Malediction Society

My antics in L.A. just don't seem to stop, do they? I'm getting way too burnt out to keep this up.

Friday night I stopped by the Unurban coffee shop on Pico in Santa Monica for their open mic. Loads of skeezy old men and just me and two other girls (the host jokingly referred to us as "skirts" and jokingly admitted his misogyny). I'm amazed how forward and aggressive the guys in L.A. are. Even the gross old ones. They were extremely forward and it made me feel very uncomfortable.

But the coffee shop was cozy, with theater chairs and couches and sofa chairs for seating. The sound was brilliant, and the blonde lesbian barista was very friendly, especially after we compared tattoos. We girls stuck together and gushed about each others' music. One girl had a wispy romantic voice, and the other had a forlorn country twang, both played beautiful songs. My name was drawn last, which meant I got to play three songs instead of two, and I get to play the opening 30-minute set next week. Wow!

I made friends with the other girls and I ended up having drinks at Joker with one of them. We each had beers and saddled each other with the woes of our love lives. C traveled here from Jersey to pursue music and acting, but she's spent time in Australia as well. By the way, if you ever make it to Joker, which is on Pico, it's quiet an interesting crowd. The bartender is a Harley woman with a large forehead - very cute personality, though. You get all kinds of Harley-ish types as well as little starlet-looking girls and gay-looking pretty boys.

Saturday started off poorly, as they were doing work on the doors and the sawing kept me from falling back asleep. I made my way to Carrillo for an OK surf session ... It's been really big in Malibu on the weekends; it's too bad I didn't go out during the week when it was smaller. But the climb down to Carrillo from PCH and then back up was definitely interesting, to say the least, if not acrobatics-worthy. The water seemed slightly dirtier than at Countyline and there was a ton of kelp in the water (another sign of pollution). The waves were large and ill-formed, and ill-distributed, and after about an hour and a half of getting incrementally more seasick, I was tossed to the rocky shore and decided to call it quits.

As I was walking out of the water I noticed some boys squealing over a patch of sand ... and they introduced me to the white sand crabs, which can grow as large as an egg, but are very cute, squirmy, and ticklish when they are wriggling around in your hand. They are definitely cute but they also sort of gross me out.

On Sunday, I ran at Zuma - this time with the tide low, I didn't have to feel like I was running along on an Indy 500 slanted racetrack. A surf school was holding a class that was crowded with screaming kids. Again, I parked at the wrong lifeguard station - #13. It was a long walk back, but I did half of it barefoot, enjoying the cool water and the soft sand.

Later in the afternoon, I test drove a manual 2001 Prelude because my car's fucked up, but my feet are too short to reach the clutch unless I push the seat all the way forward, which is impractical. But I was extremely proud of myself for being able to drive it in the first place - and put it in reverse, three-point-turns, the whole deal. I only stalled out 3 times. Not bad for someone who's never owned a stick.

I also swung by the guitar store and ended up having a blast playing all the instruments, banging around on the drums, and ripping it up on the electrics on the humungous Crate amp. People were talking to me and I couldn't hear what they were saying so I just kept on playing. Even though I only came in for wooden acoustic stand, I left with some picks and my favorite medium light DR strings and ... a Fishman passive pickup! With my employee discount it ended up being a steal. It didn't hurt that the checkout counter guy was trying to impress me.

Of course, with my luck, I got rear ended at Fountain and La Brea after leaving the store, while stopped at a red light by an unsavory-looking gangster-type driving a gangster-type lowered old model Lincoln. Fear from previous run-ins with gangster types almost kept me from getting out of my vehicle but I decided I ought to see how much damage there was. Fortunately, he was pleasant and even tried to flirt with me. Thankfully, he gave me his insurance information and agreed with me that my bumper was cracked and buckled and needed replacing.

At this point, I almost threw in the towel and called it quits on the evening, but I decided to make it a good one. N from Pasadena called me to let me know her crew was headed to Malediction Society at the Monte Cristo. Undeterred by the rain (this just means driving in 2nd or 3rd gear the whole way), I stopped home to change into my corset, black velvet coat, satin gloves, and boots and proceeded to Wilshire and Westmoreland, at the edge of Koreatown, with curiosity and caution.

I was not disappointed at all. The music was a mesmerizing blend of industrial, trance, dancehall, and Goth. I loved it. The vibe was peaceful, warm, strangely "happy." Everyone was dressed to the nines in corsets, long black coats, tall boots, lace, ruffles, fake leather and chains. It was like coming home. Before long, I was dancing away happily, oblivious to all but the music and the other moving shapes in my midst.