Chatsworth, Pron Capital

Note: the picture above is not a picture of Chatsworth, although it is ghetto enough that it could/should be. It is actually Abbot's Habit in Venice. More on that below.

My friend JV claims that Chatsworth is where all the porn stars live and work. I am not so sure, although several nudie bars did catch my eye as I took the scenic route along Topanga Canyon Road to Lassen and then to Canoga. I made the hour-long trek over to Chatsworth, during the hottest part of the Valley afternoon, via the 101, to get my car checked out by TK, an aging auto mechanic hailing from Tokyo with a penchant for fast Japanese cars. Perfect.

He charged me $20 for a quick inspection, wherein he told me that (1) my motor mount was not in need of replacement, (2) nor were my struts, (3) timing belt needs another 15k miles to go (replace at 105k) (4) I need the 90k service, (5) I need new rear bushings because the rubber is cracked, (6) and I definitely need new tires. Thank goodness I don't need a motor mount and struts like those other bastards at the dealership told me. What a crock of bullshit!

But the point is, Chatsworth is an interesting town. It's kinda ghetto with all the nudie bars and auto repair shops, yet Valley-ish with the big Nordstrom-anchored mall and nice houses south of the 101. The Carl's Jr. bathroom had a large bedpan-shaped toilet seat bolted to the toilet. I wish I had had my cell phone to take a great picture.

But TK was cool, he straight up told me what I needed and offered to help me find a stick shift and to sell my car if need be. He liked that I played guitar and lent me some tools to attach the pickup to my guitar's soundhole. He wanted my North Carolina license plates too, whenever I got a California registration. LOL, of course I'm not giving them to him!

Later that evening, I went to Abbot's Habit on Abbot Kinney Road in Venice for their open mic. One woman, Jenny, had a beautiful country voice and cute blonde children who chatted with me. But the other guys there were complete posers, and I heard more covers in the hour and a half I was there than I'd ever heard at all the open mics I've ever been to combined! So much for my preconceptions, that funky Venice people would scorn anyone playing a single cover.

The coffee shop was staffed by a grungy looking guy with lots of facial hair. The sound was decent, the crowd was weird and bohemian, a la: I stink, I have blond dreadlocks, I smoke weed five times a day, I'm so great because I'm alternative ... I'm so glad I elected not to live in Venice because it fucking sucks! Yucky hippie-wanna-bes up on their high horses. Puke!!!

This guy was blocking the door when I was going outside to tune up, then when he finally let me pass, he slammed the door on my precious baby guitar. WTF??!!!!! I was so pissed off. What a lame crowd. The Lower Haight, my old stomping grounds, is similar in holier-than-thou hippie vibes, but not as mean. No way this would've happened in the Lower Haight.

Oh, the only good thing about Abbot's Habit is their biscotti: pumpkin spice, lemon ginger, mint chocolate chip. Yummy!

After playing my two songs, I bounced and met this guy in Marina Del Rey to test drive his beautiful white '99 Prelude. Love that car. Wish my legs were longer so I could reach the clutch more comfortably.