I went down to the downtown LA arts walk last night with this massive group of LA couchsurfers. It’s totally awesome–all of downtown gets completely opened up and turned into art galleries one night every month and thousands of crazy art types descend on the city, the city lights up and there’s music in the streets. Afterwards, we went to go see West Indian Girl play at the Bordello–it was pretty awesome space-pop, but what really made it was the Mariqueen Maandig, the girl lead singer. MAN, she can sing! She’s intense, too. It’s like she’s perpetually posing for an epic rock shot and actually pulling it off. There was a point when her hair was covering her face and she was just wailing into a megaphone when I found myself wishing I either had a camera or the ability to command norse hunting falcons with my mind.

Now that we’re settled in Silverlake, we’re looking for warehouses again. I found this amazing warehouse near chinatown, but even hearing about it was an exciting process. There’s a ton of warehouses in that area, but I didn’t see any ‘for rent’ signs, so I took a couple hours one morning and went biking around, giving people my ‘inventor’ shtick and asking if there was a couple thousand square feet of space I could sublet. It turns out that this is where all the clothes in LA are produced, and I walked into a lot of sweatshops (maybe that’s the wrong word, but I’m not sure what else to call a huge warehouse packed with people sewing and ironing clothes). I talked with a lot of workers and everyone seemed to know someone who had a building in the area. After a bit of pinballing around, I heard about this mondo two-story warehouse that’s just starting up. It’s also next to acres and acres of park, real close to the Chinatown metro stop and downtown, and its in this cool creative area with lots of artist lofts on the nearby blocks. My only problem now is tracking down the owner–I went by the warehouse on a couple different days and knocked/hollered at the door, but there was no one there, so I googled one of the company names from a sign near the warehouse and emailed asking for the owner’s contact info. It’s kind of ridiculous that it’s such a long shot, but I’ve got hope, and it’s such a cool spot that I’m willing to do a bit of extra work to find space.

We’re also looking at a couple other warehouses in Chinatown and downtown LA that look like they’re also pretty cool. Hopefully we’ll be in a warehouse by the end of the month, and it’s made easier this time by n-e-r-v-o-u-s taking off like a rocket and making money hand over fist (well, finger over finger at least), so we’re not completely scrabbling to get the money to put the space together.

That’s not even a small percentage of the news, but I gotta go lasercut some more stuff. And listen to Dan Bern.

We pulled into Rome
With blood in our eyes
After days of travelin'
Months of lies
Taking our various
Turns at the wheel
Taking booze
And pot and cigarettes
Anything not to feel
No one had slept
No one had eaten
Our bodies were bad
Our spirits were beaten
Together we dragged
All of us down
As we staggered through Rome
Blaming the town
Blaming the students
For worship of others
Blaming the cops
And blaming their brothers
And never quite looking
 

Ourselves in the heart
And minute by minute
Growing further apart

Julia, Julia
Where have you gone?
Why have you vanished
Off of my lawn?
Julia, Julia
Where is your truck?
Where have you driven
With all of my luck?

But even old bull fighters,
Their grave stones in sight,
Must search 'till they unearth
One last bull to fight
And so it was with us,
So near to the end
One last story to tell
One last hill to defend
One glance to avoid
One guitar to strum
One untruth to be told
One last song to be sung
And you, the most brilliant,
Most driven, most keen,
Jewel of a bastard
I ever have seen
And you and your turn
A good bitch of the nile
So real to the end
Nothing left to defile
And me in the middle,
Along for the ride,
The unwilling distraction
From familiocide
And knowing our weaknesses
No one refrained,
From picking
And prodding
'Till nothing remained

Julia, Julia
Where have you gone?
Why have you vanished
Off of my lawn?
Julia, Julia
Where is your truck?
Where have you driven
With all of my luck?

And now in this kitchen
Miles from home
Miles from anything
Miles from Rome
Rome was a bust
Rome was a scream
Rome was the final
Rapid eye movement
To this dream
We scattered like leaves
Like pieces of dust
Warriors watching
Their swords and shields rust
And now as we descend
To couches and clocks
To closets and appointments
Let us drink to the rocks
Let us drink to the sand
To the winds which have blowed us
Let us drink to the rivers
Let us drink to the road

And if you travel this far
From either conscience or greed
Have one piece of advice
That I think you should heed
If ever your travels
Take you this far from home
Consult your map carefully
Stear clear of Rome

Julia, Julia
Where have you gone?
Why have you vanished
Off of my lawn?
Julia, Julia
Where is your truck?
Where have you driven
With all of my luck?

Blowing my nose is wonderful.  Until recently, I thought of blowing my nose as something to do only when it ran or was stuffy.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that constantly clearing my nose clears my head and makes my voice less nasal and flat.  Also, it feels great!  Now, I blow my nose every day, sometimes more!  hooray!

So, I challenged Sloan to a stamp-off: one week to make a rubber stamp and mail it to the other contestant. I’d never made a stamp before, but clearly it was time to learn. Making the stamp itself only took a little while, but I really wanted to come up with something cute, yet tragic. So, after years of extensive research, here is the cutest, tragic-est thing ever: