Monday, February 28, 2011

Your Oscars Buzz: Best Picture Cocktail Pairings

With thoughts of the Oscars swimming around in my head last Wednesday night, I had an idea. Why not pair a cocktail with each movie nominated for Best Picture? Planning to attend a friend's Oscar party, it seemed like the perfect guide for hosts. The next morning I pulled all four of my trusty cocktail books from my bookshelf, dusted them off and started flipping through the pages of libations and mocktails. Shortly thereafter I had my first list of pairings and pitched the article to my LAist editors. They loved the idea, and by Friday afternoon the piece was ready for publishing. You may indulge here.

I must admit, I indulged a bit too much during Sunday's party, mostly because I was joined by a fun group of fellow celebrities (I may have been wearing my bridesmaids dress from my brother's wedding last June and pretending to be Cameron Diaz) and partly due to my recent research.

Though I didn't catch every speech from last night's show, I witnessed my darling Natalie win a well-deserved Academy Award. I slept soundly.

One question still remains: Where was James Franco for most of the night? I assume he was backstage taking bong rips, but seriously, Hathaway carried the duo. All the more proof that women are superior.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Harlan Ellison - Paid to Piss

I love this 3.5 minute rant by Harlan Ellison on the lack of funds bestowed to writers. This video is almost 3 years old but still sadly relevant.

"I sell my soul but at the highest rates. I don't take a piss without getting paid for it."

Blunt but honest, Harlan.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Vagina Art

Karen LeCocq, a feminist artist, lecturer and activist, is not particularly fond of the term "vagina art." After chatting with her last Thursday, I understand her stance. To refer to feminist art in this way, as many people do, undermines the entire second-wave of the Women's Movement. Feminist art shocked our nation and plowed through boundaries that, without female fists, might still repress women today. Karen spoke passionately yet playfully about how we, as a society, tend to ignore the past. I agree that we must learn from the past in order to not repeat it, to appreciate the present and to anticipate the future. My respect for her and the other women who ignited the feminist art movement in the 1970s grew considerably while listening to her stories.

This elation intensified while crafting the article on her lecture, which took place this past Sunday at Craftswoman House in Pasadena. It lasted through Saturday afternoon until I read a disturbing article, courtesy of MoveOn.org, listing ten disgusting Republican proposals affecting women's rights. Striking and  destroying my jolly lady power bubble, the list opened my gates and in flooded worry. I panicked for our future. But the knowledge of how much we've accomplished for women's rights and how undeniably strong and capable we are quickly replaced my fears with a wonderful sense of empowerment.

Republicans, you have waged a war on women. You have attacked our basic rights to own control of our bodies. You are a mindless mass of ignorant bodies, devoid of compassion, unworthy of being called humans. You wish to test us, GOP? Bring it. We will fight you to the death. And we will win. We are civil soldiers armed with tenacity, vigor and good ol' fashioned intellect. We will destroy you.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Recent Articles for Circus Lovers and Contemporary Art Enthusiasts

I love writing for LAist. I've been doing so for the past month, and I've never felt so creatively fulfilled and proud of my work. All topics I've pitched, they've accepted. Recently granted access to their posting platform, I won't need to bug my editor quite as often, plus I feel like a part of the family.

A large portion of my research is interviewing subjects. Since I'm still a gimp, I've been forced to rely on phone interviews. Don't get me wrong, I love doing them and they're much more convenient than actual rendezvous, but I like people. I enjoy talking to them, face-to-face, noting their quirks, their style, their treat preferences, all those delightful traits to which I'm blind when conversing on the phone. 

Having recently discovered Google Voice, phone interviews are much more enjoyable now. I'm no longer pounding on my keyboard in a desperate attempt to capture every word and quote. I love quotes. And with this system, I record all conversations for reference. No typing as I'm interviewing means full engagement in the conversation. It's quite wonderful. One thing - Google Voice, you really need to upgrade your system to record received calls. I can't complain much since this system is free, but it's not ideal to call someone, then ask them to call you on a different number. But c'est la vie. I'll go cry in the corner since there are no other issues plaguing the world.

