Posts Tagged ‘Bartending’

So, I’m been meditating on/contemplating slowly and casually researching a more long term project in a different medium. As with many of my projects these days, some of it has to do with Chicago. A city, presence, and history that looms rather large in my mind the further and further I travel from it. I would love to infuse more Los Angeles into my work. I absolutely love the feel and rhythm of the city. But, for now, Chicago holds court for the most part. It gets the podium when it wants. Lots hours and miles and years traveled there. So there’s raw material aplenty and much of it is too beguiling to just ignore. As I’ve started to do more and more, in the early stages of research and circling something in my head, I tend to collect photos.

I’ve discussed how much I absolutely love and am drawn to the still photograph. How it represents a diving board for my imagination, one rooted in reality. A hair trigger to a story or a scene or an emotion that often spins into something else. So, today, rather than do some work or read, as I told myself I would do on what is probably my last day of vacation in a long, long time, I instead meander through the stacks and stacks of photo streams on Flickr, searching for images of Wicker Park, the neighborhood I lived in for nearly fifteen years in Chicago. Wicker Park has its history and I won’t quite get into here, yet. I’m sure I’ll wade into that hot button topic (in the years that I lived there, Wicker Park became ground zero/an international case study for the effects, both positive and negative, of Urban Gentrification) at some point when I do begin work on this project. (To be clear, it’s not a TV or Film project, so it’s clock is strictly my clock, so who knows when exactly that will be.) Simply what I mean to say before I roll out the photos is that in seeing these streets, where I not only lived, but also worked for so long. Spending my time locked up in this one stretch of Chicago, maybe one half of a square mile at best, twenty-four seven, at all hours of the day and night. That I’m struck by the grittiness of Chicago, compared with Los Angeles. That’s not to say L.A. doesn’t have it’s truly rough parts. Maybe it’s the constant sun, or the way the landscape breaks – whatever it is, L.A. doesn’t strike me as so compact and constructed and old. It doesn’t have the same rawness I see in these photos. Anyways. Here is Wicker Park, circa early 21st Century, about three years past the apex of the gentrification battle.

That's the Six Corners, formed by the intersection of Milwaukee, North, and Damen Ave. It's the heart of Westown, which is Wicker Park, Bucktown, and the Ukrainian Village. The road, North Ave, on the left, is a border between Bucktown and Wicker Park. I lived and worked within two-three blocks of this intersection for nearly a decade. That's downtown in the distance behind the Flat Iron Building.

The Coyote Building which is where the previous picture was taken from. The neighborhood's internationally acclaimed art walk takes its name from this building. The art walk is simply known as "Around The Coyote."

This is taken of the corners from the Flat Iron building. It also captures the Chicago, I recall most - overcast, rainy.

The main alleyway, off of Damen Ave. I can tell this is taken right at the mouth of the alley, which means if you look at the previous photo and locate the North Community Bank sign, next to the Blue Line El Platform, the photographer was just around the corner from there, a quarter of a block. I lived in an apartment that was two buildings down on the right and another one that was five buildings down on the left.

The Damen Ave El stop, which I lived several doors down, right across the park when I first moved to the neighborhood. Three stops and you're in the Loop. This is directly opposite the mouth of the alley in the photo above.

Outside the Double Door, a rock club next to the mouth of the alley. The Rolling Stones played here. Among many other big, small, unknown and friends bands. It's called Double Door because it has this door on Damen and another door on Milwaukee, just around the corner. That's big June, the longtime doorman. Whenever he was working I had an all-access pass. I used to raid there ice machine when ours down the street at Nick's would break down in the summer.

Some folks hanging on Milwaukee Ave, a couple of doors down from the corners. Looks like just outside Earwax Cafe.

This is inside Earwax Cafe. I knew Nick the own, through my fellow Wicker Park Ex-Pat, Brett. Earwax started out as a used CD/eclectic video rental/cafe/hangout spot. Fifteen years later is would evolve into an eclectic cafe with a progressive menu written up favorably in the NY TImes Sunday Section. Which was pretty cool to see.

Night time in the six corners. There are somewhere, or were, in the order of fifty or so bars, taverns, clubs, and dives - some of which saty open until 2 a.m., others until 4 a.m. in a fifteen block radius (if that) around the corners. This looks like an early week night. Pretty slow. I worked right in the heart of this for most of my doorman/bartending career.

Heilman Cold Beer signs. They're all over the place. Along with Pabst. Many, because of the Polish Heritage of the neighborhood, don't say "Cold Beer" they say "Zimne Piwo" which is cold beer in polish. Don't let the door hit you in the dupa on the way out!

