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Michele Miles Gardiner

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    This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from aprilbaby. Make your own badge here.
  • Michele G.'s Reviews - Canoga Park - Yelp
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    Great site on the San Fernando Valley, then and now.
  • L.A. Time Machines
    Take a visual trip back in time
  • PreserveLA
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  • Lotta Living: San Fernando Valley
  • Googie Architecture Online
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  • Wes Clark's "Avocado Memories"

Recent Posts

  • The Wende Museum: Preserving Cold War Artifacts, Art and History
  • The Self-Reliant vs. The Happily Imprisoned
  • Nah, Reall-ay. We totally talk like this in LA
  • I've Survived Retail Hell!
  • I'm Performing my Christmas Story: "Suicidal Santa"
  • Time to Untangle the Christmas Lights & Curse, Again!!!
  • Happy Holidays! Shopping Local, Helping Small Businesses Thrive.
  • Rantings of a Grocery Store Zombie
  • Cliché L.A.!
  • Trippy Timetravel

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Rantings of a Grocery Store Zombie

 
Groceryshopperretro Hemingway had the Left Bank of Paris, Pamplona, Spain, Key West and Havana. I have the grocery store!

I just realized I've published a frightening amount of pieces with the grocery store as my background. Just last night, I sent off an op-ed about the shrinking size of grocery store products and rising prices.  It includes this line: "Soon I'll be a fifty-foot giantess crushing cities with my SUV-sized feet." I like to throw a little retro sci-fi movie action in many of my rantings. It's just a thing I seem to do a lot - zombies, giantesses and brain-eating blobs... Must've been from watching the late night horror shows on "Creature Features," as a kid.

Here are my other grocery store pieces:

Valley State of Mind

Supermarket 101

Technology Bubble

I have enough grocery store material, I think I may be working toward a collection. I can call it "Rantings of a Grocery Store Zombie," or "Why I Need to Get a Life."  Groceryblow

 

September 13, 2011 in Random Thoughts & Realizations, Writing | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: grocery shopping, humor, op-ed, opinion, supermarket, writing

Cliché L.A.!

Dwntwnlapershingsq

Here's my slide show of just a bit of what I love about LA. All the great stuff is tangled, woven, and often hidden amongst and beneath LA's clichés.

Yeah, LA is more than our clichés, but they do exist -

 

Cliché L.A.!

Golden days

Summer haze

Pacific Coast Highway

Awesome waves

Screenplays

Valets

The Palisades

Silver Lake

Fake…

Boobs

Surfer dudes

Film debuts

Malibu

Attitudes

California Dreams

Palm trees

Plastic surgery

Itsy bitsy bikinis

Purple mountains majesty

Paparazzi

Graffiti

TMZ

Venice Beach

Slangy speech

Movie…

Stars

Luxury cars

Sushi bars

Award Shows

Chateau Marmont

Spago

Limos

Studios

Rodeo…

Drive

The 405

Blue skies

Pulled back eyes

Toned thighs

Chili fries

Hollywood sign

Social climb

I, me, mine

Gang Crime

Drive thrus

Swimming pools

Sparkling jewels

Glamour

Clamor

Rush hour

Want more

Power…

Trip

Sunset Strip

Film script

Set Grips

Hollywood gossip

Hoes and pimps

Star-struck

Nip and tuck

Make a buck

Life don’t suck

Taco trucks

Traffic

Psychic

Pornographic

Manic

Panic

Organic…

 Sprouts

In-n-Out

Celebs bailed out

Droughts

Injected pouts

Golden State

Earthquakes

Lose weight

Get sedate

How much you make?

Old age can wait

Cuz…

Life is great…

in L.A.!

Written by Michele Miles Gardiner

 

September 01, 2011 in California, Los Angeles, Writing | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: LA, los angeles, photos, poem, poetry

My Change of Mind from Liberalism

My my... how life experience can change a person's political views, huh? Here's a piece I wrote about the Republican party before I left liberalism behind:

 

****************************************************************

Mr. Republican

A suit and tied man,

briefcase in hand,

walks his tight ass walk.