My most recent interviews and articles inspired me greatly. I chatted with Patrick, the owner of C.A.V.E. Gallery in Venice to gain more insight into the gallery's newest collection, 'Outside, Looking In,' which opened last Friday. He's a warm man with a giant heart for art. I cannot wait to meet him. Checkout my article here.

The other event I covered last week was 'Behind the Striped Curtain,' an insane circus art exhibition at Rothick Art Haus in Anaheim. I interviewed Michael White, the featured artist. Our chat consisted of much laughter, as he's quite a funny lad, and great amounts of information on his inspirations, life and excitement for the show's opening. Never able to include all the tidbits, I'll save them for the next piece on White. You can enjoy my coverage here.

If either exhibit interests you, they're both still on display. In fact, they both better interest you, or I haven't done my job. Or you're boring.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Polenta Pie with Wild Mushroom Filling

Sounds tasty, doesn’t it? I know it does. That’s why we chose it as the dish I will conquer this evening to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Currently an avid calorie counter using MyFitnessPal, I began entering in the teaspoons, tablespoons, ounces, cups, sprigs and pounds of ingredients into my food tracker to create the recipe and determine how many slices of savory pie I can enjoy tonight. Hopefully the result > 1. While building the list, I’m thinking about Valentine’s Day, remembering the days when I was single and bitter, hating on this annual commemoration, agreeing with the many others who refer to it as a “Hallmark holiday,” a sad excuse to stop being a lazy lover and neglecting your loved one for a day, a slap in the face reminder that YOU ARE SINGLE. NO ONE LOVES YOU. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE ALONE. So sad. So solo. I recall plans to steal my father’s bow and arrow, hunt down Cupid and maliciously prick his chubby white ass. Several times. But now these thoughts are just silly. One mate always outlives the other. You run the risk of dying alone anyways. Someone has always loved me. And so what if I was single? I was never more independent in my life.

As I typed “extra-virgin olive oil,” I started thinking about sex because that’s just how my mind works. I began to really appreciate this romantic day. Admittedly, I am quite the corporate-hating petition-signing activist who just wants the world to be a better place. And if there’s a time when I can hate on an event, a commercial farce that’s become a multibillion dollar day which wastes resources, promotes the creation and selling of paper cards and wrappings, fosters the sale of blood diamonds, encourages supporting flower farms where violent labor abuses transpire, Valentine’s Day is it. But I don’t hate this day. I actually love it. Hudson is my first and hopefully last love, and while we’re a pretty kickass team, there are days when I should grab him a gift just because. I should cook dinner to thank him for taking outstanding care of me since day one of this year. I should make dessert, too. But sometimes I just forget. And we’re all a little guilty of lacking in habitual romantic gestures.

In my opinion, February 14 is a needed reminder to stop and think about the one who has claimed that once empty chamber in your heart. The one person you go to for everything. Your best friend. The one being who knows everything about you, probably too much. The man or woman who sees you for everything that you are and still loves you - who sees you, studies you, arranges you into neat little sections and scrutinizes those and still decides you are worth his or her love, time and life. In a world where we’re racing through life, sometimes failing to LIVE life, reminders are good. Reminders are great. And if you celebrate Valentine’s Day efficiently, where, in my opinion again, you send an eCard or recycled paper card, you buy local flowers thus support your local florist, like from my wonderful friend, Bubba AKA Adriene, you purchase handmade jewelry, you choose chocolates from a local sweetery, why not glorify today? Or don’t buy a thing. Just say “I love you” too many times (which is impossible) et donnez des baisers all over your beloved.

If you don’t have a mate, you must have a friend. You must have family. There is someone out there who you at least like. Call him. Write to her. Do something to show your appreciation of that person. If not amorous, it’s at least supportive outreach. Make someone feel special, even if society is practically forcing you to do so.

Tonight, I award my love with the awesomely vegan dish titling this blog entry plus not-quite-vegan but healthy-ish homemade truffles. A big production for a woman who rarely squeezes into an apron and mitts, it is oh so worth it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

From Laguna Art Museum with Love

Yes, I titled my most recent LAist article after the second James Bond film starring my favorite Bond, Sir Sean Connery. Yes, I'm quite Bond savvy. And for that I thank my brother.

