The L.A. Dime

A good band can capture a period of our life and freeze it in time forever. Hearing a song can often take us back to not just a certain year or a certain mood, but maybe even a specific night and specific moment when a song had particular relevance. In the past few years, I’ve seen two of my favorite bands from childhood perform live. At Coachella, The Cure, and last night at Dodger Stadium, The Police. Unfortunately, neither show lived up to my expectations – which were admittedly too high, held aloft by memory, lost zeitgeist, and years of listening to perfect CD recordings.

Let’s just say that Robert Smith is no Sting. At Coachella, Smith was fat, lazy, and uninspired, complaining of the heat we had endured for 12 hours after only being on stage himself for about 12 minutes. And The Cure made the classic mistake of “playing some stuff off our new album” that nobody cared about. As you might expect, Sting looked great. And while he wasn’t as energetic or enlivening as Bono (still the best mega-band front man to watch live), he seemed to be enjoying himself, the music, and the crowd, while playing through a list of greatest hits. He can’t hit some of the high notes anymore, nor can he sustain long notes or pacing as he once did, but hey — he’s still Sting. Stewart Copeland (drums) kept the show alive and the band together with an all-out, passion-filled, percussion assault. He was loving every second of it. Andy Summers on guitar was there, played his parts, but didn’t leave a lasting impression – even during several guitar solos seemingly designed to let us know he can still play.

The reasons for my disappointment have to do with the money, the venue, and the show itself. First off, Dodger Stadium was dripping money last night. 55,000 people who paid on average $200 to see the show, $20 to park, $35 for a T-shirt, and $5.50 for a bottle of water or $7.50 for a beer. It’s sickening. Plus, this was my first stadium concert, and while it was cool to see the band against the backdrop of mountains at dusk, there is too much distance between the performers and the crowd and it saps the energy from the show. And regarding the show, in my opinion, they made the second biggest mistake a “come back tour” can make, which is to jam too much and take away our joy at hearing the songs as we love and remember them. There were jazz versions, ska versions, melodic versions, but in general, everything was slowed down to the point where people were in their seats during “Don’t Stand So Close to Me,” “Roxanne,” and a bunch of other usually up-tempo tunes.

This was a “hey, look at us we’re back on stage” show. It was a variety show. It was not a kick-ass rock show by one of the best post-punk bands ever. Am I right to be disappointed? Each of The Police is, as am I, a different and much older person than we were in 1984 when they broke up. Should I just be happy to see them and hear who they’ve become? Am I wrong to hope for a trip back to junior high when theirs was the first cassette tape I ever bought, and first rock band T-shirt I ever owned? Or maybe my understanding of who and what they are and were is limited by the perceptions of a 11 year-old boy stretched by the passing of twenty years. I just know what I felt, and what I felt was a little disappointed, a little ripped off, and a little sad.

Foo Fighters opened the show and played a long greatest hits set, delivered energy, volume, and some outright fun as front-man Dave Grohl jumped off the stage and took a lap around Dodger stadium, continuing to play with the band all the while. He did that at Coachella the first time I ever saw them play, and both times left a deeper impression than anything I can remember about seeing The Cure or The Police.

It sucks to be sick any time of the year, but why is it that summer colds seem worse? One theory is that in the winter we don’t mind being sick as much b/c we’re stuck inside, anyway. But I can pretty much go outside in shorts year-round out here, and this cold Tina and I have is pretty bad, so I don’t think it’s just the season. Maybe the heat makes us more miserable? Could it be biology somehow? Are viruses more virulent from May-August? Or is it all just a myth? If anyone has knowledge or an opinion on the subject, please feel free to comment.

A while back I did a little post about The Aroma Café in Studio City on Tujunga, where I saw Jack Coleman, who plays Mr. Bennett on Heroes. Yesterday I had lunch at its sister restaurant, The Alcove Café and Bakery in Los Feliz. The coffee was spectacular, the Pesto Turkey Panini with side caesar was very good, and the atmosphere is cool — but maybe like Aroma — just a little too cool, despite a noticeable absence of any Heroes. There is mostly outdoor seating, and at 1:00 P.M., my friend Zach and I were threatened with eating in one of our cars, or letting loose someone’s dog so we could grab a table as its owner gave chase. The place was packed, but lightened up considerably by 1:30. Check it out if you’re in the neighborhood and feeling swank.

Making room for Sophia, we finished up the painting and relocated my office into the guest room this past weekend. It’s now a comfortable combo room that I’m enjoying quite a bit. We got the idea to leave a frame of the old paint on one of the walls from Tina’s Mom, Marion, and it looks pretty cool.

I’ve determined that I’m just an awful painter. Patience, attention to detail, and a steady hand are required — I thought I had two of the three, but struggled mightily finishing two bathrooms and bedroom without destroying the entire house.

We had an odd feeling standing in the empty room that once was the office and will now be a nursery. In a few short weeks a little person will be living there and our lives will be quite different. Are we ready? I know one thing — we need to get some stuff in there soon, b/c an empty room in a full house is creepy.

