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SNL is absolute shit; Sacred Grounds donations; More Photographs

2004-07-18 - 12:04 a.m.

Dear. Holy. God.

Dear Holy God.

Have any of you seen Saturday Night Live this season? Do they actually have high enough ratings to stay on the air? Who the fuck are these 'writers' and those improve comedy clones they picked up at the Good Will?

I mean I hated SNL back when Will Ferrel and that closet homosexual brunette Chris dude was on, but this--this goes straight into "I pity the fuck out of you, Lorne Michaels--if you had a change cup, I'd give" mode.

If you have seen it, know that you are not alone. If you haven't seen it, it's worth a laugh: a laugh. If you've seen it and you like this season, I'm not quite sure I know you.

Moving on to better things.

* * *

Just yesterday, my mom and I went to a fundraiser at an indie coffee shop to help save Putiidhem, an ancient American Indian site threatened with development. The point should be moot, considering that it's a registered burial grounds site, but somehow the mayor of San Juan Capistrano and the planning commission want to try anyway.

Makes my dirty Indian ass seethe. Then again, maybe they wouldn't mind if we built a Starbuck's on top of their grandparents.

Anyway, so Ma and I headed over to the Sacred Grounds coffee house in San Pedro, about 18 minutes from us. It looked like the type of indie (no pun) business you'd see 25 years ago, a twilight hippie joint with an owner who'd been one of the beatniks. Rough-shod tables and dangerously comfortable, garrish couches leaned against the walls, listening intently and palming humans, all of them focused on this long-haired Hanson-like boy and his native flute playing. It looked like his dad was doing the guitar work, and his mom was working the floor for contacts.

The coffee menu was a giant slat chalkboard, stencilized with arcane webbing. This was new: neither of us had any idea what to order. We both finally decided on a two espresso/chocolate/vanilla whipped thing.

Now I'd noticed coming inside that Sacred Grounds was also an 'art gallery.' It was all around you: surreal landscape paintings, sketches, a Trump L'Oeil style piece on The Beatles. The art has a old funky quality to it and they didn't have a single photograph up there--two facts I plan on using so I can whore my work over there.

And so Ma and I sat around for about 4 long acoustic songs, with her enjoying the nostalgia and me liking the casual atmosphere. We commented a few times that it would have been cool to find Sacred Grounds sooner; we'd both been looking for indie coffee houses. Even if I leave in a little under a month for Wisconsin, though, I could go their and take advantage of their wireless internet acccess.

I mean, those couches are really dangerously comfortable.

Photography

Coming back from that event, I even saw a hill that had a clear view of the LA Harbor, which gave me some night-shot ideas. Since I'd started getting into that old frame of mind, then, I also took some 'macro' (i.e. close-up) shots of flowers around our place:

Comment: I like the simplicity of this one. It's just pretty, y'know?

Comment: Funny enough, my favorite part of the shot is in the middle. Looks like a reflection in a lake.

Comment: I like this one as much as the other for obviously different reasons. It'll be a pain deciding which to post.

If any of those particularly captures your fancy, or if you think any of those suck, send me a note and let me know. Really: I like random notes from anyone.

* * *

Being that I have a cavity-filling appointment later on at noon, I'm going to drive out to Gran's now and beat Los Angeles traffic.

Oh, and my great grandmother died late last week at the age of 99. The funeral was finally scheduled for this coming friday. Originally, all of the relatives wanted me to come and pat my head, since I'm last in the family line. And even if some of the main figurehead relatives can't come for odd reasons, I'm still going.

I'm kinda annoyed I have to miss Sasha's party in Las Vegas, but hey, people die, you deal.

I'm off to The Valley.

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