A month of Sundays

On Oscar Sunday, right about the time Jack was opening the last envelope of the evening, I was wrapping up my first weekend in Los Angeles ever. While Warren Leonard and the other Hollywood glitterati were inside the Kodak Theatre, I was several blocks away filling out an application for more modest neighborhood digs. Not apparently knowing that (good) apartments in the city are in shorter supply than other places, I had only budgeted a long weekend for the search. But, luckily, the application has been approved and it only remains to finish packing things up here in Baltimore and find a way to send them to the new place and meet them out there next month. I guess I'm really doing this.

Because time was fairly short, I didn't have much of an opportunity to see the usual sights. But some initial impressions of the City of Angels:

The weather really is fantastic, at least for an end of February. Sunny and in the 60's the whole weekend, it was like the best brilliant fall day you could ever hope for here on the east coast. But at the end of February.

Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols has a lunchtime radio show. Aside from the fact that it's a former Sex Pistol with two hours of commercial airtime a day, anything he plays will be infinitely better than hearing Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Jane's Addiction's "Jane Says" ad nauseum on other purported alternative stations. But from the one show I heard, he plays good stuff.

It's easy to understand why everyone drives their cars everywhere: every place has a parking lot in which they can park. I think I saw one subway stop while I was driving (obviously) around. I guess I willl succumb to the car culture myself but I won't be happy doing it.

I'm more worried about the fact that there is an In-n-Out Burger right around the corner from me. I know that I will succumb to this temptation, though I may be slightly more happy about it than the driving.

All in all a fun, frantic three-day introduction to LaLa Land. I think I will be able to be more excited about the writing once I've actually completed the move out.

This past Sunday, popped down to the 9:30 Club in D.C. for the kickoff of Beth Orton's U.S. tour. Taking turns between songs with the band from her new album, Comfort of Strangers, and older tunes done solo acoustic style, Beth brought the music, bad jokes, and distinctly English patter. If you are enjoying "Comfort of Strangers," or have been with her since the previous albums, try and catch her if she's in the area. Quite the good show.

And one more Sunday show to come, when The Go! Team rolls into D.C. for a gig. Maybe a report and more unintentionally-impressionist concert photos to follow.