Breaks stride to lift his polished leather shoes

over the face of a soiled, leather-faced man lying on the sidewalk.

As the suited man steps over the other, he does not look down.

He does step OVER and not on him.

 

A decent man,

                        Mr. Republican

God fearing, too.

Wants prayer in school.

Take away the poor, empty stomached children’s free lunch program.

They can PRAY for food.

 

A man who wants equal rights,

                        Mr. Republican

Who no longer wants affirmative action -

The white man has suffered long enough.

He believes everyone deserves an equal opportunity.

 

A man who knows how to cut the budget,

                        Mr. Republican

Who laughs when Nova, Masterpiece Theater and Big Bird plead for funds, while tits and ass, Jerry Springer and other freaks on talk shows litter the television airwaves to numb and stunt the brain activity of Americans into a dozy, compliant, shoulder shrugging, I could care less mentality.

                         Mr. Republican

Loather of liberals, lover of Limbaugh, squelcher of creativity and culture, champion of the almighty dollar, who – at night after he screws his salon coiffed, college-degreed, four-door sedan driving wife – tucks his GOP member neatly back into his starched, white boxer shorts and

sleeps.

And so does the man on the sidewalk.

****************************************************************

 

I didn't think. I just emoted what I'd learned growing up in '70s San Francisco. Back then, I don't think I ever knew any conservatives. I'd certainly never heard their points of view. I'd grown up with young, liberal, bohemian parents - traveling the world in a trailer, living on nude beaches, hitchhiking, living a semi-communal life in SF State University student housing. I'd gone to public schools, listened to the media and pop culture... went to a protest or two. I even stood adoring Jane Fonda as she yelled about the Vietnam War, one day, in Golden Gate Park.

Then I got life experience of my own. Moved out by myself, got married, raised a child, put her in public school, started (and still run) a business. And along the way I've had mind-altering, life-learning, mind-shattering, gut-wrenching experiences, experiences that were completely counter to what I'd believed.

Those experiences opened my eyes enough to look further. I questioned. I researched. I confirmed. No longer could I simply walk blindly into the voting both punching D, D, D, D for Democrat right down the line. I no longer believed that my party was the good guy, the compassionate one, the party for the people. The decades of their lack of results was an inkling, I'd been duped.

When I have more time I'll write about experiences that open my eyes and mind.

August 27, 2009 in 1970s, Politics, Writing | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: california, conservative, ex-liberal, politics, reformed liberal, republican

Ebook and Website for "Craving Normal" Coming Soon!

CRAVE COVER copy

May 07, 2009 in Random Thoughts & Realizations, Writing | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: 1960s, 1970s, book, childhood, essays, nonfiction, short stories

Bumper Cars Driven By Drunks

MybrainBecause I love to write as much as I love to eat and drink, I'm going to start adding recipes themed to my posts. So with that in mind, here's a drink I just made up I call:

A Bumper Car

8 oz. Coca Cola

2 oz. Rum (or more)

8 oz. Ice

1 Cherry popsicle (after removing sticks)

Blend well. Then drink while eating carnival food (corn dogs, chili fries or kettle corn, for instance), and then you'll wake up feeling like you've been hit by a bumper car.
**********************************************************

Sometimes my brain works about as smoothly as bumper cars driven by drunks. It's not pretty.  Here, I'll give you a glimpse of my writing process today. Believe me, you’ll feel much better about yourself once you have some idea of what’s occurring in my head.

I sit myself down to write and my mind conjures a million ideas. Again, imagine those whisky-breathed drunkards slamming bumper cars into each other. Or imagine every concert-goer at, say, Woodstock simultaneously raising hands and shouting, “Write about the time you spilled drinks on Ted Danson” or “Hey, no! Write about taking the wrong plane!” or “Forget those! Write about living in Greece with your pet octopus and tortoise!” or “No, you’ve gotta write about the car-thief-roommate you had put in jail!” “What about all the jobs you screwed up? You were a drink-spilling waitress, an overly enthusiastic aerobics instructor, and an over-the-top-gum-chewing-boa-flinging hooker on ‘Cagney and Lacey’.” Then, just as I’m trying to listen to these frenetic thoughts, my husband walks in and says to me, after seeing me stare at the computer screen, “Why don’t you write about that credit card guy from this morning?”

