weekend.

What I see when I open my front door.

Edgemont @ Hollywood.

A few Polaroids from the weekend.

Polaroid week.

Hey, everyone! It's Polaroid Week over at flickr. Actually it's called "roid week" but I refuse to use that term. You know what that means? A bunch of pseudo hipster douches post Polaroids of vintage motel signs + toys. Seriously, do you know how many "toy Polaroid" groups are on flickr? It's weird. But it does all look so cool, and I just love it. Here are my contributions--Polaroids of Polaroids, get it? So meta, I know.

So I am offically not a pseudo hipster douche anymore. Wednesday night I had tix for the Hold Steady, but with all the stress at work and the hint of a sore throat and Mercury in retrograde all week, I skipped it and was in bed by 10:30.

Spinsters rule, bitches.

sx-70.

So, last fall I "splurged" on a Polaroid SX-70, which takes the coolest pictures, according to most Polaroid aficionados. "Why?" you ask, considering that the film has been discontinued for good. I was well aware of this, but my awesome sister-in-law Joy had a huge stash of film in her garage, which she very generously allowed me to dip into, enough so that it was a worthwhile investment.

What I didn't realize was that the SX-70 required a few modifications to fit 600 film--the only kind of Polaroid film left and the only kind of Polaroid film in my sister-in-law's garage. This, of course, sent me into a panic, as I am not a mechanical person and when it comes to fidgeting and tinkering with things, I tend to give up right away.

But, six months later, I was able to adapt my camera, with the help of this. Although, I have to say, trying to cut a circle out of CD jewel case is a fool's paradise, and I recommend just buying a simple sheet of clear transparency paper (like that on the report covers you turned in junior high).

And now it was all doubly worth it, since The Impossible Project seems to have made the impossible possible. Way to go!

Anyway, enjoy my first shots of the beautiful wisteria that has suddenly started blooming over my deck.

happy.

And I really mean it. Pretty much everyone I know was happy to see 2009 go, and I was no exception. It wasn't a particularly terrible year for me, it just went by so fast, I couldn't keep up. By the time the holidays rolled around, I wasn't ready them. Usually I really get into this time of the year. I put up my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, then load it up with decorations all bought at the 99 Cent Store, sparkly snowflakes and twinkling lights, so it looks pretty fabulous. I keep it up through the entire 12 Days of Christmas, and on January 6th, I don't want to see it go.

This year, it went up two weeks late and came down the day after New Year's, and I couldn't have been happier to bid it all adieu and get back to the daily grind. Have I become of curmudgeon about it all? One of those for whom the holidays = soul-crushing depression? I don't think so. It was just an off year. A blur.

But I enjoyed New Year's Day, mostly because the weather was so beautiful and I spent the entire day in pajamas. And I am looking forward to this new decade. And blogging more. Ha ha.

boring vacation photos.

So last month I went to Europe for 12 days. Prague, Vienna and Cologne, Germany to be exact. It was wonderful and exhausting. I had never really traveled abroad much before last year, and it's already become something I can't imagine not doing. Before I left, a friend said that life in Europe is more about the quality of things rather than the quantity. It's true--the art, the architecture, the history, the pastries, the coffee. Everywhere I went, I ate really rich food--then walked it all off seeing as much as I could see. The coffees where all of the small, strong variety. They really packed a punch, but being a good ol' American girl, I finally need to hit up a Starbucks for a Venti-sized drip. I hate to admit it, but I have to be honest.

I'm already thinking about where I want to go next year. Italy is looking pretty good, but I really want to go back to Paris. And Spain. And Russia. And Ireland. And Sweden and Norway. Whee!

foodie city.

So while I intended this to be a blog about L.A., I would be remiss if I didn't write about my hometown. Yeah, every year I go home to the Minnesota State Fair, and everyone thinks it's so cute and quaint, but there is so much more to our sister cities than just farm animals and food on a stick.

A lot of people are aware of how groovy Minneapolis/St. Paul is--amazing music, theater, art all within a gorgeous, livable city dotted with beautiful lakes, kick-ass bars and awesome non-chain coffee houses, all with worn vintage couches. These kind of places still thrive here. The people are liberal, well-read and civilized.

If it just wasn't for those damn winters.

But one aspect of the city that remains to be noted (well, I'm sure a few people have noted it) is the preponderance of excellent restaurants. There's amazing food to be had everywhere. Here is a sampling from my last trip: the aforementioned Fair, where in addition to deep-fried
Twinkies and Snickers bars, this year your could find caprese on a stick, honey lemonade, walleye cakes, smoked salmon with lingonberry jelly and the coldest, most satisfying milk ever in the world.

I also managed to make it to one of my favorite Northeast haunts, the Modern Café, and had a wonderful meal with some of my favorite Minneapolis peeps Sara, Shannon & Joseph, and their very cool friend Dean. Simple but delicious fare--a bibb lettuce and avocado salad with creme fraiche and a clam and chorizo bourride, which was like a scaled-down bouillabaisse.

One of the Cities' undiscovered gems is my mother, a woman who can turn a tomato, a sprig of basil, a dash of olive oil and a twist of pepper into a memorable event. On Sunday night, we feasted on one of her specialties, pasta tossed with potatoes, green beans and homemade pesto, plus an eggplant baba ganoush.

