What's all the Cacophony?

The Anti-Reeding Prohtest

I found a stash of old posts touting events I ran in Los Angeles under the auspices of the dead-but-not-gone Cacophony Society in 2008-2009.

From the "official" source: "The Cacophony Society is a randomly gathered network of individuals united in the pursuit of experiences beyond the pale of mainstream society through subversion, pranks, art, fringe explorations and meaningless madness. You may already be a member!"

The CS had been unofficially disbanded years before, but a small group of us decided to ignore that particular detail. I personally never heard a peep of neither support nor disgust from old LA Caco members, but sometimes I got the feeling we were those damned whippersnappers on the old man's lawn. It was probably more fun that way.

These events spanned from the well-attended to the cheese stands alone. Their actual success is of limited importance; what's important is that they happened! Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself. Here they are, complete with high-class fliers created in MS Paint.

Read-Aloud-Along!

We came. We saw. We literated.

Come and join us Sunday, April 13 at the Barnes & Noble at The Grove in Los Angeles as we reinvent the art of sharing. The public wants to consume culture, and we aim to feed it to ‘em! Here’s the story (no pun intended):

At 1pm we’ll wander casually into B&N, and pick out a book of our own choosing – the Bible, bodice-rippers, C++ programming, French poetry, whatever floats one’s boat. At 1:10, the public readings shall begin, as we all walk the store sharing aloud passages from our chosen books. The reading shall continue until 1:25, or until security throws us out.

EXTRA CREDIT! Participants are encouraged to create at least three bookmarks bearing a special message to consumers to place into random books around the store before the reading begins. Easily done while browsing for your favorite title to titillate the public with!

Please join us afterwards at the Buzz coffee shop 7623 Beverly Blvd, LA 90036 (at the corners of Beverly Blvd and The Grove Dr.).

GETTING THERE:

Parking at The Grove is terrible and costs $$. By public transport, you can take the Metro to the Hollywood and Highland station, then hop on the 217 bus at the northwest corner of Hollywood and Highland Blvds (westbound). Get off at Fairfax and 3th St. The Grove is behind the Farmer’s Market. Or you can find your own route at the handy Los Angeles Metro Authority site: www.metro.net/default.asp

Any questions? Contact Reecy via Tribe or email.

The Anti-Reeding Prohtest

2 balunce owt th blatuntlee pro-literrate stanse uf th Cuhcawfunny Sowsiyeti’s resent “Read-Aloud-Along”, plees joyn us in frunt uf th Loss Angeles Centrul Libary on Saturday, May 17, n show th publik how u reely fell. Bulhorns n anti-reedin siyns n/or pamflets, mispelled or – SCREW WURDS! – in drarwings, r encuraged.

Wher:

630 W. 5th Street

Los Angeles, CA 90071

(S Grand Ave side, 2 blocs frum th Pershing Square metro stopp on th

Wred Line)

"Can I give you a pamphlet not to read?"

Wen:

4pm Satourday, May 17 2008

Afterwurds we will conveen at Bar 107, locatted at 107 W 4th St (crner

of 4th and Main).

Emale Reesee if u havve anee qwestuns.

I'm sure this next one wasn't the first event of its kind, but my ego feels compelled to note that this was years before the "Occupy" movement.

Los Angeles CEOs (beg) for CHANGE!

CEOs For Change

Sunday, 16 November 2008, 1:30pm

Hollywood

CEOs, COOs, high-level business executives, lend me your ears!

In these tough economic times, we hear nothing but blah-blah-blah “Main Street” this, blah-blah-blah, “middle class” that. But what about us, the executives of America? Do we not bleed blue blood?! Do we not require caviar and prompt tee-off times?! These Rolexes and BMWs DO NOT pay for themselves, as I’m sure your CPA has already informed you.

If you’re worried your golden parachute may fail to fully deploy, please join us in Hollywood at 1:30pm on Sunday, November 16 wearing your business best. We will convene at Starbucks in the Hollywood and Highland complex, where we shall drink double-decaf-extra-dry cappuccinos and speak loudly to our assistants over our Blueberries. At 1:45, we shall take to Hollywood Blvd with signs and engraved silver alms cups to demand pocket change from the gullible working class citizens that save up all year to take their families on vacation to Los Angeles. Seriously, those suckers kill me. Your secretaries, trophy wives and boy toys are encouraged to come along and fetch refills for us.

My last hurrah:

The Red Line Pub Crawl

In their infinite wisdom, the Los Angeles MTA has decided to keep the Red Line running until 3am on the weekends until the end of the year. We, the Party People of Los Angeles, will celebrate this sage decision while showing our support for public transportation AND the local economy on the day after Thanksgiving. Because we all know the best way to give thanks is by getting plowed.

Here’s the deal:

We will meet at the Traxx bar at Union Station at 8pm (near the front entrance), to swill cocktails and stare upward in amazement at the beautiful Art Deco ceilings. Around 9pm we shall get ourselves hence to the Metro. Reecy recommends buying a day pass for $5 beforehand. A flask is recommended for subtle on-board consumption.

The full details of stop number two will be posted soon.

Our evening will conclude (or just really get started) on the Cahuenga strip, that bastion of shitty, shitty parking, and home to such fabulous bars as rock’n’roll favorites Tiny’s KO and the Burgundy Room, the electro stylings of the Beauty Bar and the perpetual Dia de los Muertos that is the Velvet Margarita.

When we’ve all been thrown out of Hollywood’s finest watering holes at 2am, we shall bask in the joy that is Not Driving One’s Drunk Ass Home as we return to the Hollywood and Vine metro stop. Bonus points for walking to a diner near your stop for some late-night chow.

UPDATE!

