Another grey day in L.A., I enjoy the June gloom, but detest the July muggy mush we live through every year. (
The worst was that first summer working in failure theatre at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Cherokee in 1980. The best was the following year when I spent the summer in San Francisco working with inner city kids during the day and listening to jazz all night. And don't get me started on how I hate the humid east coast summers. I should probably just move to Alaska.) On top of the terrible weather today, I found myself in one of those undecided modes where I can't make a decision to save my life. So recognizing this early on, I forced myself to make a decision. I decided to drive to Malibu and let the ocean breezes cool me off.
Malibu turned out to be a blur, a grey blur. The smog had seen fit to hover atop the hillsides; diamonds of glare bounced off the ocean waves and tore into my sensitive eyeballs. Miserable heat engulfed everything. Even an old Pinto hatchback I saw
(I'm sure as the result of a heat induced time warp.) had its windows up and its air conditioning turned on. I drove on to Point
Dume, where
Charlton Heston saw the Stature of Liberty and where I used to enjoy having a cold one at the
Dume Room, an authentic beach dive bar, now extinct.
I stopped to take a look at one of my favorite places on the Malibu coast. It closed earlier this year, the result of new land ownership and higher rents I think I read somewhere. Now, months later, the place remains boarded up and no use to anyone. Doesn't look like any renovations are going on. They
could've kept this place open until they decided what to do with it. Let them pay the old rent. Some rent is better than no rent.
(I know there are probably other legal and financial considerations, so don't bother me about that. I speak in hyperbole often. Please get used to it. You do too, even if you don't recognize it.) The party
could've continued. The payrolls
could've kept getting met. Everyone
could've continued to get wet. And today, I
could've gotten a cold one.
So, I drove down to Yuma and looked at the bikinis while driving by and then headed back to Malibu where I got a cold one at the Malibu Inn, a slightly overpriced tourist trap restaurant (not as bad as Gladstones -
nothing's as bad or as overpriced as Gladstones) by day and a popular music venue at night. The food is excellent. You decide if it is worth the price. The air conditioning proved helpful to my mood as did the cold one. I was disappointed they had discontinued the old fashioned Pabst on draft, but I enjoyed a Stella instead. Nix on the food, I decided. The heat had ruined my appetite. So I drove home and sat in front of a fan and drank another cold one. Then, I took a nap. This turned out to be a good decision.
Another grey day in L.A., I enjoy the June gloom, but detest the July muggy mush we live through every year. (The worst was that first summer working in failure theatre at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Cherokee in 1980. The best was the following year when I spent the summer in San Francisco working with inner city kids during the day and listening to jazz all night. And don't get me started on how I hate the humid east coast summers. I should probably just move to Alaska.) On top of the terrible weather today, I found myself in one of those undecided modes where I can't make a decision to save my life. So recognizing this early on, I forced myself to make a decision. I decided to drive to Malibu and let the ocean breezes cool me off.
Malibu turned out to be a blur, a grey blur. The smog had seen fit to hover atop the hillsides; diamonds of glare bounced off the ocean waves and tore into my sensitive eyeballs. Miserable heat engulfed everything. Even an old Pinto hatchback I saw (I'm sure as the result of a heat induced time warp.) had its windows up and its air conditioning turned on. I drove on to Point Dume, where Charlton Heston saw the Stature of Liberty and where I used to enjoy having a cold one at the Dume Room, an authentic beach dive bar, now extinct.
I stopped to take a look at one of my favorite places on the Malibu coast. It closed earlier this year, the result of new land ownership and higher rents I think I read somewhere. Now, months later, the place remains boarded up and no use to anyone. Doesn't look like any renovations are going on. They could've kept this place open until they decided what to do with it. Let them pay the old rent. Some rent is better than no rent. (I know there are probably other legal and financial considerations, so don't bother me about that. I speak in hyperbole often. Please get used to it. You do too, even if you don't recognize it.) The party could've continued. The payrolls could've kept getting met. Everyone could've continued to get wet. And today, I could've gotten a cold one.
So, I drove down to Yuma and looked at the bikinis while driving by and then headed back to Malibu where I got a cold one at the Malibu Inn, a slightly overpriced tourist trap restaurant (not as bad as Gladstones - nothing's as bad or as overpriced as Gladstones) by day and a popular music venue at night. The food is excellent. You decide if it is worth the price. The air conditioning proved helpful to my mood as did the cold one. I was disappointed they had discontinued the old fashioned Pabst on draft, but I enjoyed a Stella instead. Nix on the food, I decided. The heat had ruined my appetite. So I drove home and sat in front of a fan and drank another cold one. Then, I took a nap. This turned out to be a good decision. 
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