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Actually, I'm not sure that "institution" is the right word. But anyway...

Marc Jacobs, the Walking Man


For nearly 30 years Dr. Marc Jacobs, known locally as The Walking Man, could be seen at any time of day or night, rapidly walking along the streets of Silver Lake. Always wearing the same denim shorts and sneakers, shirtless and deeply tanned, he strode purposefully at an energetic clip, gaze always focused on the folded newspaper he was reading as he walked. Few people knew anything about him, but he was one of the fixtures of my neighborhood, an unchanging symbol of the idiosyncratic, freewheeling feeling of our little corner of L.A.

He passed away last night, quite a shock to those of us who'd grown so accustomed to seeing him trucking along. I used to see him whenever I walked from my house to the nearby Trader Joe's; it seemed no matter what time I made that trip, he'd be there somewhere along the way. I always wanted to say hi, but he was inevitably so engrossed in his reading that it seemed like an imposition, and indeed he gave off waves of "don't bother me" vibes, so I never did. But it was somehow comforting to know he was always around, pacing the streets like some engine of energy.

A memorial walk is planned for this Sunday, traversing the 10-mile route he routinely walked. I'm not able to do walks like that these days, but I'm certainly going to join up with them for the part that's near my house.

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Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town.

-- Ask the Dust


Tomorrow at 11 a.m., John Fante will be honored by his adopted hometown with the naming of the corner of 5th and Grand downtown as "John Fante Square". I'll be going down to see the ceremony.

It was in 1985 that I first heard Fante's immortal words of love for my city, when I tuned in to Mike Hodel's Hour 25 and heard Harlan Ellison read an excerpt from Ask the Dust. I fell in love instantly and went out the next day to find the book. It was everything the reading of those few pages promised - dreamy, down-to-earth, dry, observant, impassioned, hopeful, resigned. Best of all, it was a voice that knew L.A. I was too young to experience it the way Fante did in the 30's, but a little of that "sad flower in the sand" still remained. Many of those buildings were still there downtown when I was a child - Grand Central Market still bustled, the little Italian grocery store and the Million Dollar Theater and Clifton's and best of all, the Angel's Flight Trolley. He put into words what I felt about Los Angeles, and still do, better than anyone else I've ever read. After years of hearing my city be put down and eyerolled at, I'd found someone who articulated the reasons I've always loved the place where I grew up.

So I'll be there to see Fante honored, you better believe it. It'll be a pleasure to see him finally get his due from the town he loved so much.

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So, who around here has heard about this:


A Long-Expected Party - A Tolkien gathering to celebrate The Birthday in 2008


Being so intrigued by this, I went ahead and made reservations, as they're filling up. It sounds like a lovely location, and three days in a beautiful setting with other Tolkien fans sounds like an ideal getaway to me.

The link goes to the gathering's website. Have any of you heard of this and/or are planning to go? I got wind of it over at TORn, and since it's been 25 years since I traveled for a fan gathering, I thought what the hell. Since it's 30 days before I have to send them any money, I covered myself by registering and can now put out feelers to see who's going and who isn't.

So...thoughts?

Everything Is Illuminated

Wow. WOW. O_o

Q&A after. Eee.

Meet and greet in the lobby. Ahahahha!!


Spike is here and we're having discourse. Very heated and animated discourse.


More later.


O_o

...though not a completely unfamiliar one.

I had told shadowfax8 that I would do a write-up on ORC for her website. My intentions were quite honest about it, as I thought I'd have a great deal to write about. And of course, I expected to go on at length here in my LJ about it, as well.

But when I got home from the weekend, I found myself reluctant to talk on it at all, apart from an occasional comment in someone else's journal. Everything about the weekend that wasn't personal (the stage appearances, the setup of the place, the signings, etc.) has already been described at great length by others, and everything that is personal, well... I find I don't want to talk about.

I don't want to speak in public about how I felt watching Billy strut his stuff, or listening to Dom's voice as he snarked and ruminated. I don't want to talk about how it felt to put my head on Sean's shoulder for my photo op, or what it was like to look into Elijah's eyes, even if for only a moment. I don't want to go into detail about meeting all the lovely people that I met, or what it was like to fall in so quickly with kindred souls I'd never seen before, or how much I miss being touched and held and hugged so much. Or how it felt to see others crying and help them through it, and cry myself and be helped through it, and all of us understanding just exactly why.

Part of me feels guilty and sad and like my usual flaky unreliable self, because I promised, and one should at least try to keep one's promises. And that if I don't write about all this, it'll eventually fade away like an old photograph, and all those memories will cease to exist, and then will they ever have existed at all? (The persistence of memory and the impermanence of time, always in counterpoint and opposition to each other.)

But another part of me feels those things are somehow delicate and sacred, that the whole experience was too deep and large to cram into words. That if I try, I'll diminish it, take the shine off it, drag it down to something that I'll read years from now and not remember why it all mattered so much, wonder how any of it could make me feel so intensely or care so deeply. That part of me feels these memories will die if I do that, will become small somehow. That what they're meant for is to sink into me as another layer of my life, like the rings that grow up and make a tree. Those rings cannot become strong wood, the flesh of the tree, if they're exposed to the light. They have to grow secretly, under the cover of rough bark, in order to sustain the life within.

So I guess all this is by way of saying that I won't be writing about ORC, I don't think. At least, I don't expect so, though one never knows. But it just doesn't feel right. I find no impetus in my fingers to make the words. So I'm sorry if I've disappointed anyone. I didn't mean to, honestly.

*sigh*

Quick post before I hop in the shower and run off to Pasadena.

GREAT day yesterday! Met tons of people and had great fun. Looking forward to everything today. Seeing Dom again will be fun, but really I'm in this for the hanging out, and that has been WONDERFUL. You're all terribly cool people.

Off to the craziness! Yay!

Hugs to everyone...