This site is currently under construction. Though the blog is active semi-daily, the portfolio has been mostly archived and will only showcase newer work—anything done before 2020 will remain offline. As I’m currently working on a variety of new projects, there will be significant updates throughout the fall and winter. (There will also be a regular front page directing to the portfolio instead of the blog, but due to the fact writing is the only really active part of the site right now, I keep it on the front page.)

Anyway, thanks for visiting and hopefully the actual content of the site will be up sooner rather than later.

I hate The Grove. It’s one of two gaudy, outdoor malls in Los Angeles by a billionaire who lost the race for mayor four years ago (the other being The Americana). In the past, I’ve found myself at the latter to catch a movie in the middle of the day because it’s down the street from my mechanic and I’d need to kill a couple hours while my car was in the shop. The Grove, though, I avoided at all costs.

Now, I can’t. At least not if I want to see a new movie.

Since theaters re-opened in 2021 or 2022, I’ve been using AMC’s A-List membership. I see a shit-ton of movies and the cost pays for itself if I go just twice a month. However, I’ve also lived in East Hollywood that whole time—just a 12-minute drive from the Burbank multiplex with its 30 screens and free parking.

A couple months ago, I moved into what is basically my dream place. There’s really nothing to complain about—except now that I’m in Westlake, Burbank is a much further drive and now the closest AMC theater is at The Grove, with its 14 screens and $6 parking.

An afternoon at The Grove

There are any number of reasons I hate this place. An outpost of capitalism, there’s a kind of faux classiness to it all. There are ‘luxury’ stores but the experience of being at one of these malls is anything but. It’s the shopping center version of pleather. (Kind of ironic given Rodeo Drive is just three miles west, down Third to Beverly Hills.)

One thing going to The Grove does for me though, is that it reminds me how different people can be. It’s a real removal from my comfort zone. I walk around completely confused as to how people of all ages go to this place willingly and un-ironically, just to like, hang out. It is mystifying.

Consumerism in America is so central to national identity that places like The Grove really make me think about how the notion of what you want at a material level seeps in to every aspect of life—how being presented with certain options is disguised as being catered to, and what that means for how we view our politics. These sorts of places use the model of collective gathering to spur on the notion of individualism, and I think that’s far more destructive to the human condition of living in the United States than the specific economic model of capitalism (though the two are inextricably linked).

Leo’s on Pico

Picking up al pastor tacos from Leo’s has been a long-standing late-night lifesaver for me when I forget to go to the grocery store on any given day. Needed such a thing today and found out there’s a location not ten blocks from my new digs. Getting delicious tacos from the parking lot of a car wash while a few college kids smoke a joint and clean an old Hyundai Elantra a couple bays up is certainly a vibe.

Mornings in the studio with the cats

Every morning the cats and I head into the studio. I bring something caffeinated and the laptop to start the day with some writing and they enjoy having a large, open space to run around and harass each other in. Some days I can get started on a painting project—most, I end up retiring back to the apartment to work on music instead. It’s a little easier to break a habit there, perhaps because I’ve not been doing it as long as visual art.

The thing is, when you spend nearly two decades pouring a vodka before starting a painting, suddenly trying to paint without that drink is like trying to start a car without a key. Yes, there are ways to do it, but it’s not easy. I have not yet figured it out.

I tend to overthink things, and the one thing that drinking always did was quiet my mind. I could focus in ways that I just can’t otherwise. The overwhelming thoughts of futility and despair send me into a state of paralysis that Nothing really matters anyway so why bother starting anything. Alcohol always quieted that voice, at least just enough where I could work uninterrupted for hours on end.

So I don’t really know what to do about it. I watch the cats. I stare at the blank canvases, lining the wall. People go about their day, walking by down the sidewalk outside, none really noticing me sitting on this couch. There’s a 24-hour liquor store a block away. Five years without a drink and the gains feel minimal, at best—certainly not offsetting the fact I’ve lost touch with the only part about myself I ever really liked.

We take things one day at a time in recovery, but I look at all the days behind me and wonder how much I could have accomplished by now. I’ve barely picked up a paintbrush in five years. I’ve not taken a single photograph. Usually I’d have published three books by now. There are costs and benefits to every choice, and so many people in my life smile and talk about how quitting drinking is the best thing they’ve ever done. I’m worried that for me, it’s been the worst.

Ten-day outlook

What in the absolute fuck.

This will now be the third heat wave this summer where temperatures reach in the mid-to-high-nineties for over seven days in a row. Granted, this is only my sixth summer in LA, but nothing has come close to this since I’ve lived here.

Reflecting

There’s this really famous scene from the first season of The West Wing where, after an episode of built-up debate surrounding funding for public education, Rob Lowe makes this speech about how, “Education is the silver bullet.” It’s been on my mind today.

This liberal-minded idea that if we were all just smarter everything would be magically fixed about society is pretty insane. Every election it’s a manufactured debate—how did the college-educated vote against the non-college-educated? It becomes a whole discourse, another thing that keeps us divided.

But those Cornell rapists? Well, they’re going to Cornell. Aren’t they educated? George W Bush, Dick Cheney, the Clintons, and JD Vance all went to Yale. Benjamin Netanyahu graduated from MIT while taking classes at Harvard. Richard Nixon went to Duke. I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to go to Oxford to be Prime Minister in England. Half of the psychopath tech guys in Silicon Valley attended Stanford.

I do believe that all education should be free and excellent, but these ideas that cross into areas of discrimination and bias about intellect and aptitude and leadership can really irk me. The people who have done the most harm to the world are the ones who come from the best schools. An education happens in many ways outside of reading pages from a book and it doesn’t take much time to see in the news what these men are really learning in American schools.