Here’s what happened this morning: First, you should know, I hate credit cards. I'm not one of those numb-skulls that waves around the card squealing "Free money!! Charge! it" But we needed a few things for our business... Anyway, I think of the little beasty-bills as landmines, landmines that will blow up if I pay one hour later than they are due, landmines that can change instantly from 0% to double digit interest rates if late.  Well, last week, I made sure (as I always do) to pay one of the bills early to avoid any sort of explosions.  Yesterday (Tuesday) I realized I paid the wrong one and left the one that was due before it sitting in my bill folder. That meant the one I thought I paid early didn't get paid, but it was due this past Monday!!!! so I hyperventilated. Then I called the credit card company, paid the late-bill by phone and was told I could call Wednesday (today) to reinstate my 0% interest rate, since I had proof I simply paid the wrong bill.

Cut to the phone call this morning:

Me: Hi, yes, a nice man I spoke to yesterday told me that I could reinstate my interest rate because I have proof I simply paid the wrong bill, when I met to pay the one that was due.

Creepy Credit Card Man: Well, not exactly.

And then in a weird twist -something similar to going to the doctor expecting to have a splinter removed and then ending up having a gynecological exam - the Creepy Credit Card Man began asking invasive questions about my finances: my income, my home equity, all about our business, whether I’ve made funeral plans… (Well, not quite, but almost)...  Whatever numbers I gave him were just some that I threw out to get to the reason I called.  Since he had the power to raise my rate, I thought I would be abnormally polite.  Normally, I would’ve told him this information was none of his business.  But I grasped that he was a little man in an uncomfortable suit with a tie strangling his neck. He needed to feel important. So I took pity and tossed him some phony numbers.

The Creepy Credit Card Man (after hearing my supposed financials) took a deep breath and blew into the phone as if he were really disappointed with me.  Yes!  He huffed.  He huffed as I used to when my daughter would come into the house covered in mud after I just mopped.

Me: (laughing) Uh… are you huffing on my account? You really don’t have to worry…

The CCC Man ignored me and (after feeling quite satisfied of his own self-importance) reinstated my interest rate.  

Sorry, folks, that’s about as exciting as it got for me today. Sad, I know.

I really do have better stories - full-written stories that need editing; partially written stories that need finishing, and then there’s the traffic jam of stories clogging the 101 and 405 junctions in my skull. It’s just a matter of kicking off the drunks, pointing the cars forward and going full speed ahead.

July 16, 2008 in Random Thoughts & Realizations, Writing | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: bumper cars driven by drunks, california writer, California writer, finding focus, flying thoughts, focus on writing, freelance writer needs to focus, frenetic brain, how my brain works, Inside this writer's head, thoughts on writing

Pasadena Magazine Launch Party, Last Saturday Night

Pasadenacoversept_2 Pasadena Magazine is beautiful!!  It's not only exquisitely designed, but it's interesting, informative and well written.  I'm so impressed with the variety of articles.  Writer Maryann Hudson has a great story, "The Journey Continues," on Pasadena before and after the revitalization, which I really enjoyed.  And Iva-Marie Palmer - who posted a comment below - provided vitally important info in her piece, "A Night Out for $20."  Now that will come in handy! 

I truly appreciate the opportunity to contribute to the premiere issue.  And the launch party at the Vista del Arroyo Bungalows was impressive - jazz andPasmagentrance2 rock bands in different bungalows and food catered by Katana.  And, best of all, I got to see a lot of the wonderful people I have been lucky to meet earlier when writing my articles. 