Chatting with Bolton Colburn, Director of Laguna Art Museum, on the phone yesterday, I learned a great deal about the museum and particularly this year's art auction. Appropriately themed "LOVE" and taking place just two days before Valentine's Day, the auction is not only a highly anticipated event that brings the community together with artists, collectors and museum staff, it also helps support this non-profit learning institution. What I was unable to detail in my article due to length are the impressive educational programs that the museum runs and how it's generally funded.

One of the museum’s educational programs welcomes third and fourth graders in the Southern California region to visit the museum and study primary objects that deal with the regional and state history curriculum they are currently learning. Additionally, a gallery within the museum circulates artwork from creative classes in Orange and Los Angeles Counties. How awesome is that?

Producing between ten and twelve exhibitions each year, the museum benefits from fundraisers like the art auction to help fund these displays. Existing as a prominent non-profit establishment, Laguna Art Museum relies heavily on individual gifts, grants, corporate support, major fundraising events and admissions prices, according to Marni Farmer, Director of Communications.

Click here to read my LAist coverage. Click your seatbelt and head to the auction this Saturday!

Monday, February 7, 2011

Writing Warmup

Once a week my writing partner, Gaby, and I rendezvous at a nearby cafe and join forces. Admittedly we chat for the first 30 minutes, sometimes about writing-related topics, but then we snap to it. Our sessions are productive, and Gaby comes armed with a writing warmup. They help energize our creative muscles, exercising both hemispheres of our brains. It's like speed walking that first song of your running playlist before picking up the pace. It's very necessary.

Last Friday's warmup was a fun one. We were to think of 3 or 4 of our earliest memories and construct a scene using all of them. We had 15 minutes. And this is what I wrote.

To this day my mother still regrets moving from our house at Lake Wynonah. While we only lived there until I was about 5, I have a few wonderful memories of it and attribute part of my love for the outdoors to my life there. My brother, Ryan, and I explored the great Pennsylvania outdoors every day. Surrounded by nature and very few humans, we made friends with bugs, animals, sticks, leaves, trees, wild berries and, of course, each other. Siblings develop a strong love for one another during those early years that sometimes darkens into something resembling hatred once the teenage years begin. Usually, hopefully, this is just a layer clouding that love, which evaporates as both siblings mature. Thankfully this was our case. There weren’t many other houses around ours at the lake, which my mom loved. My dad probably loved the seclusion, too, but that’s a question I’ll never be able to ask him. Tromping through the fallen brown leaves, Ryan pointed to a tree, excited about a bug. Straining my eyes, I failed to see it. What this a trick? Probably. But as he pushed me closer, as older brothers love to do, love to test, I saw it. Stealthy camouflaged as tree bark perched the stick bug. Its body was similar to a praying mantis, and I think for that reason I wasn’t afraid. And Ryan’s presence certainly calmed my fears. If alone, I would’ve ran screaming back to the house, probably tripping over a rock. Oh the bruises, scrapes and gashes my knees and elbows endured due to my recklessness. Not to mention stubbed toes. My skin still displays some of those scars.

During another adventure we stumbled upon a field of wild strawberries, plucking and dropping them into a bucket. Perhaps it was just a small patch of them, and maybe they weren’t even strawberries, but I remember their juicy, red appearance, existing free of human destruction. That is, until a 4 year old and a 6 year old discovered them. My parents may have been there too, but I mostly remember Ryan. About seventeen years later I’ll befriend a man named Doug and find that we were neighbors at the lake. He, too, will remember the strawberries.

I wish so badly that I could better remember my father. But no matter how hard I try, how hard I close my eyes and try to recall life with him, I can only produce a few moments, those of which were mostly at our last house while he was alive, between the ages of 5 and 9 years old. I can still hear his voice, jolly and loud. Full of life and a proud York County twang. My brother sounds like him.

