I Am Ruel’s Twisted Sense of Narrative

Nuff said.

The good folks at the Golden Apple Comics on Melrose had this display set up, so I figure I should just be like every other fan boy and get my picture taken with Homer and the gang. Haven’t seen the movie but I’m really looking forward to it.

And by the way, I would like to make it perfectly clear that the only reason I was in the store was because Riley coaxed me into entering.

"We can’t do that!" I practically hissed at him. "That would be like betraying Secret Headquarters! What would David and Dave (Secret Headquarters’ co-owners)think?"

"Aw come on," Riley retorted. "It’s not like we’re going to get caught."

Five minutes later, and Riley taps me on the shoulder. "We are so busted," he whispers. "David’s here!"

Last night, after a matinee at The Grove, me and Riley headed over to Echo Park for the Lotus Festival. As much as I love that event, the parking, or lack thereof, drives me bananas. Making matters worse was a fire at the corner of Sunset Blvd and Alvarado that was still not completely out. Hence the massive traffic jam in that vicinity, with several fire engines blocking Alvarado. Even worse, I found out when we were walking by that the fire had razed the cluster of old buildings where the Echo Park Film Center was located. I just discovered that place! I was going to take some film classes there after Labor Day! It’s not fair!

(Ruel whines for several more minutes. )

Anyway, the festival itself was fun. Because of the all the trouble with traffic and parking, we just had time to get ourselves some grub and stake out a spot of our own on the grass as the sun went down. Then the fireworks came on, which were pretty awesome. [Note to Future Ruel: Next year, sit on the Glendale Avenue side for a better view of the fireworks.]

Alright, this is getting ridiculous. I started this particular category just to track the occassional celeb (A-list to D– it’s all the same with me) I’d cross paths with in my neck of the woods. But heck, it seems like everywhere I go, there’s always someone.

So I finally muster up the will to go to the gym this afternoon, after what seems like several weeks. Five minutes in, I spot Eric Dane of Grey’s Anatomy and X-Men 3 chilling at the shake bar.  Later on, after some cardio and hitting my back and biceps, I decide to cap it off with some quad presses. It took me a moment to realize that the guy on my left was Robert Gant, who’s best remembered as the hunky HIV+ professor on Queer As Folk.  I heard him speak at an HRC dinner a few years ago. A well-spoken and passionate guy.

Okay, that’s it. I now refuse to blog about any other celebrity for at least two weeks. Unless it’s Jake Gyllenhaal.

Technically, I suppose this isn’t a Where I Live entry, since it occurred at the JFK Airport in New York. But dang it, I see the guy all the time in my neighborhood, noshing with his wife and kids at the Town and Country Bakery, where Patrick and I hang out as well (it’s down the street from SHQ). I just haven’t had a chance to blog about him till now.

So I’ve hunkered down for a two hour wait for my flight. It’s all good– I’ve got stuff to read, and my trusty iPod to entertain me. Which is why it wasn’t until twenty minutes before boarding that I spot Justin Chambers of Grey’s Anatomy, looking dapper in a houndstooth hat. He posed for photos with a fan before we started boarding. And for a few brief minutes, he was seated across the aisle from me, in the emergency exit seats. But once the stewardess came by to give us the mandatory you-are-responsible-in-the-event-of-an-accident-to-do-this-and-this, Chambers asked to be reseated in the back. Not sure what that’s all about.

My sister Melissa’s exhibit at the Philippine Center in New York kicked off with a reception earlier tonight. We had a good crowd turn out for the event, including some old family friends and a cousin. My sister and I had spent all morning setting up the installation–more work than it appears. But it was certainly a good experience, and I got to learn a lot about how exhibitions are put on. This’ll certainly be a lot easier the next time we do this.

Afterwards, I went out to dinner with my friend John. We traipsed around what seemed like dozens of blocks (Up 5th Avenue, across 49th Street, through Rockefeller Plaza, past Broadway, down 9th, down Rodgers and Hammerstein Row) before settling on Juniors, where we feasted on diner-type fare and some really good cheesecake.

And how’s this for serendipity: I was telling John about one of my favorite essays about New York City. Trouble is, I’d forgotten the name of the author. When John had to take a call and leave the table, I had a direct view of a poster at the Booth Theater, which was for a new Vanessa Redgrave play, written by Joan Didion. Who of course, wrote the essay in question, Goodbye To all That:

Part of what I want to tell you is what it is like to be young in New York, how six months can become eight years with the deceptive ease of a film dissolve, for that is how those years appear to me now, in a long sequence of sentimental dissolves and old-fashioned trick shots—the Seagram Building fountains dissolve into snowflakes, I enter a revolving door at twenty and come out a good deal older, and on a different street. But most particularly I want to explain to you, and in the process perhaps to myself, why I no longer live in New York. It is often said that New York is a city for only the very rich and the very poor. It is less often said that New York is also, at least for those of us who came there from somewhere else, a city only for the very young.

