La Vie En Robe

Into The Valley

Been wanting to write at length about my lovely road trip to Las Vegas last weekend to visit my pals Rich & Melanie, but the run-up to the SXSW festival has just been too all-consuming.
    So let's just hit the highlights, then: On the recommendation of my friend Neil, I eschewed the usual "15 Forever" route and drove through the Mojave National Preserve instead, which proved to be a both absolutely beautiful and profoundly head-clearing experience — on the way to Vegas and back, there were times when I wouldn't see another car for 30-45 minutes. Saw plenty of Joshua Trees, though, as well as a few decrepit old buildings and  the famous and mysterious "Shoe Tree" just to the south on National Trails Highway. Unfortunately, I totally overshot the turn-off for the Kelso Dune Field, home to the "singing" or "booming" sand dunes, which I really wanted to experience. Next time, then...
    My stay in Vegas was actually the most mellow I've ever had there, mostly because we stayed the fuck away from the Strip. We did, however, check out an art installation over at UNLV, where their friend David was (among other things) destroying old chairs using only the vibrations from an old organ; we also hit up an excellent Asian crawfish restaurant called Hot n' Juicy, and a relatively new (but pretty impressive) tiki bar called Frankie's. I wasn't that into their Navy Grog (though I did quite like the special mug I bought to go with it; they have eight custom mugs to choose from), but their Lapu-Lapu was truly outta this world...
    Oh yeah — Rich and I also spent much of a gorgeous Saturday afternoon hiking around the Valley of Fire, where the sand and rocks really are an eye-searing shade of red. Many of the formations are covered by ancient petroglyphs, some of which may be over a thousand years old. If you're ever in Vegas, I highly recommend prying yourself away from the slot machines for an afternoon and checking it out for yourself. At the very least, it will put your gambling losses in some degree of perspective...
    More to tell, but no time — I've gotta go bone up on the 40+ bands and artists I will be interviewing in Austin. I'll try to check in from Texas... in the meantime, happy St. Paddy's Day, everyone!

All is Calm, All is (Somewhat) Right

After what has unquestionably been the shittiest and most stressful year of my life, I was really looking forward to recharging my mental, physical and spiritual batteries with a mellow and relaxing Christmas break in Palm Springs. And, in keeping with the running theme of 2007, I didn't get one; instead, Santa brought us a massive gas leak at our house, which resulted in the Gas Co. shutting our gas off until we could get a plumber to fix the problem. Of course, this was no easy task to accomplish during Christmas week; the gas was turned off on Sunday, and if we're lucky we may get it back on again by tonight — four thousand dollars and one new main gas line later. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

Carole got really ill on Sunday, and — understandably not wanting to remain in a house bereft of heat or hot water — headed back to LA on Christmas Eve, while I stuck around to deal with the gas crisis. Cue for a lonely and depressing Christmas Day, right? Well, not exactly. For one thing, I had our cats Peelu, Shadow and Kyuko with me, who amused me no end with their antics — especially Kyuko, whose "new thing" is breaking into a bag of shiny Christmas bows, selecting the one she wants, and trotting around the house with it in her mouth while making loud bleating noises. Too sweet for words...

I was also blessed with an absolutely gorgeous Christmas Day in Palm Springs — sunny, in the low 70s, with a cloudless sky and the occasional gentle, tinsel-rippling breeze. I spent most of the morning and early afternoon hiking in the wonderful Indian Canyons, exploring areas that I hadn't previously trod, including the West Fork Falls (currently dry) and the Fern Canyon Trail. At the beginning of the latter, I found a beautiful spot on a large rock above a small running stream, where I plopped down and meditated on all the good things in my life for the better part of an hour. (You can see the view from "my" rock, above.)

Afterwards, I drove around downtown Palm Springs for an hour or so, grooving to the Martini Kings' Kings of Jing-A-Ling CD, looking at the Christmas decorations, and basically just savoring the lovely spectacle of a traffic-free Palm Canyon Drive. Then it was back to our pad for some leftover rigatoni and meatballs (from my Grandpa Fred's famous Christmas Eve recipe; I try to keep his memory — and his meatballs — alive by making them for friends every year) and a viewing of No Country For Old Men on DVD. (Yes, I know it's not out on DVD yet — but I gots connections, baby!)

I found the movie to be as intense as expected, but also kind of disappointing; Javier Bardem's performance, which has been getting most of the raves, seems cobbled together almost at random from a buffet of post-Hannibal Lecter psycho killer tics. Tommy Lee Jones was great, but you get the sense that he can pretty much do "wizened Texas sheriff" in his sleep.  Josh Brolin was actually pretty impressive in an early Nick Nolte way, the Coen Brothers' sense of humor definitely comes through in the scenes with the maddeningly obtuse local yokels, and the whole thing looks fantastic. Not sure it deserves the "best film of 2007" accolades that are being strewn at its feet, though; then again, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of competition out there this year.