The one early memory I do have of my father is vivid, though the rest of my family claims it was a dream. But I know it wasn’t. It was real. I was 2, I think, possibly younger. I was still sleeping in a crib. My room was down one level from my parents’ bedroom. I awoke, peered at the open bathroom, and to my horror was a blue martian. Electric blue, glowing in the night, enjoying our bathtub. I stood up, staring at this creature. And then I started to scream. MOM! DAD! I needed them now. I needed them to see this. And I needed them to lift me from my cell and carry me away from harm. They flipped on the lights and came rushing down the short flight of stairs, their faces wrinkled with worry. I pointed at the martian, but as soon as the lights went on, it disappeared. My mom comforted me as my dad checked the tub. No martians here. I assured them I what I saw. They said it was just a dream. I assured them it was not. Who knows what else they told me to calm my fears, but I didn’t believe them. And to this day, about a quarter century later, I still don’t. I saw a blue martian in the bathtub at the house in Lake Wynonah.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Latest LAist Article

Check out my latest LAist coverage on an incredible mustachioed man and his recent creations. Click here.

Only 7 days left to experience it - hop on over to Curbside Gallery in Santa Ana!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Au Revoir, Yellow Pages!

GOOD has done it again, ladies and gents. Impressive with its infinite wisdom on how to make the world a better place, they've uncovered the simple process for opting out of receiving, in my opinion, an obsolete resource - Yellow Pages. I understand those lemony pages are helpful for those without internet and smart phones. I'm sure the Silent Generation and some Baby Boomers love this service. But for those of you who use these as door props, recycle or, environment forbid, trash them, opt out!


It's effortless. Click here and follow the quick instructions to register. You'll be directed to your email, and once signed in, you can check off all paper monsters you never want to see at your front door again! Sitting at the bottom of the opt out page is a button to remove them all, so use it! I did, and all of the below were removed, most of which I never knew existed.


- No copies of Los Angeles Spanish - Seccion Amarilla USA, LLC
- No copies of Japanese TD&G-So CA - Japan Publicity, Inc.,/Telephone Guide
- No copies of Marina DelRey-Venice - SuperMedia
- No copies of Los Angeles Westside - Yellow Book
- No copies of Los Angeles Co(B) - AT&T Advertising Solutions
- No copies of Santa Monica C - SuperMedia
- No copies of Los Ang Co-Iran - Ketab Corporation
- No copies of Santa Monica Comp(Y) - SuperMedia
- No copies of Culver City C - AT&T Advertising Solutions


Be sure to read GOOD's story.


Thanks again, GOOD. You are my hero.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

One Month In!

Remember a month ago when you made that list of things you would do this year to make you a better person? You replayed 2010 in your mind, flagging failures, highlighting triumphs. You vowed to be nicer, healthier, smarter, more caring, more giving, less judgmental, less and more of everything of which you have too much or too little. Remember that list? Your RESOLUTIONS?!?!?!?! *your world shakes and a hanging wall ornament smashes to the floor.

How's it going? Are you becoming a superior human? Is 2011 YOUR YEAR? Hopefully you won't have to, but here's my friendly reminder to dust off that list and dig back in. It's not too late. It's only February 1st. You still have eleven more months to divide and conquer. There's still time to lose those pounds, stop talking smack, volunteer, take your vitamins, stop beating your wife, stop cheating on your boyfriend, recycle, etc., etc. Haven't picked up a book yet? No sweat. You know there are several lurking on your shelves, under your bed and possibly on the top of your toilet. Just turn to page one and do not stop until you're thirty pages in. If the book is worth your time and brain, you'll be hooked.

Me, I'm doing pretty well. I followed my dream and am working tirelessly to write every day. I'm blogging. I've lost 14 lbs. I plucked The Yiddish Policemen's Union from between other unread paperbacks and am 1/3 of the way through. I've stopped screening my calls. I'm drinking at least 8 glasses of water each day. And besides the broken foot from day one, I'm feeling pretty good about 27 and in a few, 28.

I just need that golden retriever and that yard for him to run around in... Oh, and to be published in the New York or Los Angeles Times...

Here's to goodness. Don't give up.