August 22nd 1993... 13 years later...

Thirteen years ago, to the day, more or less I arrived in Los Angeles. I had flown from Gatwick airport in London, via St. Louis on the now defunct TWA airline (once owned by Howard Hughes). It was a horrifically long flight, and the four hour stop-over was dire... John Rutter (pictured above) picked me up from LAX in a small rental car. I remember feeling very hot and tired when I got off the plane... John drove me to The Rainbow Grill on Sunset (pictured below), where he regailed me with rock 'n' roll tales of Axl Rose, and we drank tequila.


I felt strangely thrilled at the time. I'd escaped London. I had the promise of a fabulous job, and when you kicked around with John you ended up kicking around with pretty girls. John was always genial and self-depricating. I felt good being around him. But at the end of a very long evening after talking-things-up and making plans, John drove me to the top of Bel Air. We parked and looked out across the twinkling vista of Los Angeles at night... In the immortal words of Tony Montana, John said "all this could be yours..." What a strange and eg-maniacal moment. Was really that drunk and tired, or had I just become intoxicated with John's bullshit..? Maybe a mixture of all three. Still, thirteen years later 'all of that' was NOT MINE - and that's okay. I'm not sure that I would want 'ALL OF THAT' anyway.

Los Angeles remains the most vacuous and maddening of places. Shallow? Yes. Infuriating? Absolutely. A cultural desert? Most likely. Still. thirteen years later, I realize that it's an okay place to call home. I'm healthier than I've been in years. And, most importantly without being in Los Angeles - I wouldn't have met Margie. She has stuck with me through thick and thin. She can also be maddenning - but, at the same time is a constant inspiration to me. On August 22nd, 2006 - Margie and I went to Zankou Chicken. Not very fancy after 13 years, I know... Still, I remember thinking that my life is pretty good, and I love Margie very much...

For the rest of you who stuck by me in LA - I treasure and value your friendship... Even John - I hope I can find where he is incarcerated and try to visit him... What can I say of thirteen years? It slipped by in the blink of an eye...

Remembering David Bergstein

I first met David Bergstein in 1993 in John Rutter's rented house on Laurel Terrace Drive. I had only been in Los Angeles 72 hours at that point. It is now thirteen years later -almost to the day - John is in jail and David is currently producing the new Sidney Lumet movie that stars Philip Seymour Hoffman. I last saw David at some point in March, and in many respects he has never changed. He is consistantly the most bizarre, humorous and engaging individual, while at the same time completely maddening. He will never return phonecalls for months, then out of the blue call me up on the phone. He has been my harshest critic, yet at the same time my biggest supporter - and in some cases, he has been my patron and benefactor. David is an expert in causing havoc. He is adept at making anything seem possible, yet similarly exists outside the realm of possibility. He is generous. He is also cheap. He is ruthless. He is also kind, at the most unexpected moments... I'm sure he is causing havoc in the film business, as we speak. Still, in a world filled with boring bankers, silk-suited accountants, and young execs who wish they were Ari Gold - David is a maverick, a visionary, and a pool hall hustler - all in the same breath... If he were a character in a movie, he might be indescribable. As a character from my life, he remains both a rallying point and a cautionary tale... He is pictured here wearing at hardhat at the groundbreaking of Le Dome restaurant which he owned briefly. I will leave the Village People wise-cracks out of this story - instead I'll keep the fond memory of when he drove my parents to the Costa Mesa mall, or when he came to Margie's suprise birthday party and handed out Cuban cigars... David is splendid, remarkable and ultimately impossible to fathom... I'm not sure if he's a poor man in a very rich man's life, or a rich man living for the hustle and wishing he was still poor... I don't think he was ever in it for the money. I'd like to think he was in it for the thrill... Of course I can't be certain... But now and then I chuckle, and hope David is still fighting the good fight...

Phil Dirtbox rides again...

I couldn't resist posting this photograph of the legendary Phil Dirtbox - resplendant in a rather unsual, and vaguely Mr. Pickwick-like hat. Apparently this snap was taken at the 2005 Clerkenwell Literary festival. I imagine Phil was performing poetry, as he has a microphone in his hand... Strangely enough I spoke to Phil on Wil Blanchard's cell-phone about 6 months ago. That would be the first time I spoke to Phil in a decade. Oftentimes between then and now Michael Holden would regale me with Phil Dirtbox stories... Anyway - I realize how hum-drum my world is without the likes of Phil on the horizon each week. Phil introduced me to the likes of The Final Program, and the finer points of pub Karaoke... So, here from Los Angeles Phil Dirtbox - we salute you!