On my last day there, I hit all my favorites. A quick stop at Anodyne, one of my favorite words and my favorite coffee shop. Strolled through the Museum of Russian Art, which was really, really cool, and then headed to the Midtown Global Market, where I've had some of the best tacos ever. Taquería Los Ocampo serves really authentic fare like Tinga de Pollo, and Sinchronizada, which is difficult to find even here in L.A., although they do serve it at my beloved Alegria.

My visit ended, as always, with the pilgrimage to Punch, which serves the best pizza in the world outside of Italy, or so said Meryl Streep when she was in town filming A Prairie Home Companion. Nuff said. We don't argue with La Streep. Although I have to say, I'm not that crazy about the NE location, where you order at the counter and they throw the pizzas in the over for 90 sec. I still prefer the old Highland Park place, even though I know it can be a mad house.

OK, I know I'm not much of a food writer, but I am hungry, so I'm doing something right.

fair.

As most of you know, every Labor Day I make the pilgrimage back to the great state of Minnesota for the wildly popular State Fair. I think I've done it every single year since I moved out to California. For awhile it was just me and my mom, then when my brother moved back, he started coming along. Last year my cousin came, and this year it was my brother's wife. It's really become about much more than just rides, animal barns and food on sticks. Now it's about my family. And food on sticks. God knows I hate to travel at real holiday times (plus the winter thing in MN can be a real bitch), so this is like our annual holiday. People always ask me, "you didn't just come for the Fair, did you?" and the answer is "no." How great is it when you just have a blast with your family? I love this tradition we have and I plan to keep coming back for it.

15 Books.

This is one of those Facebook things, but I thought I would turn it into an entry as I like to read and I really need to kick start my blog again. The idea is to choose 15 books that had an impact on you--without thinking too much about it. So most of these I've read in the last decade, but that's ok. I'm listening to Nirvana as I write this, in case you were wondering.

1. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. This is probably my #1 favorite book ever. To be honest with you, I think a lot of Faulkner is crap, probably because he was drunk when he was writing, but S&F is just unbelievable. It bugged me, because they always warn you how difficult it is to read, and it's not at all. And that's what's so incredible about it. It crosses time, voice and states of consciousness in relating the self destruction of a Southern family. I saw a play of the Benji section last year performed at REDCAT by Elevator Repair Service, a Brooklyn theater company. It was awe-inspiring, and that's not a term I throw around every day. I want to write more about it, but I need to move on.
2. Dangerous Angels: the Weetzie Bat Books by Francesca Lia Block. Weetzie Bat is what made me want to move here. It spun L.A. as a punk rock fairy tale filled with palm trees and burritos and all kinds of plastic crap. Now I live in L.A. and guess what? It is a punk rock fairy tale filled with palm trees, burritos and all kinds of plastic crap. Bonus: my friend Tori was friends with with Francesa in the 80's and was one of the inspirations for Weetzie. We are all Capricorns, too. Exciting!
3. I'm With the Band: Confessions of a Groupie by Pamela Des Barres. This is one from way back, high school and my first few years of college. I read it over and over again. I dreamed of being a groupie, but I was way too shy and awkward to pull it off, even when drunk. But ironically enough, this was the book that made me want to write. Miss Pamela helped me see that writing didn't have to be so lofty and serious, limited to lofty and serious people. She was a lighthearted gal from SoCal who just wanted to be loved, and her writing was joyous, free and a blast to read.
4. The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I keep this with me all the time. No matter how blocked or afraid I am to sit down and work, a few pages of this book gets me right through it.
5. The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century by Alex Ross. Reading this coincided with playing the violin again. For those of you who think classical music is just waltzes and Mozart, this book will make you think again.
6. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. I love how he writes in stream of conscious, mixing the profound, the mundane and the ridiculous.
7. Eleven Days by Donald Harstad. This is a mystery, and it's like Rosemary's Baby meets Fargo, about the murders of a satanic cult in a small town in Iowa. It's based on a true story and written by former small town Iowa police chief Harstad. Best of all, he writes like a small town cop, rather than a slick mystery novelist. I'm dying to make this into a movie.
8. Shopgirl by Steve Martin. I can't remember if I read this first or watched the movie, but I know that after both, I listened to the audiobook (read by the author) and it was the best of the three. I am always fascinated by how men write about women in general, but Steve Martin's empathetic portrait of Mirabelle broke my heart a little. I was not expecting to like this book at all. I'm not a huge Claire Danes fan--I thought it was all downhill after MSCL--but her wardrobe in the movie completely rocked my world.
9. Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote. There's not much to say here, except that every sentence he wrote was perfect--until he really started hitting the sauce. C'mon guys--put the bottle down!
10. Portrait of a Lady by Henry James. Again, a complex, compassionate portrait (no pun intended) of a woman by a man.
11. Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn. Another dark mystery set in a small Midwestern town, but I loved it because it explores women's darker impulses and the harm they do each other, especially within the mother-daughter dynamic. Like Eleven Days, it suffers from a cheesy bad ending, but I forgive them both.
12. House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. This caused quite a splash when it came out, and it was exciting, because Mark and I both worked at the same restaurant. This is one of those post-post-post modern books that are thrilling, horrifying, maddening, confusing, breathtaking, eye-rolling--it's the kitchen sink in the form of literature. But at its heart is the mother of all haunted houses, and it literally gave me the chills.
13. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Examines what happens when we deny people their humanity and does it in the most subtle, heartbreaking way.
14. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. My favorite author merits two books on the list. Here he mastered his art, penning a metaphysical mystery interwoven with Japanese history and the collective unconscious. Also--talking cats.
15. Self-Reliance. Waldo is my hero, his words my gospel.