The subjects of my first article were four inspiring women who began Truly Mom.  Each of the women are genuinely sweet people who impressed me with their incredible gratitude and appreciation for life and their determination.Trulymomphoto_2

My other article is on the down-to-earth, compassionate and extremely busy Dr. D*R*E*W (I spelled it out that way because earlier I had a weird incident with someone blog-searching his name and  misusing a photo I took of him.)  I truly appreciate him letting me tag along to his lecture, his home and KROQ.Drdrewarticle_2

The photographer, Sarah Brewer, took some really great shots for my two articles.  And I believe she took the great cover photo of the ArroyoPasmagbridge Seco Bridge. 

Yep, it was an exciting evening.  I even got to meet Ernest in accounting, who overheard me speaking to someone.  He tapped me on the shoulder and said, "What's your name?"

I told him and he said, "Oh, I just sent you a check."

Pasmagdancer2_4 I gave him a big hug.  "I like you, Ernest!"Pasmagjazzblkwht2_2

August 28, 2007 in Photos, Writing | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: California contributor to magazine, California magazine writer, california writer, interview subjects, writing about life in Southern California

My Mission Statement and How George Costanza Influenced Me

Mebirthday72Why am I auditioning for a TV game show?  Why am I trying out for the roller derby?

Well, see this kid?  That's me on my 8th birthday in April of 1972.  I was blowing out candles and making a wish.  And whatever that wish was - whether it was for the  invention of a television-telephone or my future Hollywood stardom - I know I was not wishing for mediocrity.

Unfortunately, I feel like that's just what I spent my last month doing: Using my time and energy toward a mediocre endeavor... and without even realizing it.

Anyway, I remembered the time a friend lamented about her ability to choose good, undrunk men, and how I advised to her to try the "George Costanza" method of choice-making.  Did you ever see the Seinfeld episode where George has amazing luck doing the opposite of what he would normally do?  Well, that's the George Costanza method of which I speak.  And that's exactly what worked for my friend.  She did the opposite of what she normally did and found a nice, undrunk type of guy.  Though, in reality, she had too many years of "issues" to practice the Costanza method for long - so she eventually let the guy go.  But that's not my point.  Here's my point.

My Mission Statement:

For now on, I will put myself into situations I would not normally put myself into and then write about them.  All that can happen is 1) I will have a unique and surprising learning experience.  Or 2) I'll have great material to write about.  And then I'll submit these stories to an appropriate publication or maybe I'll just post them on my blog. 

My first self-given assignment starts on Wednesday.  I'm auditioning for a network game show.  I figure that might make for an interesting story, and - who knows? - maybe I'll even win some money so I can remodel my kitchen.  And on a scale of one to ten - ten being the scariest - auditioning for a game show registers only about a 4 in the discomfort factor.  So maybe one day I'll learn to fly an airplane (like my grandpa) or - you never know - jump out of one. 

Next I'm trying out for the roller derby.  Hey, I already bought my mouth guard and hot pink tights.

(For anyone who read my original rant - I removed it for two reasons 1) It sounded whiney and 2) the experience of which I ranted will have to just go onto my long list of mistakes I've made which I will have to learn from.)  It's time to move on.

August 06, 2007 in Costanza Project, Photos, Random Thoughts & Realizations, Writing | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

My California Writers Club Bio

Michelesfirstlibrarycard My California Writers Club bio (Michele Miles Gardiner) is now posted, thanks to the club's president, Carol Wood, and her Webmaster husband, Glen. (Photo to the right shows me in front of the address on my library card - 2669  23rd Ave., which was my grandparents' house.)Grandpashouse_1

The bio covers my early love for books and writing, so I thought I'd post this photo of me "reading" Grimm's Fairytales to my baby sister before I could actually read.  I just made stuff up...not that my sister seemed to mind.Readingdenisefairtytales

And to prove my early passion for books, I posted my first library card.  It was so important to me I managed to hang on to it for over three decades.  Deniseshellyreading_2

April 05, 2007 in Books, Photos, Random Thoughts & Realizations, San Franciscan Stuff, Writing | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)

Speaking About Writing & Writing About Speaking

Mespeakingcwc2 The California Writers Club Vice President, Scott Sonders, asked me if I would speak at the April 7th CWC meeting...for an entire HALF HOUR.  He knows two things about me:  One, I am passionate about writing.  And two, I like to talk.