Compounding our preparations, Tina got a nasty summer cold last week, it’s still dragging her down, and now I’m fighting it off, too. Lots of Emergen-C and clear liquids.

Tina hates Mac. She likes the commercials, thinks they’re funny, but just doesn’t get the whole Apple thing. Maybe it speaks to a workplace divide because she’s in the business world where PCs dominate, and I work in the arts where Macs rule, and artsy Mac users think PC people are sell-out clones, and businessy PC people think Mac users are day-dreaming stoners who need to get a real job. But I think her gripe (and hopefully she’ll clarify) is that it’s all just a hype thing. Too much money for a product that sells on looking cool and being artsy-fartsy, yet only controls 3% of the computer marketplace. I happen to believe Mac sells a better product, but I also believe the phenomenon is a bit of hipster hype job, too. A blog I’ve just discovered, Fake Steve Jobs, pokes fun at Mac and the cult of personality at its core in a Stephen Colbert kinda way, providing lots of free satirical entertainment for Cloners and Stoners alike.

And so it begins. The third trimester. And with it have come stomach problems, back pain, blisters on her feet, and a sore throat — all while leaving on a trip to 107 degree Arizona today, and Canada next week. She’s a trooper, though, she takes good care of herself, and is enjoying her pregnancy. Sophie played games with us again last night as she was listening to the iPod. We tapped the belly (gently, of course), and then she tapped back. Hopefully she’ll be as responsive in September when we ask her to flip over and put her head down for easy exit.

Last night, Tina passed out after a long day at work and an evening taping walls in the bathrooms for this weekend’s upcoming Paintathon. We decided to give Sophie a little concert, and she responded by dancing around the womb when we put on some Bob Marley (which is what she’ll hear when she enters this world, as mommy wants Bob jammin’ in the delivery room). Other artists on Sophie’s play list were Harry Connick Jr. and Bright Eyes. Then, I read her and mommy a Bukowski poem, as well as a chapter from a baby book about how hearing music and reading from outside the womb may make her brilliant.  After that, we all three went to bed.

….we had finally made an important decision to not let celebrities get away with just about anything (and waste media time on such pointless stories), here we go again. As I was waiting for Sophie to cease her nightly exercise routine (which kept me from falling asleep), I was thinking how fabulous it was that Paris Hilton’s judge actually threw the book at her and sentenced her. I then wondered how long she’d actually stay in….well, driving to work this morning I learned that after only 3 days (out of a 23-day sentence), she’s free as a bird. Who knows what the details are (and who really cares) but it’s completely ridiculous. I don’t even want to waste any more of my own time writing about this topic (and the reasons why this gets under my skin), but I just had to ask: What makes her so special? When will we stop letting money buy freedom and when will people in charge grow a backbone and stick to what’s right?

What a fantastic husband I am, leaving my six-months-pregnant wife home alone with contractors, Merry Maids, and Stanley Steamer for 10 days whilst I was off in Louisville staying in a five-star hotel, drinking bourbon, and teaching screenwriting. She came through it brilliantly, though, and is considering a second career as a construction forewoman.

Spalding was an amazing experience. Students and faculty from all over the country and the world flying into Louisville to live and work together at the historic and super-posh Brown Hotel for ten whole days. It’s intense, diverse, and a great environment for writers of any ilk, be they poets, novelists, playwrights, or screenwriters. It’s perfectly tailored for those who need something more flexible than a traditional MFA program. Essentially, we meet together for ten days at the start of each semester, then fly home and work apart, corresponding through phone and email to get the work done. Check out the particulars at Spalding’s MFA in Writing website.

I also had occasion to experience something truly profound whilst in the ‘Ville. I met my nephew, Sawyer, for the first time when he came down along with Chad, Mandee, Brian, Tasha, and my parents to celebrate Chad and Brian’s birthday. We had hot browns capped off with flaming chocolate for desert at the Brown’s Thoroughbred restaurant.

But the highlight was definitely holding little Sawyer, rubbing his bald head, his paunchy belly, and staring into those bright blue eyes looking out into the world with wild wonder. Our family has expanded three times now through marriage, but a baby brings a different newness to the group, providing us all with a common point for reconnection, and new blood which will surely make things interesting down the road. I can’t wait to watch Sawyer grow up, and I look forward to his friendship with our little bouncey once she is born.

All told, it was a long, exhausting trip, including an eight hour holdover in O’Hare that ultimately lead myself and another Spalding professor (Rachel Harper, author of a Brass Ankle Blues which you must read) to arrive in Louisville by car nine hours behind schedule and without our luggage. Avoid Chicago at all costs.

Oh, and thanks to Steve, Chandra, Michael, and Paige for giving me a place to crash Sunday night.

It’s good to be home.

Looks like we survived!! The construction crew has left and other than a few minor details (like needing brighter bulbs in our new recess lights, and wanting to re-paint the bathroom since my color choice wasn’t the best — man, is choosing paint a pain), we are really enjoying the improvements. The tile and shower look awesome!!! No more arch. No more ugly mirrors in the foyer. It is certainly a more updated look.

Here’s how it all went down, with before, during, and after photos. Let us know what you think, then come see in person!