I think this is my longest blog entry ever. But it makes up for the last month of nada. I hope you enjoyed it Nicole, and seriously, I'm With the Band is awesome.

clowns.

Oh, North Hollywood. You never cease to surprise and delight me. And clowns? Always scary, even when trying to get you to drink.

10.

So 10 years ago this week, I rolled into L.A. I remember, after driving here from Minneapolis, my Honda Civic packed with everything I owned, finally arriving, on the 101, and being completely freaked--in the very best way. I got here around rush hour, somehow got turned around on the freeway and ended up in Encino, where I stopped for a burger. I think it was at Islands. Got back on the 101 and somehow made it to the Farmer's Daughter Motel, where I wanted live forever (the above photos are actually of the Hollywood Premiere Motel).

Anyhow, I'm still here. And completely freaked, in the very best way. I just let the Civic go and replaced it with a Prius. It was bittersweet, but it was time. I never thought I would last this long here--deep down inside, I thought this city would eat me alive and spit me right back out to Minnesota. I was in physical pain with homesickness for so long, but after 4-5 years, it disappeared. Poof. My friend Devon asked me if I thought I would be here in another 10 years, and I answered with a resounding "yes."

I've done a bit of reflecting this week, and how could I not? Most of the time, I feel like I've only been here for 5 years; this decade has just zipped by. But when I think about how many places I've lived, my different jobs, the relationships I've had--then it's been jam packed. I came here heartbroken and broken inside. I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing or what was going to happen. Somehow, I've built a life that I never expected to have. And one that I love. And only gets better and better. Hooray for L.A.

windy.

This weekend was crazy! Not really, but it felt like fall on the East Coast. There was a slight drizzle, whipping wind and a bite in the air. I've never had anyone come and visit me here in L.A. and say "it's too cold here." But my dad was in town and said just that. I still took pictures of all the flowers in bloom--coming up next--and this beautiful tree.

my favorite things.

Just a lazy morning at the corner of Tacos & Alcohol. Ha, ha. Kidding. It's really the corner of Moorpark and Tujunga. I'm not sure if this is technically Studio City or Valley Village, but who really cares. It's one of the loveliest spots on "this side of the hill."

polaroids.

I've taken a lot of them, only not with this camera, a Polaroid 450, given to me by my friend Christine. She sure is a beauty--it's too bad they don't make film for her anymore.

one more.

This is the Department of Water & Power in Los Feliz. I took this a long time ago and forgot about it. Like I said, I'm kind of fascinated (not obsessed) with these places.

lunch.

I walked up to Hollywood Boulevard for lunch today, mostly to take some photos of mannequins and wigs, but I snapped a few Polaroids, too. I went into a small retrospective exhibit for Vivid Video and was thrilled to see they had put out a movie called "Debbie Does Dallas with Lexa," although I couldn't find it anywhere on the internet. Then I went to Village Pizza, because there is one now on Yucca between Cahuenga and Ivar. In case you didn't know.

water & power.

I love the Water & Power buildings. This is the one on Vine between Fountain and Melrose.

l.a. tigers

The tigers have spoken. I took these at the corner of Venice and La Brea. I'm very excited these days, as the new Neko Case comes out on March 3 and the new Alexander McQueen line debuts at Target on March 5. Roar!

proud birds.

I took these at that strange little retro restaurant out on Aviation near LAX. I've always wondered about that place.

gone.

Dan-dee no more. I took these photos of the excellent Dan-Dee Shoe Repair sign last spring. Part of my intention in starting this blog was to document the changes that are happening in Hollywood with all the reconstruction. One of my favorite blogs, Franklin Avenue, reported last week that the sign has disappeared, and indeed, a brand new building seemed to unveil itself overnight. Mike says the Museum of Neon Art was trying to obtain the sign before the building went down, but apparently, they were not successful. RIP Dan-Dee Shoes.

farmer's market.

I like to go here on Sundays, at Fairfax and Third, early before the stores open at that Grove monstrosity, when I can get a parking space. It always reminds me of when I first moved to L.A. almost 10 years ago. I stayed at the Farmer's Daughter across the street and LOVED IT! It's fancy and upscale and renovated now. Back in '99 it was just cozy, mellow and sweet. But I couldn't really afford to live there, so I got a shitty apartment in Silver Lake. My anniversary will be in April, and I'm thinking of getting a room for the night there to commemorate. I'll have a crepe and a taco for a celebratory breakfast. Just brainstorming, at this point.