I arrived in New York this afternoon to help my sister Melissa with her exhibit, which kicks off at the Philippine Center on Monday, July 2nd.  This was my first time on JetBlue and man, what a difference DirectTV makes on a five hour flight. If I can spend part of that time watching Christopher Eccleston in Doctor Who, then it is time well spent.

  After a two hour shuttle ride from JFK, my sister and I had dinner with her friend Joseph at this charming place called the Yaffa Cafe in the East Village. I gotta admit, there’s a part of me that could easily live in New York. I really do like the more bohemian neighborhoods (or the ones that pass for Bohemian), and knowing that I’m a cab/subway ride away from places like Central Park or Times Square would really make me a happy city boy. Don’t get me wrong– I love L.A. But there’s is something about a more densely packed city like NYC or SF that appeals to me. Better public transportation, less distance to cover to get to where you want. It would be nice.

Afterwards we ducked in to a K-Mart to grab some picture frames and other supplies for tomorrow’s exhibit. That will make tomorrow’s work easier!

Nothing says summer fun like downing three glasses of cheap beer at an outdoor concert. We were among the thousands of ‘mos who flocked to the True Colors Concert Saturday night at the Greek Theater. Awesome, awesome show. Margaret Cho was in fine form, as was Andy Bell of Erasure. Cyndi Lauper was also great, although I was disappointed that Deborah Harry didn’t perform more of her Blondie hits. Although I suppose there’s some good reason for that. And despite the many rumors/threats, Britney Spears did not perform. The tragedy of it all.

The one awesome discovery for me was The Dresden Dolls, who describe themselves as "Brechtian punk cabaret." I’d actually heard one of their hits a few days ago at the Buffy Singalong. Coin Operated Boy has since become one of my favorites– it manages to be amusing while still maintaining a sense of pathos about the inability to find a real person to love. And even that is laced with mocking self-consciousness:

this bridge was written to make you feel smitten-er
with my sad picture of girl getting bitter-er
can you extract me from my plastic fantasy
i didnt think so but im still convinceable
will you persist even after i bet you
a billion dollars that i’ll never love you
will you persist even after i kiss you
goodbye for the last time
will you keep on trying to prove it?

Really great band to see live.

One of the great things about living in Silverlake is having one of the best comic book stores around. You can have your Golden Apple! Patrick and I have decided that we aren’t buying comics anywhere else except at Secret Headquarters a charming, friendly place in Sunset Junction. I personally love it because it casts a kind of grown-up light on my dorkish fanboy sensibilities.

Last night we did a comic book run after work. While Patrick was chatting with SHQ co-owner David, I ambled over to the trade paperback shelves to see what was new. As is my habit, I had "tuned out" other people in the store (I tend to be anti-social after work hours; sue me), so I wasn’t paying much attention to anybody. Except this one grungy guy who was blocking my path to the shelves. Damnit! Grrrr. Argh.

It took me a moment to realize it was Scott Speedman, he of Underworld and Underworld: Evolution. And for those of you who lived for those WB shows, he’s also Felicity’s Ben. Seems like a nice enough guy. Hopefully, we’ll see Underworld 3 soon!

So it’s Wednesday night and I’m trying to get to my writing group in Westwood. In We had planned to meet at Jerry’s Deli on Weyburn, just a short walk from UCLA. To avoid traffic, I take Olympic Blvd. from Koreatown all the way to Westwood. The moment I hit Santa Monica, I knew there was something that I’d forgotten to take into account. The frigging L.A. Film Festival. Now I was all full of love for LAFF last Saturday, but it’s now Wednesday and I’m already friggin late. I find parking at UCLA’s Lot 32, then proceed to make my way up to Jerry’s Deli.

And right there, where Weyburn and Broxton meet, I see him, standing proud like this metal god: Bumblebee!

What I had completely forgotten was that Transformers was premiering at the LAFF. So of course everybody was there: Shia LeBeouf, Josh Duhamel, Brandon Routh, and Joshua Jackson. Heck even the Queen, Helen Mirren, was there. But did I see any of them? Nope. Coz i was late for my writers group meeting. <Sigh> What we do for our craft.

But how’s this for a consolation prize? Later that night I met Patrick and some friends for the Buffy Singalong (Did you just roll your eyes at me? Was that a snicker? Shut the heck up!!!). The event, which was also part of LAFF, was entirely sold out. It was lots of fun, although my friend Randie, who loves this episode and was really looking forward to the event, didn’t really sing along– I swear she was just lipsyncing. Anyway, at the end of the show, who should show up but Buffy/Serenity creator Joss Whedon! 

That definitely made the evening.

"Well, he felt sorry for the boys who lived in California where they wore tennis shoes all year and never knew what it was to get winter off your feet, peel off the iron leather shoes full of snow and rain and run barefoot for a day and then lace on the first new tennis shoes of the season, which was better than barefoot. the magic was always in the new pair of shoes. The magic might die by the first of September, but now in late June there was plenty of magic, and shoes like these could jump you over trees and rivers and houses."