Me:      Whaaah?  What am I going to talk about for a half hour?

Scott:  Think of it as an opportunity.

Me:      Errrrrr....Okay...I guess.

Then I realized (Bwaa haaa haaa!!!) I would have an entire audience held captive - all mine - for a full half hour.  That is an opportunity, considering I have a teenager who won't listen to me for one quarter of a second. 

Anyway, I did speak at the CWC meeting this past Saturday.  And it went well enough that some people even asked if I had copies of what I spoke about to take home.  I didn't, since I just blathered what was in my head.  So below I will write down the main things I spoke about.

***********************************************
Since the reason I come to the California Writer Club's meetings is to share ideas with other writers - in the way Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Stein might have held salons in 1920's era Paris - I thought it would be a chance to share with other writers.  So I asked things I often wonder, to see if anyone could relate, like -

Why is it that some of the best writing ideas come at inappropriate times and odd places? Like when I'm in the shower, covered with soap and without a pen? (I told my husband I said this to an entire audience and he winced).

Do friends call you with wacky stories (what their crazy uncle did in the supermarket, for instance) thinking that you'll write about it?

Does anyone else find that when you finally have a quiet chunk of time to write, that's exactly when you get a mad urge to clean out your refrigerator vegetable bins?

Am I the only one who realizes all the changes I should have made to a piece after I've sent it off to the editor?

Does anyone else find their head gets crowded with critics and judges when they write - like Simon Cowell, Judge Judy and your parents are debating every word, each sentence and your complete merit?

And the worst...

Have you ever picked up a book in a bookstore and thought, I could've written this?  But then you come to the realization - yes, but that writer actually did it.  They took the time and effort it takes to write a book, and you (or I, rather) did not...yet.

----Then I passed around a questionnare, so that other writers could share their answers and I could compile them into a little hand out for the next meeting.  I also gave my own answers to the questions to share with the audience.----

Q. What books do you keep near (or often refer to) when writing?
For me, I often get re-inspired by Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird. All I have to do is read what she has to say about school lunches, and I need to grab my pen to capture the ideas in my head.

Also, I might read A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman, simply for the exquisite way she describes the senses; her writing is so good it's inspiring.

And some of the old stand-bys:  Elements of Style  by Strunk and White and On Writing Well by William Zinsser.

Q. What inspires you to write?
I enjoy trying new (sometimes odd) things, having experiences - like the time I took a writing class from a published rock groupie or a comedy class at Canoga Bowl.  The funniest part of the entire evening at the "comedy" class was listening to an ice fisherman from Flin Flan, Canada discuss his trials during his employment search in Los Angeles.  That made me laugh - an ice fisherman in Los Angeles trying to find work; the comedy teacher did not make me laugh.  But the experience did give me something to write about.

Q. What writing pet peeves do you have?
For instance, cliches - which are almost cliche as far as writing pet peeves go.  Here's one I have:  the hyperbolic use of words, so that word usage is heading in the direction of the standing ovation.  Everything is "amazing," "awesome" or "miraculous" these days.  Just like Jay Leno's audience gives him a standing ovation Monday through Friday...diluting the specialness of the tribute.  It used to be true legends like the late Ray Charles, etc. would be the rare person to receive a standing ovation, now I watch the American Music Awards and Mariah Carey even gets one.  People are handing them out like handy wipes at the AM PM mini-mart.  That's what's happening to words.  Everyone is incredible these days, thus diluting the meaning.

I have to admit, I do this too.  Though I try to make an effort to reserve my complimentary words for the deserving.

Q. What words of inspiration, philosophy or quote helps to motivate you?
I like this Somerset Maugham quote: "Only a mediocre writer is always at his best."

And I also like to remember that Erma Bombeck didn't have her column published until she was 38-years-old and Laura Ingalls Wilder didn't publish her first book until she was 65.

Because, unlike acrobats or gymnasts, we writers can write at any age.  As a matter of fact, the older we get the more experiences we have to write about.
*********************************************************
I had a lot more Q&A, but this post is getting rather long.