The Pontiac Cafe, after my time there, which was the most infamous of bars and dives that I tended bar at. This is also the bar where I had my last drink. Served by Johnny Angel, who also got me sober. How do you like that for irony? In my time, we didn't have that plank/boundary thing - that was city mandated after it was discovered Buddy, the owner, didn't have the proper permits for it. in my day anything that was concrete was patio, so the patio was twice that area. Man, this place....It still defies words (not in a good way.) It's closed now. Which is as it should be. This is one building over, and on the other side of the El Tracks, from the Double Door picture above

Inside the Pontiac Cafe, at the corner of the bar, which was the place that you wanted to be. Guess who is standing, just to the left here? That's right. That's me. Beardless. Looking sharp. Must've been on my way out to dinner or something. It's almost ten years ago. I've definitely stopped drinking and all that, based on the people around me. I'm talking to Gina Black of The Blacks, a country-punk band and a Pontiac waitress. Crazy isn't it? I found this photo by accident on Flickr. I was startled to notice myself standing there. Seems like forever and a day.

This weekend, my dear, dear friend Elissa, (from Chicago) was in town. She’s a big time, hard-working class action/worker’s rights lawyer back in the windy city and an old movie buddy of mine. It was a treat to see her. I’ve been thwarted, more times than I care to count, in attempts to return to Chicago to visit friends their. Either, I had the money, but couldn’t get away because of some deadline, or I didn’t have the money, but had all the time in the world (usually in the summer.) It’s been frustrating, to say the least. On just a personal level now that almost three years have passed, I’ve been dying to go back just to see the city again, visit the old neighborhood, and just be on its streets again for old time’s sake. I lived their so long that I would experience, if it’s possible, the thrill of visiting Chicago; which I remember so fondly from when I was little and would come with my parents, as well as in college in Milwaukee when we would jet down for various escapades. It was, and always will be, my first “big city” – the capital of the midwest – and carries all the thrill and electricity when visiting that it means to go to a big, cosmopolitan place where roads from all over converge. L.A. feels slightly different than that. First of all it’s big, so much bigger than any other huge capitaleseque city I’ve ever been in. There is nothing close or compact about it. Secondly, and more importantly, it’s incredibly de-centralized. Incredibly, almost maniacally so. Therefore, it feels more like a grab bag of towns, villages, and a few small almost-cities loosely arranged in one general spot everyone refers to as “Los Angeles.”

Regardless, I digress. With Elissa in town, I traveled over to Echo Park, where she is staying with another old friends of hers, Julia, whom I know also from Wicker Park in Chicago (the old ‘hood.) Julia’s been out here awhile – since 2002, or so. We had not crossed paths yet. Turns out Elissa is here because all her close girlfriends were getting together here to kind of have an informal reunion. Some had moved on from Chicago and it had been a long time since they had all been together in one place. In the midst of this, Julia had just moved and was throwing a kind of house warming party, which is where I caught with Elissa and the rest of the crew – most whom I know fairly well from Elissa. It was great to sit and chat and catch up. Elissa’s always been such a good friend. For a long time we went to the movies weekly – usually on a Tuesday night, or Wednesday. I mean over years. She was in law school by then. We had met through the bar business. She had been a Server when I first met her, then got out to go to law school. It was a wonderful ritual.

Echo Park, though, to give you an idea is way on the east side of L.A. Remember back in the 80′s when latino comedians like Paul Rodriguez and Cheech Marin would make jokes about ‘East L.A.?” (I think they even made a movie, right? Born in East L.A.?) That’s Echo Park. It was the barrio once upon a time. Now, it’s one of three neighborhoods in L.A. where there’s been some gentrification – not completely – but some and a ton of Hipsters flooded the area. Most all of L.A.’s music scene is actually centered in and around there – the bands all live there, the clubs where they start out are all there. It’s its own world almost, because it’s so east. So, heading over to see Elissa was an adventure – which in L.A. is always fun. Again, vast being the key word. In traffic, this neighborhood is over an hour away; but without traffic is more like a half hour. The terrain is a bit bit different – very hilly and the streets are quite twisty. It’s much grittier (in certain parts); but really just reminiscent of places in Chicago that were a lot rougher – like Humboldt Park in the late 90s, Wicker Park in the early 90′s, and Ukrainian Village in the mid-90s. So, in a lot of ways, it felt like I was traveling back to Chicago (and in time) by going to the party.

Julia’s apartment is in what must’ve been a mansion of some kind, or, possibly, a municipal building. It was this epic columned, old, stately two story, high up on this steep hill (we’re talking four flights of stairs just to get to the front door.) The building had been carved into 2 bedroom and 1 bedroom apartments some time ago. The interior was very vintage. Julia’s apartment had some detail that was period (maybe 50s, maybe 30s.) She was up on the second floor, with an amazing view. At the party their was a tarot card reader, so I got my cards read. One word that came up in my reading, unprompted, was “teacher.” The spiritualist felt strongly that being a teacher was a part of my future. (Also, Jason – as long as we are cautious in our negotiations – financial success, professionally, should be coming soon. Very soon.) The last element was that I would find love, as long as I wasn’t guarder – but rather open to it – in the next two weeks to two months. So, somebody remember that and we’ll check back in August, see how things turn out. I think my odds are good.