Our second stop of the night will be the Wilshire/Western station, where our excursion shall lead us to Frank and Hanks, and the amazing LED kitsch that is Beertown for our Post-Thanksgiving pleasure.

In other news, the managers at Beauty Bar and The Burgundy Room on Cahuenga have agreed to hook our pub crawl up with some drink specials. $2 Beauty Bar shots and a free shot with any drink at the Burgundy. Hooray!

See you tonight at the Traxx bar at Union Station, 8pm!

Feelin' San Franfrisky

Orin & Lynae

My recent trip to San Francisco was so good I had a hard time condensing it into one post.

Photo-bombing bridge. Photo by Orin Zebest

In past trips to SF I've stayed at the Chez Poulet, a warehouse converted into a community performance space by showman, activist and bullshit impresario Chicken John in the Latino/hipster Mission district. He's been something of a mentor to me in my journey through the weird, and kind enough to offer up his teardrop trailer nested in a loft above the stage at the warehouse when I've been in town. When I first staying there years ago Chez Poulet was also inhabited by a number of artists, some of whom are still dear friends to this day, but recently Chicken has cycled out the artists to renovate the place. I crashed there when I visited this January, but it was cold and lonely in that big drafty warehouse, so I was very pleased that my bonkers friends Orin and Lynae volunteered to host me on this trip. Lynae actually orchestrated my visit, really.

Most Likely to Cause an Argument

I first met these crazy kids at Camp Tipsy -- where we build boats out of rubbish and dreams – in the summer of 2012. I showed up on Monday to help set up for the weekend event and Orin was the only other person on-site apart from Chicken, who was running back and forth from SF to our lakeside location somewhere outside of Sacramento. This Orin guy, he was *weird*, and that's saying something coming from me. But I'm a social gal, and he seemed harmless enough, so I strung my camping hammock up near Orin's tent and we spent the next few days sorting through all manner of dumpster-dived materials. It was a bonding experience, and by Thursday Orin and I commandeered a leaky old dingy from the pile, flipped it upside-down, filled it with empty milk cartons and screwed plastic seats to the top. (“The Crafty Oarsman” was a delightfully ineffectual vessel.) Orin's a pretty laid-back guy, and apparently I spent a fair amount of time shouting at him during this process. After observing our construction antics from the shore, our weekend neighbors made up an award just for us: “Boat Most Likely to Cause an Argument.”

Lynae, with her purple hair and “adora-troll” ways, came along later that weekend, but I didn't really get to know her until my last trip to SF. I was going through a pretty tough time. She and Orin (among others) were instrumental in my sanity maintenance.

No, we always dress like this.

On my first full day in SF this time around – the day before Halloween – we piled into their pickup truck and cruised around town. When we showed up for a by-donationwalking tour of Chinatown the retiree guide asked us if we were gearing up for “the holiday”. Nope, we informed him, we always dress like this. Afterwards they took me where the buffalo roam in Golden Gate Park, got photo-bombed by some famous bridge outside the Legion of Honor museum, ate Japanese ice cream crepes, visited an aquarium shop run by the mafia and saw the Yoda fountain at the Industrial Lights and Magic campus.

Crimebo & Lynae

After a year in the Montana wilderness I was ready to get my Halloween freak on San Francisco style. When I found out that our Halloween plans were to help some friends out with their family-friendly block party across the bay in Richmond, I was initially a little disappointed. Upon our arrival my disappointment soon dissipated, and I had a wonderful time manning the face-painting booth with Lynae et al. Richmond is not known as the best of neighborhoods, but there was no trouble at all and the families that attended seemed grateful and excited for the karaoke, ring-toss, balloon animals by L.A.'s Crimebo the Clown, Lego Jeep, temporary tattoo booth and prizes galore. It was great to be a part of the freaky cavalcade that came out from SF to put this on. It's never every day you get to see Sasquatch, Hera, Dracula and
a giant chicken belt out 80s classics. The afterparty was terrific too – it was a bunch of the cool kids from SF that I'd have wanted to hang with, except there was no “doof-doof” music to shout over. I finally donned my “GroucHo Marx” costume and somehow managed not to get any greasepaint in the hot tub. Selah.

Christopher rocks the accordion

I feel like I crammed a month of experience into a week on this visit. Along the way I also got a personal accordion performance in Oakland, shopped for skis with Chicken John, picnicked in Dolores Park, got repeatedly creeped out by life-like sculptures lurking in alleyways, was complimented in the Tenderloin, ate plenty of super-delicious international food and took a ride in the TARDIS while in a hypnotic trance. 

Could it really be that good all the time if I lived there?

The Six Stages of Lasagna

When I'm not on the road, occasionally I like to fix up some fancy bachelor-style meals. These mainly consist of breakfast five ways and dishes that involve noodles and plenty of leftovers. One of my favorite things to cook up is my mother's lasagna recipe, with cottage cheese instead of ricotta and extra sauce for sopping up with garlic bread. It's so hearty that meat is not required – I've tried and with 3 lbs of cheese I've found it's not worth the extra effort or cost.

I love lasagna. It's a large dish with plenty of leftovers, and as a “single” woman, making it is like summoning a genie in a fairy tale. Be careful what you wish for, Pontiff.

Leftovers: a double-edged sword.

Day One: “Oooooooh, fresh lasagna hot out of the oven! I'll have TWO helpings, please!”

Day Two: “Oh my goodness gracious me, there are lasagna leftovers for dinner, how exciting!”

Day Three: “Well, I guess I better eat some of that lasagna.”

Day Four: “Oh, god. That lasagna really needs to get eaten.”

Day Five: “Aw crap, lasagna again?”

Day Six “NO MORE!! NO MORE!!! PLEASE NO MORE!!!”

And then I either force myself to finish it or fob it off on a friend. I guess that's what I get for not inviting more people over for dinner on L-Day.