Partner, they have to go to the store to obtain any medicines and if you did not get one in the shop then hunt for it in other stores, but these days it is no more like that it has become more simple you can just sit at your home and order for the medicines that you are using. For such man even Sildenafil Citrate should not be used concomitantly. canadian pharmacy sildenafil The chemicals in cigarettes tend to narrow the blood vessels, reducing blood flow to cialis prices in australia the penis and limiting erectile function. If I were using the car, I’d go over the hill at Laurel Canyon. [Note: this map if for public transport options the entire way. I modified it for my bike through Hollywood and WeHo.]
But I wasn’t. I was using my bike, the Red Line train, and the bike. My route getting there was the Chandler bike lane to the North Hollywood Station, then the Red Line to Hollywood/Highland. I took various streets, but mostly Orange Drive, south to Melrose. I crossed south over Melrose at La Brea to the first east-west street south of there, Clinton Street, and took that west on the bike to where it emerges at the intersection of Melrose/LA Cienega. Voila.
Coming back, I took Clinton all the way east to June Street where it ends at the Country Club. Took June north to Willoughby, then east again to Vine, which they’ve made into a more bike-friendly street with share lanes. I took that north for the few blocks to the Hollywood/Vine Station under the W Hotel and then took the train back to NoHo, then onto the Chandler bikeway back to where I live (just east of Laurel Canyon Station).
Thoughts: West Hollywood is not an easy place to get to with public transport, but it’s doable. Many maps will tell you the best bike route east-west in Hollywood is on Willoughby, but I prefer Clinton as it’s a nice neighborhood and few cars. Between June and La Cienega there are lights at every major intersection you need to cross except for Highland, where it’s fairly easy to get across because of the boulevard in the middle of the street, and “Keep Clear” signs for cars which seem to be followed. I didn’t like the bike options from the Hollywood/Highland station, but perhaps I just don’t know the route yet.
Looking at my calendar for this week, this is the most challenging car-less trip I have planned, that I know of for now. Perhaps someone will ask me to come out to Santa Monica or West L.A., but it hasn’t happened yet!
Yesterday (Sunday, October 2 2011) was the West Hollywood Book Fair, concurrent with the grand opening of the new (beauteous!) library in West Hollywood Park.
Homo-Centric booth (thanks Hank Henderson!)
Like last year, I was invited to read something at the Homo-Centric tent (thank you Hank Henderson) and was delighted to do so. Also like last year, what I read was from my novel-in-progress, but the same novel-in- progress as a year ago!
attentive listeners to John Boucher
It’s called The Forest Dark, from the Dante quotation pertaining to midlife, about losing our way, about not knowing which way to turn in the dark wood. Apparently, I’m not knowing which way to turn in my dark home office, either, as the damn thing isn’t done.
To my credit, I will say it’s way more done than last year. So there’s been progress. I wish I was a faster writer. Maybe someday. I still contend that the internet has given me a shorter attention span and I have to use helpers like Freedom and Leechblock to get through any quality time on creative writing.
John Boucher
Richard Villegas reading, Hank Henderson second from left
Kyle T. Wilson reading, Richard Villegas on the right
captive audience!
For your enjoyment and perusal, here is the extract of what I read from Forest Dark, as well as some pictures of me and other morning readers (sorry all the rest of you Homo-Centrics, I had to leave early, though I’ve seen plenty of afternoon pix on Facebook):
Jim Arnold reading at West Hollywood Book Fair, 2011
The Novel’s called The Forest Dark. It’s about the relationship of a gay man, Noah, and his straight female friend, Eden, over the course of about 25 years.
At this point in the story they’ve been separated for most of that time — but Eden’s recently returned to LA for a job and they’ve reconnected in their 50s. This piece comes right after Noah takes a new job as a caretaker at Precious Blood, which is a Catholic retreat house owned by some nuns. Eden’s excited about an upcoming reality show taping, and she’s on the phone with him. The selection is told from Noah’s point of view:
START:
Eden had called twice before but he’d ignored her and only picked up on the third try. It was the stress level, he thought, already high from that first presentation group at Precious Blood.
Which went surprisingly well. It had to, as there was no way Noah could afford to lose this job.
“How did it go – your first day, right?” she asked.
He wondered if she was mocking him.
“No bad, not bad,” he said. “They gave me this gray shirt and pants to wear – like in prison.”
She was quiet. He read her quickly: Noah Baldock had shown so much potential, so much ambition when he was younger. This latest development was really just … depressing.
“Will you wear that on Louie’s show?”
He was making the final rounds of the property for the day, not only checking locks but also looking for anything out of order, a possible clue to something more sinister, the real value to his new employer.
“No one’s said anything about it to me one way or the other. Have you been given some wardrobe instructions, Eden?”
From the convent residence above where he stood, he could hear the nuns singing grace before dinner.
“Actually, this woman called me, said I should ‘reflect that New York social circle’ I run with!” She laughed. “I can’t believe we’re going to be on TV with all these kids!”
Noah took the stone steps down from the main level to the back door of his gatehouse. The scarlet bougainvillea on the property was overgrown and he pushed a branch out of the way. A thorn scraped along his forearm, making a nice, wet, red line.
“Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?” Eden asked.
Inside the small apartment, boxes were still stacked against the wall, though the computer on his desk hummed.
“I cut my arm,” he said, grabbing a towel to stanch the bleed.
“You OK?”
In a cialis 20 mg 1997 randomized clinical trial, researchers found that chiropractic is effective on neck pain. Treating Impotence Issue in Men Treatments of impotence issue like erectile dysfunction include psychotherapy, adopting a healthy lifestyle, oral PDE5 inhibitors (including Sildenafil Citrate, Vardenafil, Tadalafil, and Avanafil (Stendra). purchase cheap cialis click for more Even in case, we wish to return the product, we can do it in much hassle viagra prescription uk free. If sildenafil in canada ronaldgreenwaldmd.com you want to make an order for the glucose to be used as energy you need to make sure that your diet is low fat. He squinted at the computer screen where a dot blinked, indicating there was a new message for him. “It’s just a scrape, Eden, I’ll be fine.”
“I can come over. Or, I could call Louie, he’s closer – ”
“I’M FINE!”
* * *
The Precious Blood gatehouse had a door built right into the outer wall, meant for packages and vendors and such, but equally useful for tricks, Noah figured.
He all but hung up on Eden. Noah was as angry with himself as he was with her – after all these years, still falling for her shit, being on the yanking end of that von Eiff chain.
Bitch should’ve stayed in New York, she’ll only fuck up everything Louie’s got going, he thought.
There was a little silver bell hung on the outside of this door, something an old nun would’ve thought heavenly. It rang.
This would be Mockingbird.
The dark-skinned, dark-haired man wore a black t-shirt and black jeans and black, ankle-high boots. The blue, green and yellow of a parrot tattoo on his forearm stood out as the only bit of color.
“Finally,” Noah said, pulling Mockingbird in by the arm so he could shut the door quickly.
“So – this is your new place,” the younger man said, taking it in, a thin smile on his handsome face.
Noah had “met” Mockingbird online, but his constant text-spelling mistakes proved problematic. He’d then run into him for real at the Eagle one night, and those earlier failings were forgotten.
Mockingbird was shorter and rougher; as far as Noah was concerned, the perfect friend with benefits. He didn’t even care if he never found out what his “real” name was, undoubtedly something mundane like Hector or Juan.
“You like it?”
The main floor was all one big room, with the kitchen set off by a sparkly, formica-covered “bar” someone must’ve added in the 1960s. At the far end, next to the bathroom and the door that led to the interior courtyard, was a narrow brick staircase leading up to the loft bedroom.
“It’ll take some getting used to,” Noah said, placing his hand against Mockingbird’s chest, his fingers a lazy circle in search of a nipple. “I was in the old place for almost 30 years.”
Mockingbird grabbed Noah’s forearm and squeezed it, hard. “Don’t remind me, you’re older than my father and I don’t want to think about that.” He twisted it, making Noah gasp. He used his other hand to push Noah’s shoulder down, forcing him to his knees.
Noah knew this script well. He pulled at the younger man’s belt buckle but had only got it part way undone when Mockingbird slapped him across the face.
“Not so fast, old man. You got your bed here somewhere, am I right?”
“It’s upstairs.”
“Sir.”
“It’s upstairs, sir.” His cheek smarted – but this was only the beginning.
Mockingbird pushed Noah up the steps and he tripped.
“Get your ass up there!” Mockingbird lifted him by his belt and shoved him further.
“Quiet, sir, I don’t want to disturb the nuns.”
“Fucking nuns, I’ll show your goddamn nuns!”
Noah could only pray that the hard slaps Mockingbird then delivered, along with his resulting sighs and yelps, got mixed in with traffic noise and the occasional helicopter flyovers. He couldn’t even begin to think what Octavia and her sisters would do if they knew what was going on.
After he let Mockingbird out an hour later, he ran a hot bath in the small tub, while Harry Connick, Jr. played the piano on a CD. Noah’s ass was red from the spanking he got and his butthole sore from Mockingbird’s aggressive fuck.
For once he didn’t care about Jivan or Eden or Louie’s stupid reality show. He sank back into the lilac bubbles and closed his eyes.
* * *
So dear reader, tell me: what do you do to keep the nuns from hearing your sex noises?
It’s good they are cleaning it up, it’s not so good it’s going to take so long, but I’m going to keep my fingers crossed and expect the results will be spectacular.
Echo Park and its lake figure quite prominently in my own L.A. history.
When I first moved to the city in 1981, Echo Park was given as the freeway exit to take to get me to my new apartment, rented sight unseen from Milwaukee. So, indeed, Echo Park Avenue was the first city street I ever drove on in L.A. if you don’t count the freeway.
At first, I used the circular path in the park as a running track. This didn’t last long, however, because so many of the local residents (at the time) brought their dogs, sans leash, who would chase me down without mercy. As much as I pleaded with the cholos friendly neighbors to observe the signs that said dogs should be on leashes, alas, I was ignored at best and threatened at worst. Vascular disease is yet another problem which plagues men cute-n-tiny.com buy levitra from canada constantly. The easiest way to cute-n-tiny.com generic levitra prices to find out if you or a family member would are eligible for one such programs by way of studying the section which says Personal Help. The allograft tissue isn’t cheap viagra like other grafts in that it comes from the patient. There could be several viagra australia online reasons that may be affecting your sexual health and wellbeing.