All things considered, my solitary Christmas could've been a lot worse. And at least Carole and I had a great time with my sister, my mom and my stepdad-to-be when they visited us in PS, the day before everything went to shit. We had a tasty Mexican lunch at El Marisol, followed by a walk around the old Las Palmas neighborhood, decorating some of the succulents and tikis in our back yard with Christmas ornaments, some late-afternoon cocktails around the fire pit (in retrospect, I'm surprised we didn't all blow up!), an Italian dinner at the always excellent Al Dente Trattoria, and a drive by Kenny Irwin's annual "Robot House" Christmas display — which is either a fantastic explosion of outsider art or a goddamn blight on the entire neighborhood, depending on how close you actually live to it. Pics from that lovely day, as well as my Christmas in the canyons, can be viewed here as a FLICKR set...

Hope all of you are having a great holiday season, or at least managing to hang on to your sanity while it runs its course. See you in '08...

Ode to Chief Lapu-Lapu

Always in search of new opportunities for tiki worship, Carole and I went out last night to see the Martini Kings play at the Purple Orchid Exotic Tiki Lounge (no website, as far as I can tell, but it's at 221 Richmond St. in El Segundo). It was our first time at the Purple Orchid, and it was definitely worth the trip; the place is done up to the blowfish gills in a tasty array of carved tiki poles, masks, bamboo, lava rocks and Oceanic Arts-style lamps, but it also gives off a very friendly, "beach community watering hole" kinda vibe. The regulars and bartenders alike were mellow and warm, and nobody gave us any shit for not looking like we were locals.

Oh yeah — the Purple Orchid's cocktails are pretty damn fine, too. We sampled the Chief Lapu-Lapu (pictured above), the Blue Hawaiian, the Mai-Tai (pictured at left) and the Purple Orchid Martini, all of which warmed the soul in the way that only an expertly-mixed tropical beverage can do. They also sell those Mai Tai mugs, which were specially designed for them by the good folks at Tiki Farm, and I just couldn't leave without purchasing one. If you're a tiki-lovin' SoCal type who hasn't been to the Purple Orchid yet, you totally owe it to yourself (and the Great God Ku) to make the trek.

I also can't recommend The Martini Kings highly enough. This was the second time we've seen the Marsico Brothers' vibes-and-upright bass combo (who were joined last night by a nicely funky drummer and several voluptuous burlesque dancers), and we were once again blown away by just how groovy, smooth and totally pro these cats are. There's nothing ironic or smarmy about their old-school lounge-jazz sound; it's simply the real deal, and I wish I could pay them to play a permanent residency by my pool. Instead, Carole and I settled for picking up copies of their new Weekend In Palm Springs CD and their holiday season collection, The Kings of Jing-A-Ling. Click this link to hear song samples and purchase these and other MK titles; trust me, you'll be glad you did.

The funniest moment of the evening came towards the end of the night, when I was heading to the men's room. Some twenty-something dude accidentally backed into me, and apologized profusely; when he realized I wasn't at all pissed about it, he complimented me on my leather jacket and sideburns. When I passed him again on my way back to the bar, he asked me to hold up a second; he waved over one of his buddies, a reasonably stylish kid who had begun to sprout some conceptual facial hair of his own. "Hey, John," he shouted to his friend, while pointing at me. "This is what you're supposed to look like!"

Tiki Serendipity

Today, Carole and I welcomed a new member to our pagan family: a four-foot carved tiki pole, which is now residing happily in our Palm Springs back yard. We had no real intention of adding another, but sometimes fate — or tiki serendipity, if you prefer — intervenes.

When we left the house this afternoon, the plan was to meet some friends at the Viceroy Hotel for a mellow poolside cocktail; but the place turned out to be so packed with gay body builders that we couldn't even move through the bar (much less get a drink), so we split and went looking for another place to sit n' sip.

"Wait! There's a place that sells tikis!" exclaimed Carole, as I turned onto Tahquitz. "And there's a sign in the window that says 20% off!" Sure enough, wedged next to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf was a little storefront we'd never noticed before, crammed to the gills with tikis. I tend to be pretty picky about my tikis — I don't like 'em painted, and I have an aesthetic aversion to ones with teeth — but when I saw this "fish head" god sitting in the middle of the shop, I knew he had to come home with us. One hour later, he was sitting pretty by our pool; we toasted his arrival with rum-based cocktails, while my iPod spun several different renditions of "Quiet Village". Thanks be to the gods, life is good...