I then passed around some great publications, like The Sun Magazine, that seek submissions from freelance writers.  And mentioned that I recently read a childhood friend's story in The Sun.  She even wrote a piece about living in San Francisco State University's Student housing, as I did.  But here's the interesting part, I think - she found the experience rather humilating, while I didn't.  We lived in barrack-style, cockroach infested apartments.  She wrote of being embarrassed of her make-shift bedroom, while I thought she had the coolest room on the block.  Her dad, a theater set decorator, had gutted their pantry, and then created a bunk bed with a desk underneath.  It was draped in tapestry, and felt special, like a secret haven.  But she (the writer) found it too embarassing to even invite classmates home.  Yet I never gave our economic status or our living conditions much thought at all, though the place - crawling with more latch-key kids than parents - has made me want to write about it.

As people (as writers) we may share similiar experiences with others, but have completely opposing perspectives.  So as writers we shouldn't let that stop us from writing a story, simply because something has already been written.  Write it, but from your own perspective - your own slant.

Anyway, I managed to blather away somewhere close to 30 minutes with minimal moments of shame (except, of course, discussing my shower habits).  So I'll compile the answers to my questions from the other writers into a booklet. That way, I not only challenged myself but will also have something tangible from the day.

January 06, 2007 in Photos, Writing | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Technorati Tags: california writer, confessions of a california writer, humorous thoughts on writing, I'm no Anne Lamotte, inspiring writers, life of a California writer, speaking about writing, speech on writing, talking about writing, the California writing life, writers of california

LA Times Festival of Books at UCLA

Yes!!! People in Los Angeles do read.  Not only do we read, but we have the largest book festival in the nation.

Uclajoelinton On Saturday, I bought a book I recommend for anyone who loves and/or lives in LA: "Down By the Los Angeles River." The great cover art caught my eye.  As I reached for the book, I met the author and artist, Joe Linton.  He's so passionate and informative about the LA River - that mostly-cementy-kind-of-watery-thing I drive by or roller blade past and wonder about all the time - that I bought the book. 

It's filled with his great artwork, lots of information about the wildlife that lives on the river; its history and its future, as well as the walkways and bike paths along the way.  Other than the Sepulveda Basin area, I really had no idea the LA River has so much going on.

Next, while scoping out books at a booth, I noticed an older woman who had a Life Magazine photo in her hand: The iconic VJ Day photo of the sailor planting a kiss on a nurse in New York's Times Square.  Turns out the older woman, Edith Shain, is the nurse in the photo.  Edith and I had fun gabbing.  First we talked about her kiss - the sailor caught her off guard and the kiss was very long - and then we talked (I don't know why) about old phone booths (remember those?) and life before call waiting.  It's a little scary.  Edith's almost ninety and yet I could relate to her so well.   Anyway, she was very lively, sweet and full of kind comments.Uclaedithshaneme

Later, I walked by the NPR booth and heard author Susan Straight being interviewed.  I only stopped because I heard her mention her eldest child was at the Coachella music festival.  The interviewer asked, "Oh, so do you think she'll tune in to hear you on the radio?"

I knew I could relate to Susan when she said, "Uh, no.  She doesn't listen to me at home.  Why would she want to hear me on the radio?"  Spoken as a true parent to a teenager.

Susan Straight is an author from the Inland Empire.  I only learned that after stumbling upon the book, "Inlandia," and saw that the forward was written by the very same Susan Straight.  Intrigued, I bought the book and attended a panel discussion with Susan and other writers from "Inlandia," an anthology of Uclanprsusanstraight writers from the Inland Empire.

My only time spent in the Inland part of California is whenever I have to pass through it heading for the San Bernardino Mountains to go skiing or the one time I cruised down part of Route 66.  As the  writers of "Inlandia" tell it, their home has been disparaged as nothing more than where the Hell's Angels, neo-Nazis and smog dwell.  Until then, I knew so little about the Inland Empire, I didn't even realize that much about the area. 