Good night!

Kind of conked out early last night, thus no post. That’s been happening to me more and more lately. I wonder if my body is finally starting to rebel and force me to go to sleep at a more normal hour. We shall see about that!

- Okay. The Cardinals are in first and were looking pretty darn good up until this week. I’m not hitting the panic button yet, but a few trends alarm me. In short order: What happened to Chris Carpenter’s fastball? Is it me, or is the entire right side of the bullpen taking on water already? Apparently, the only way we score runs is by hitting home runs. Will Brendan Ryan find his stroke again? Is Tony mad because their winning, but he can see the warning signs; or this line-up is so non-flexible he can’t switch the batting order around every day to torture the press and keep himself engaged?

- Met an old friend who’s living out here, has been for awhile, works as an actor. He’s been in national commercials, guest spots on shows, and is a company member of Tim Robbin’s Actor’s Gang (or their equivalent, I’m not sure there’s a formal arrangement like most theater troupes.) We met in Silverlake, which was a rare journey to the east side.  George has been out here a lot longer than I have, actually. Anyways, Silverlake feels a lot like Wicker Park in Chicago, so that was fun. I walked up to coffee shop where we met and it was like I was instantly transported back.

- Had a conference call (Jason and I) with the lawyer today. He had spoken with the manager and they had hatched a game plan to go out to Agencies in the next few days, basically pitching us for representation – putting a team together (of Agents) to cover both TV and Feature. It is quite an amazing thing to have these two, experienced individuals out there, doing this for us. Hopefully (say some prayers) it gets us to where we need to go.

-Still want an ipad, really bad!

-Started back in on my play lately. I feel, honestly, quite disconnected from it and, uncharacteristically, nervous about not being able to write the second act. I just need to sit down and blow it out. But, for various reasons, that’s been tricky this week. I would chalk it up to Spring fever, the end of school, too many other things going on; but it’s not really that. In all honestly, it’s just fear. Plain old, boring fear that I can’t fdo it. I can’t finish the thing – which is actually ridiculous. It’s inevitable (not because it’s for a class, but rather because the first is solid enough to dictate the completion of it) that I will finish it.

- I miss my dear friend Tiffany! I could use some theater and a poker night or two.

- If you haven’t yet, you should check out Jakob Dylan’s latest solo album, Women & Country, with miss Neko Case featured as a back-up vocalist on most all of the tracks. That’s one of things I love most about Neko, she seems to be willing to go wherever and do whatever – if it it’s intriguing. She’s even going out on tour with Dylan, to sing his songs. I really admire that spirit of collaboration. It is a fantastic quality to have in one’s life.

I think that’s it. For now. More tomorrow.

It’s that time of the year again. We lose the hour we gained in the fall. I must confess, I believe Arizona does it right – let’s just leave time alone and quick shuffling it around. My thoughts are with all you bartenders and cocktail waitresses and doormen out there tonight. Especially in the Chicago 4 o’clock bars. You would think the city would pass some kind of ordinance or law regarding this particular evening in the Windy City. Alas, they don’t. So, as is the case on Saturday nights normally, bars are open an extra hour. So the 4 o’clock licenses are open until 5 a.m., and you would guess that because we spring forward, they get an hour back and a thrilled with the short night. Lord knows, in the fall, when you “fall” back, the Bar Owners force you to adhere to the time switch and add the extra hour to the night, milking it for all they can. But, they don’t give you that hour back. Instead, they claim it doesn’t kick in until after you close. Which, means you still grind it out for the full slot. Never, never, never a fun night in the late night bars. Especially this close to St. Patrick’s Day.

The Friday Night Random were a little short. I was a bit sleepy, so I had to pull the plug. Besides, seems like things are at a cruising altitude lately and not much newness is afoot. Besides, taking a peek beyond at post Spring Quarter a.k.a. the rest of my life, and seeing what might come next for a little bit, as I let several options play out. Not quite sure what that all looks like quite yet. You could say I’m taking a pretty thorough inventory of all that I have going in my life – as in what financially do I have to maintain in my day to day between the doctors and my rent and the loans and general bills, etc… There are a lot more moving parts to my life in L.A., than there ever was in Chicago. Lots of personal things that I started which I would strongly prefer to keep going, so it will take a bit more thinking and planing and, ultimately, good old fashioned faith. As long as I take action where and when I can, the rest will follow when it’s needed. Maybe not when I want, but it always does when it’s needed. This much I know is true. This much I’ve learned first hand over the past ten years.

