Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
I used to live alone and while I currently don't miss it, one aspect of it that I enjoyed is that I could do whatever strange things I felt like at any hour of day or night without anyone noticing or being bothered by it or, you know, worrying about me. When I had insomnia I would get up and watch Trinity Broadcast Network for hours while cutting little squares out of magazines, to lull myself into a soft cloud of tedium and spin my racing thoughts into happy nonsense until they exhausted themselves. When I was a teenager I would watch the static on the tv, but anyone who's tried that knows it doesn't lead you anywhere good. Trinity Broadcast Network is amazing because you can watch it for a really long time and experience good feelings without absorbing any actual information to trouble yourself with. Then something will happen like Kirk Cameron and the banana thing (you know what I'm talking about), and I have to dance around the room with excitement because I can barely believe what I just saw.
The last time I watched it was quite a while ago, and Smokey Robinson was there!
I wonder if Jan Crouch is still on it. I remember the first time I saw her I must have been in my early teens and I had a lot of trouble trying to understand how a person ends up so unreal.
Also one time I called that Orange County area code number at five in the morning, and you can leave a prayer request for yourself on the voicemail.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
“I came to Los Angeles from Philadelphia, where I had lived for five years, attending art school. Philadelphia is known as the City of Brotherly Love, but when I was there, it was a hellhole. There wasn’t a lot of love in that city. I arrived in L.A. at night, so it wasn’t until the next morning, when I stepped out of a small apartment on San Vicente Boulevard, that I saw this light. And it thrilled my soul. I feel lucky to live with that light.
I love Los Angeles. I know a lot of people go there and they just see a huge sprawl of sameness. But when you're there for a while, you realize that each section has it's own mood. The Golden Age of cinema is still alive there, and the smell of jasmine at night, and the beautiful weather...and the light is inspiring and energizing. Even with smog there's something about that light that's not harsh, but bright and smooth. It fills me with the feeling that all possibilities are available. I don't know why. It's different from the light in other places. The light in Philadelphia, even in the summer, is not nearly as bright.
It was the light that brought everybody to LA to make films in the early days. It's still a beautiful place."
I was listening to the audio book version of "Catching The Big Fish" by David Lynch when I found myself tearing up at this passage, on the bus no less. I guess this could be partially attributed to the fact that I was having a rotten Oregon winter day, but I believe it also happens to be beautifully expressed and true.
I used to sit in the orange tree in my backyard and stare up at the blinking red and amber lights of the Mt. Wilson observatory atop the inky mountains that loomed over us. The sky was a dull plum color that glowed from within from the smog and distant lights of downtown. I felt very alone-but-not-alone and thought it was impossible that I could be the only one that saw the things I did. How people can function in that light I still don't understand.