During the panel, the writers spoke of a place they grew up where orange groves and date tree forests were so vast they'd get lost in them; where the Santa Ana winds and the sand would blast the paint off of cars; where the air smelled of Eucalyptus and orange blossoms.  It was where they arrived, grew and stayed.

As a resident of the San Fernando Valley, another maligned Southern California area, I could relate.  While I've only read a few chapters of "Inlandia," I'm really enjoying getting lost in the stories of their misunderstood land.

As I bought "Inlandia" from the Heyday Publishing Founder, Malcolm Margolin, he asked me what I do.  I told him I'm writing "Craving Normal," my stories of growing up in California and traveling the world as the kid of hippies.  Malcolm, the bearded Allen Ginsberg look-a-like, threw back his head and laughed.  "Did your parents feed you lentil loaf when all you really wanted was junk food?" 

I slapped him on the shoulder.  "Yeah, how'd ya guess?"

He told me his kids could relate as children of hippies. 

"Yep, I just wanted a Twinkie,"  I told him.

He nodded in sympathy, as if he'd heard it a million times from his own now-adult kids.Uclajansssteps2

After that, I blathered-and-bored another group of writers as I bought their books.  I made Kevin Roderick's eyes glaze over as I bought his (and co-writer J. Eric Lynxwiler's) beautiful book, "Wilshire Boulevard."  And then I moved over to married writers, David Kipen and Veronique de Turenne, and yakked away as I bought the anthology "My California," to which they both contributed their work.  I had some nerve to blather about my love for California (Oh please kill me now!  What was I thinking? Is all I could think AFTER I had the sense to shut my mouth) when these lovely people donated their work so that the proceeds of the book could benefit the California Arts Council - to bring the arts back into our schools.  Some people are not only talented, but selfless...and then there are people like me.

Speaking of talented and selfless - Next, I stopped to listen to Don Cheadle and John Prendergast, authors of "Not on our Watch:  The Mission to End Genocide in Darfur and Beyond." It was nice to see a huge crowd there.  We all need to do everything we can to end the genocide.  It's unimaginable that so much senseless horror has gone on so long.  They got me realizing that every one of us can contact our politicians and demand they get the killing to stop or they won't get our votes.  Sad to think that's what will make politicians act - as if innocent people being killed isn't a good enough reason to do something.

Next to me on the lawn was a nice woman who offered me a carrot stick.  See, I tell you - there are some good people out there!  But I was too busy stuffing my face with Kettle Corn.  My mouth didn't have room for a carrot stick.  But I thanked her for asking.  And, hey!  she's a Valley-ite like me.  See, we Valley people do get out and are curious about the world around us.

Then, I stopped by the Skylight Books booth and bought "The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister."  Thank you, Chris Nichols for writing this book.  I had no idea all the wonderful architecture Wayne McAllister contributed to California.   It'll go right next to Kevin Roderick's and J. Eric Lynxwiler's "Wilshire Boulevard" on my coffee table.

Uclaupperground As I was leaving the UCLA campus, I came upon a Latin flavored Ska band called "Upground."  They're young guys from East Los Angeles who had a huge multi-generational, multi-cultural crowd grooving.  They're really talented.  Not only could they play well, but the vocals were really good, too - so good I bought a CD.  It's the type of music that makes you want to get up and dance.  One man in his 60s was getting funky, while a toddler spun around below the stage, and everyone else was bobbing their heads and smiling.

Yes, it was another great festival of books.  Every year it gets better.  Now, I just need to find time to read everything I bought.

*More of my Festival of Books photos will be on my Flickr page.

January 03, 2007 in Books, California, Los Angeles, Music, Writing | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)

I'm Crazy for Books!

I'm off to spend the day at the LA Times Festival of Books.  I was there yesterday, too.  What an amazing day.  Tonight or tomorrow I'll post photos of the interesting authors and people I met.

Hopefully, today my built in "Shut up now!!!" alarm will go off.  Yesterday, I found myself talking until the once-listeners' eyes glazed over.  Ugh!  I get a little nutty around books.  Hey, I'm not the only one.  This festival is getting crazy - just crawling with book groupies. 