So another wonderful play tonight out in Pasadena. It was MEN OF TORTUGA by the Furious Theater Company. The production was tightly directed and the actors were spot on. The play itself featured some hilariously wicked lines and the whole performance zipped along at a lightning fast pace. Overall the run time was just under two hours, but felt like forty-five minutes. Again, their was no intermission, but scenes were fairly contained and their were blackouts in between each; which is how I’m structuring my play, KEPT. Overall, I would say MEN OF TORTUGA was the play that is most similar, that I’ve seen or read,  to the actual rhythm/construction of mine. The scenes are not super short like some of Craig Lucas’ in RECKLESS, which we read for class. Neither are they epic long like Edward Albee’s THE GOAT or THREE TALL WOMEN.

In all honesty, I’ve really fallen in love with the theater all over again. It’s been a long time. Part of me wonders about the feasibility of getting a second MFA in Playwriting at some point, mostly to open up any teaching career down the road to more opportunities. One thing that’s been unique, and mesmerizing to me in a writer-geek way, during this excursion into this form is that I’ve slowly developed a completely different process to tackling the telling of a story in it. This is a process that is thoroughly the anti-thesis of my process for writing television pilots or screenplays. In film writing, I am a planner. I am a developer. I utilize a “platform” method and writing a script can take on the rhythm of building a house. There are steps, progressions, that must be met to ensure a strong story that will stand up to the elements. Things aren’t always as rigid as this sounds, but for the most part their is a methodology at play. Very specific tools are used to tackle problems and questions, to draw out the best solutions. In writing a play, I have settled into an early approach of complete investigation. I write a scene, step back and see what is going on, what emotions and thoughts are at play and proceed from their to the next scene that I feel I should write. Scenes are written out of order. Sometimes, in writing a scene for KEPT, I don’t even know where it will go or if it will stay in. Therefore, in the shaping of the play I slowly tease out what I would endeavor to plan out in a film script (The narrative throughline and the emotional arc.) I’ll have a sense, unformed even, of what I want it to be, but not the foggiest notion of what that will ultimately entail. It’s so freeform and I think if you polled most of my peers they would say I was definitely not a free form writer. So, in accomplishing this beautiful defeat of all my normal tendencies, I’ve really broaden my horizons and settled deeper into the process of writing, over the results. That is a stellar lesson to learn.

Went to see some old, old friends of mind – The Brians (who are one half of a wonderful band The Great Crusades) at the Cat Club on Sunset, right next to the famed Whisky A-Go-Go. Which, although, The Whisky’s known as the epicenter of the late 60s club scene in L.A. where the Doors and many others were launched; I remember it more fondly for its appearance in The Graduate. The Cat Club is owned by the drummer from the Stray Cats of all people and the bartender operates as the soundman as well as serving drinks – no thank you!

I digress. It was nice to see Brian and Brian play. They have a new album out and I never got the story on why they were in L.A. They’re very far afield from their home base in Chicago. Usually, any band related travels take them south to Missouri and east to Germany where they are much more well known than in the States (sadly.) I walked into the club just as they started. I’ve seen the Great Crusades many, many times – and worked quite a few of their shows. I’ve even ridden to Saint Louis in their econoline tour van. I’ve lost touch with them in the last few years in Chicago – seeing them only intermittenly. We had all revolved around the infamous (and reviled) dive The Pontiac Cafe, where I tended bar for five years in the heart of Chicago’s hipster/artists ghetto Wicker Park. Brian Krumm lived across the way with his now wife Laura Coy and were regulars. Brian Leach was a fellow rabble rouser and running buddy with me, before I hung up my dancing shoes.

I won’t lie, though. I’m not one to look back too much. When I move on, I tend to move on. It’s a fault of mine. I work on it, but I haven’t gotten much better at it over the years. Therefore, it struck me as quite strange to be standing in a dingy rock club listening to the two of them play, as I had done almost regularly – a thousand miles away – ten years ago. I’ve had a few Chicago folks visit – some Second Cityites I’ve met up with when they were in town, Brett came west and Simeon is here; but the Second City folks were more work friends and Brett’s family, basically, and Simeon’s just a citizen of the world. So, this was different.

Like I said, it was nice, but it also made me see just how far I’ve come since those days (Thank God) and reminded me just how profoundly grateful I am to be here now. I won’t lie about this either – I’m almost three years into my Los Angeles residency and I can’t imagine EVER living anywhere else. I am fully and deeply in love with this city and the life I live here. All, I want to do is move closer to the Ocean and be able to travel. Okay, I take that back a bit. I’ve never been to Italy, but Aunt Ginger and I believe that I would like to live there, too – but that’s when I retire to go write novels in my old age and it won’t be year ’round. Until then, I can’t wait to see what Los Angeles hold for me next.