Where the Streets Have No Name

ranch.jpgThe air has been heavy with the echo of the fires and the cars in our driveway were covered with ash, so we packed up the dogs and headed for Rimrock Ranch in the high desert north of Poineertown. We got a late start and wound up driving down dead end dirt roads in the dark, praying our truck wouldn’t sink into the sand. We finally found the place and it’s a charming compound with a few cabins and vintage Airstreams scattered around. The owner is a guy named Jim who lives in a groovy modern house on the property and plays a mean upright bass.
In the morning had coffee at the Water Canyon coffee house in Yucca Valley. Then we hit the swapmeet, where it’s hard to tell what is for sale and what’s an art installation. The picture above is Bob, the seventy-three-year-old owner of the place, who makes giant spider webs inhabited by carved wooden spiders. In the middle of the webs were the biggest purple and pink cut crystals I’ve ever seen. They looked like they belonged on the burlesque costume of the fifty-foot woman.

In the afternoon we went to Joshua Tree National Park. I’ve heard that every Joshua Tree has a soul. And every rock in that place has a story to tell.

Hustling on Sunset

485946018_61a2c4fc6a1.jpgI read at the In the Flesh reading series, with Antonia Crane, Tina Dupuy, Michael Lyn and Devan Sagliani. The event, featuring “provocative” material, is hosted monthly by Stan Kent at the Hustler Hollywood store. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I think the environment made for a fun vibe. It’s hard to be to self-serious when you’re reading next to sequined Hustler baseball caps and books like Sex for Dummies. The cafe was cute and the crowd was rowdy and I think Scott snuck away and bought a book of some kind, but I can’t be sure. Another benefit of the Hustler store- you can take shopping breaks.

I had such a good time that I went absolutely crazy and dragged the lovely and talented Michele Matheson to Allison Burns’ birthday party at Bardot. Such nice lighting fixtures in that joint. Does it mean my clubbing days are over when I’m looking at the lighting fixtures on the wall rather than the models draped over the furniture?

LA Woman

scottarty.jpgMy talented photographer husband took this while I was getting ready for the WATCH OUT premiere at El Cid last night. There were other good pictures, too, but when I looked at them all I could see were the crooked hand towels. The night was fun and many peeps showed. It’s always an effective ice breaker when new friends see a close-up of your boobs magnified fifty times on a big screen.

I feel so very LA when I say I went to a movie premiere.