Since then, long since I stopped jogging, there have been picnics, first date strolls, and a couple of press conferences for a job I had (the park has an excellent backdrop view of the downtown L.A. skyline behind the fountains).
Whenever I cross over the park’s little bridge above the giant lily pads I think of Jake Gittes and the duplicitous older woman in “Chinatown” (Ida Sessions), who lived in an apartment court nearby.
He finds her murdered with her bag of groceries strewn across the floor. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if there’s a couple of bodies dredged up in the sediment.
So, what are your memories, past/present, of Echo Park? I’d really like to hear all the dirt, separate from that being dredged from the lake bottom.
Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco, yesterday. Pictures, in this case, speak louder than words. It was a great weekend but I am tired.
UPDATE, 9/27/11. OK, this post has now gotten WAY more views than any other blog post in my two years or so of doing this! Now I know what it is you want to see. Not that I’m surprised.
Kink.com
cat got your tongue, boy?
Thank you Mistress April!
Good boy.
I feel the blood rushing to my head.
Father Brennan, there you are!
no can watch.
Yes, he really is doing what you think he’s doing.
more flags
little dog, necktie, Britney, and jockstrap.
Thanksgiving early?
sometimes hair extensions rock with the net gloves, sometimes not
fan dancer
Hello Daddies
This was Bound Jocks
naughty boys at Manhunt
posing for me
This man’s girlfriend kept shouting, “harder!”
oh, master
the curious
ouch
no, it’s not makeup
Red Cake Buns
He was singing “Wichita Lineman”
innovative
Dancers and the Go Go Boy
More Go Go Boy
Another Dancer
More Dancers
Tribe
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Or is it only an illusion or myth that we were, collectively, any other way – other than selfish, self-centered bastards only out for Number One?
I used to be insulted at the concept of the “Greatest Generation” – basically those people who grew to adulthood during the Depression then fought World War II and either died for their country or came back and built the economic powerhouse that was the American Middle Class. I was insulted because that was not my generation, those born in the generation after, we Baby Boomers, those of us who reaped the success of the most robust economy the world has ever known.
But now I really do see the point of the adulation and see that it’s accurate. These were people, many of whom probably did not agree with the war effort, who nonetheless selflessly joined the effort to defeat the fascists because they realized that a group effort would work, this national project would work, that the alternative was hell.
Consequently, they returned home and kept that “we’re all in this together” spirit of the battlefield, realizing that the collective building of schools, of roads, sewers, hospitals and all of that was for the good of everybody, and that nobody got to where they did only because of their own sweat or their own grace. These people knew this. They felt it in their bones.
How did we forget? Because the infrastructure was built. Somewhere in the late 70s or early 80s we, as a country, decided the U.S. was built as far as it was going to be and now it was time to take the spoils, to be greedy, to get as much for ourselves as we could before it all came crashing down, and hopefully we’d either be set or we’d be dead by then.
It’s really not a pretty picture, and didn’t have to turn out this way. I have no idea how we can recapture that essence in this country. Still, I hope it’s not a lost cause. Any ideas?
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I worked there in the late 80s to mid-90s; still probably the most fun location to ever have a paying job, at least in my working life. And that was before the on-lot Coffee Bean, which in my way of thinking adds much currency to the entire idea.
When reading this piece, it was like a deja vu: Frank Mancuso’s name was mentioned not once, but twice, and in reverence both times. It was like my old boss there (Deborah Rosen) had a hand in the story (maybe she did, who knows) – as it was her job to get favorable corporate communications for the studio. Interesting certainly that the names Brandon Tartikoff, Stanley Jaffe and Sherry Lansing were not brought up at all, and Brad Grey only in passing.
their shop canadian prices for viagra By normalizing sexual health, this Ajanta Pharma product is manufactured in three diverse forms of use-tablets, jellies and soft tablets. ESPN Mobile TV (available on MediaFLO and MobiTV and via best viagra pills Sprint) will deliver news, analysis and feature video programs. These kinds of herbal products enable you to exercise more and be more active while also clearing and viagra france pharmacy sharpening your mind. Impotence is a sex dysfunction in guys of a specific age. levitra on line 100mg works much like another pharmaceutical which is utilized inside the administration of PDE5 enzymes. Mancuso hasn’t been the head of the studio for 20 years. Surely a lot of improvements have been made in the interim, I know, because I was there working or visited after I was laid off.
That’s another thing about Paramount: as much fun as it was being a nice place to go to work, what with all the flowers, fountains, movie stars and whatnot, I and just about everyone I knew there (well, almost everyone) eventually got fired (including the aforementioned boss) – kind of like that water tower which isn’t really a water tower at all, just the top of an enormous meat grinder.
There is no grudge, I know all too well that everything ends. So I’m glad they’re in the process of creating jobs for future Paramount ex-employees.
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