blah blah blog

2 Turkeys, A Ham, A Salmon & All The Fixins

Thank God For Dishwashers...
And friends who can cook.

Views From An Art Show

But I I can't show you pictures, because I didn't take any - of the skinny, naked (except for undies) painted go-go dancers; the near naked, painted fat guy; the guy laying on the floor with a sign in front of him reading: "Stand On This Body"; the Dj's playing endless 80's new wave when it was clearly a rock and roll appreciating crowd; the bad live rock band; the girl with the 24 inch-high mohawk and much, much more along those lines.

But I can tell you we had a very amusing time, watching the art being studied bottle cap by bottle cap was fun and we couldn't stop talking about how we'd do the event differently if we did it. But kudos go out to the planner who does it at all.

Art Show November 17!!

This is my first Liquid City involvement so I look forward to it being fantastic. The (hopefully) great thing about it is - it's at BOARDNER'S! A landmark in Hollywood watering holes. See you there if you're in town! And spread the word.

Post Paws

If only there was champagne at the PAWS/LA auction gala! I have to admit, though I love a good rock show at the Palladium, it didn't suit the charity event. Looking back on the previous events held at the Music Box Theater, it really wasn't as cramped as it may have appeared at the time. It provided comradery and interaction, whereas, the Palladium was cavernous and impersonal.

I feel bad saying it, but it just doesn't seem as wonderful as it once was. Maybe there are just too many causes to support these days. Two years ago there were goody bags filled with wonderful dog stuff and now there are old magazines offered at the door and some small bags of treat samples. Where there once was free vodka flowing and human treats passed, there is now wine and a table of cheeses and a table of sweets. Where once there was a presence of celebrity, this time I never even saw the supposed hostess, Jillian Barberie.

There were numerous bargains to be had, but it seemed that there was very little frenzy to get your hands on some serious art for a fraction of what it would cost you anywhere else! The only frenzy that I witnessed was over a Shag piece - there was one piece in the live auction and one in the silent. The gals that won the live auction were fighting another couple over the one in the silent auction, going back and forth with their pencils as the clock wound down. It was a battle of wills and timing.

Some artwork never got a bid, so I am happy that someone took mine home and there will be some more food bought and delivered by PAWS/LA.

In"cred"ulous

I woke up this morning thinking, for some reason, about the really crappy movies I worked on in the 80's and thought, damn, I need to look those up on IMDB and find out what some of the people I can barely remember have been doing since then. Love IMDB, have been using it on a daily basis for a good four years now.

A couple of those crappy movies include Munchies and the really incredibly bad horror film that really turned out to be some soft core porn in my opinion, Death Spa.

Even though I have credits on a few movies, I knew I didn't have a page on IMDB - they often don't go too far below-the-line. However, there I am scanning the Death Spa extended credits and read - "Property Master: Noel Murphy". I actually thought to myself in a nano moment, 'Noel Murphy, who the hell was that... wait, I was the prop master, wait, Noel Murphy! That's Me! Dammit! Dumbasses.'

Supporting the Arts & The Animals

Don't forget - PAWS/LA is this Sunday.
And this year for those of you out of the territory, you can scan the art online
and make bids via fax by Saturday, the 12th.

Newest Painting

View "Toluca Bloom" by clicking HERE
(Hopefully you have one of those ginormous screens that will open up the whole thing. My puny iMac just shows half of the painting!)
Actual size is 4 Feet X 6 Feet
Acrylic On Canvas
Soon to be posted at norawood.com

What's That Buzzing?

It was too bad that Val & I couldn't get into the AFI Film Fest screening of Transamerica on Sunday night, but so many other things happened instead... Like practically running face to face into William H. Macy, the producer and husband of the star of said movie. Like seeing a guy impersonating Hunter Thompson with all the accoutrements except for a bottle of liquor. Like seeing a funny Brit movie called The Gigolos. Like indulging in the free Absolut in the cinema lounge, constructed on the 7th floor of the parking lot along with the three other giant party tents. Like seeing the papparazzi fawn over and click and yell at two young nubile actors that were completely unknown to us. Like seeing and thoroughly enjoying the new "Tom Ripley" movie called Ripley Under Ground starring Barry Pepper, Willem Dafoe and a crack-up of a coked-up Alan Cumming.

