Skid Row on Easter weekend; the scene is both sad and festive. Arches of pastel colored balloons float over the trash filled intersections. White folding tables are being set up along 5^th street, as the hungry crowds line the sidewalks. There are long queues forming in front of the missions. This is the only celebration I am unhappy to see with such a full attendance.

 A man with a heavy accent shouts something obscene at me, and I pick up pace as I hurry down toward San Pedro. Today I’m on my way to the Midnight Mission, Los Angeles’s longest running mission, to meet with the president Larry Adamson. As I turn the corner, I recognize the icon on the side of a building ahead of me: a lonely figure in a trench coat.

 The sidewalks have been freshly hosed down in front of the business office. I walk inside.

After leaving my name at the front desk, I have a look at the bits of old bottles and other relics on display in the foyer. Later Larry Adamson tells me that when the mission moved locations, archeologists excavated artifacts from the remnants of the railroad that used to occupy this land. Continue reading Easter at Midnight →

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Foreword by Stan Lerner: so people have asked for the female counterpart of Downtown Oliver Brown—HERE IT IS!

Adventures of Betty Booze…

“A LITTLE BAD TASTE IS LIKE A NICE DASH OF PAPRIKA.” – Dorothy Parker

Look at the word ASSISTANT. What do you see? Since you’re the listener in this interaction I’ll tell you what I see. ASS. The fact that THAT word begins with ASS, can’t be a coincidence. Either you’re made to feel like one, treated like one, or constantly kissing one… with very few exceptions.

Pardon me while I pour a glass of whiskey….

Before starting this gig “dialoguiqly  accosting” the “privileged”, or as you may refer to them “celebrities”, I was ASS-isting them. Notably, Gunner Blaze, of the BAMBOO PALACE TRILOGY… With a name like Gunner Blaze, had I not been from earth, my initial deduction would have been: this f*cking guy’s a firefighting porn star. The latter I was correct about… got more ass in a week than David Hasselhoff does in Germany ALL year. That’s saying A LOT.

Excuse me while I prepare another glass of “juice”…

Okay…So… I’ve been trying this new whiskey called Bulliet, VERDICT…? Fongule’n heaven. Goes down easier than Paris Hilton. I first tried Bulliet at Seven Grand downtown… I THINK… had I not consumed enough to get the old version of Star Jones drunk, I may, right now, be able to recall the night, and give you a sufficient review of the drinkery. My apologies. I’ll go back, and give you the full breakdown.

Someone keeps liberating my glass of its companion… hold on, I’ve got to fix a new one… sorry.

Don’t worry, I won’t be getting that drunk when I do my next interview. I learned my lesson when interviewing Andy Dick… I wound up coked out of my mind, wearing a tutu and surrounded by midget strippers, who were by no exaggeration the CUTEST f*cking things I’ve ever seen.  It was like waking up in a David Fincher film, but not that cool because, as I said, I was with Andy Dick.

 Okay, sorry… sometimes I ramble… BUT, to get back to Gunner. Continue reading Betty Booze →

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