I met a publisher from Berkeley yesterday who admitted to being an original nay-sayer, "Nah! You can't have a book festival in LA.  Nobody reads there."  Wow, was he wrong.  But he's happy to admit it.  Yep, every year it gets more crowded with book lovers.  And people will wait in massively long lines as the sun beats down on them just to have a book signed or to get tickets to an author panel.  So I'm not alone.

Anyway, I'm off!  But this time I vow to listen to my inner "Shut up!!" alarm.

Until my next post, here's an opinon piece I wrote that's in today's LA Daily News, originally titled "Techno Bubble."  It's another one of those cranky little things I write that makes me sound like I'm a ninety-year-old woman yelling at kids to get off my lawn.

January 03, 2007 in Writing | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

What a Funky Week: The weather and How I Stunk Up the Joint

January19_1 Let's see...Southern California experienced hail, ice and snow in places as odd as Malibu Beach this week.  And now the weather is gloriously clear, warm and sunny.  So the weather was about as odd and funky as my week.  

Take last night for instance...Please! (Ba dum bum!)  I'd like to take it back if I could.  It was my first less than fun open-mike experience at Border's Books in Canoga Park.  Until last night I was having so much fun reading. 

In September, I read "Eat It, It Won't Hurt You," true and frightening frugal tales of living with my father, the cheapest man I've ever known; a man who got our family held at gun point when he refused to pay for the "ridiculously" priced gas in Belgium, after filling his tank.

The next month I read, "Craving Normal," tales of feeling less than normal as I ate my father-made lunches - of wheat on cheddar and browned apple slices - in transparent produce bags, while most kids had Twinkies and Wonderbread sandwiches in real lunch boxes.  Those kids wore cardigans, while I came to school in lederhosen and an embroidered sheepskin coat...and other humilating childhood experiences of growing up with parents who said "Far oooouuuut" way too often.

And for the holidays I read, "One Twisted Christmas" about the December of 1967 when my father horrified our suburban neighborhood by placing Santa on his back on top of our roof, with a toy gun in his hand pointed at his head.

People loved those tales.  They loved them so much that Matt, the open-mike organizer, asked me to read first last night, and even introduced me as the California Writing Club's "Own Michele Miles."  Nobody's called me their own before.  I walked up to the microphone with my shoulders back.  And then my ego quickly deflated.

I read "Like a Rolling tomato," my experiences of feeling like an alien in a corporate job.  I read about the culture of jargon-filled memos, mandatory nylons and ties, angry and cliquey female co-workers who preyed upon anyone with an inkling of joy.  And how I managed to leave so I could spend time with my daughter, start my own business and once again have a life free of cubicles and corporate manuals.  I escaped like the cherry tomato I plucked from the deli platter that rolled out of my fingers, toward a CEO who droned on during a meeting about financial projections, as I fell asleep.

I was sure this was a story others could relate to, could chuckle at, and maybe find an inkling of inspiration...no such luck.  As I read, I could tell by the quiet of the audience (which was larger than usual due to the announcement in the Daily News) that this story wasn't working.  I couldn't read fast enough.  I just wanted to get back to my seat and away from the microphone.  The only thing I was thankful for is that my husband didn't come to see me.  It was horrible.

"Nah.  It was probably better than you thought," my husband said, trying to make me feel better.

"Uhhhh...no.  I'm pretty sure I stunk up the joint.  Especially after I saw what the older woman in a pouffy circa 1958 hair-do seated in front of me wrote in her note book: "Michelle...tomato...not interesting to me."

Januarygray2_2 Yep, it was a funky week in many ways - the weatherJanuarysun_1 was odd, and my open-mike night was worse.  But, hey, that's in the past, right?  The sun's shining now and I'll just learn from my mistakes and persevere.  Arrrrgghhhh...I'm trying my hardest to be positive, but I'm even annoying myself.

January 01, 2007 in Photos, Random Thoughts & Realizations, Writing | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)