But oh so disturbing (in a really sarcastic good way) was the conversation we found ourselves in with the Brit "filmmaker". Val & I had just ordered up a couple Absolut/Sodas, scanned the room and discussed finding a spot where we could eavesdrop on some Hollywood schmoozing. We found a space on a couch and then found OURSELVES being eavesdropped upon by the The Englishman next to me. He told us a story about some distant relative who was a minister that taught him it was a good learning experience to listen in on strangers. And within the next minute he offered up that he was a practicing Scientologist. So golly jolly mainstream they are these days thanks to all the celebrity "cred". Valerie questioned him like it was the first time she ever heard of the cult. She's so good at that. I think I said nothing the whole time because what I might have said would've been possibly oh, maybe just a wee bit, taken as cynical. Valerie said I grunted at one point. The funny thing was how much information he gave us - though what I heard was about a thousand words of nothing. He talked of "levels". Valerie asked, "so what level comes after that?" of which he had made an example. Again, a thousand words that at the core was nothing truly forthcoming. It turns out that this guy is an "auditor" which means he tests those downward spiralling people who are committing "transgressions" and who need to "individuate". Valerie interrupted with her big smile and wide eyes. "Um, what is this word "individuate?" Again, I have no idea what the hell his answer was because he might as well have been jumping up and down on Oprah's couch at that moment because to him, EVERYTHING JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND IS SO WONDERFUL and it's the word, it's the word!

What I wanted to ask him was, so okay you don't believe in psychology, but don't you find that "breaking down" a person's "transgressions" in an audit of their personality is oh, a wee bit similar? Okay, so you guys have people hold some kind of can and plug electrodes into them like a lie detector test so the auditors can tell what's going on beyond their transgressions. Are the electrodes where the aliens talk through? And tell me oh happy, kind sir, what "transgression" were you in the middle of, when Scientology hooked you?

But I was afraid if I did, the pod people would come out of the shadows and take me down to the "Celebrity Centre" and introduce me to Tom Cruise. Ah, but I transgress. Damn, cynical me. I'm going to have to work on my individuation.

Where It's At

One of my oldest friends - practically known him since I moved to Los Angeles twenty-something years ago, Jonathan Schmock is showing some of his artwork at the Rose Cafe in Venice. You know the one - just a couple blocks from the beach, 220 Rose Avenue. Thru November 27th in a group show called "Family".

Jon and I traded pieces years ago - I have no idea what I gave him, I hope it wasn't something crappy. I have displayed his triptych of baseball diamond/umpire with "wings"/cardinal (the religous kind) in my home ever since I snagged it after showing it in Saks Fifth Avenue's windows.

Of late, he's been working from vintage family photos, making them completely dreamlike. Truly lovely. Always wishing we could get out of this rat-race together and work in a giant comcrete loft somewhere that's not here.

Speaking of which - I just remembered something that Jonathan and I talked about some seventeen years ago at The Improv. We thought both of us should have been born in a different era and we were pondering when and where it was we'd like to have been. We broke it down. We decided it would be just right to have been in:

Paris in the twenties
Berlin in the thirties
Hollywood in the forties
New York in the fifties
San Francisco in the sixties
London in the seventies
& back to Hollywood in the 80's

Well, we were there after all. I'm sure we would have added "Seattle in the 90's" had we had the same conversation seven years later. Haven't a clue as to where it's at in these aughts.
Nevertheless - Jonathan is makin art and that's where it's at enough for me.

Toluca "Terror"

Halloween in Toluca Lake is off the charts! We took a walk to our favorite Mexican restaurant on Monday in order to stroll the neighborhood (the wealthy side) and feel the holiday buzz. On the way, at about 6PM, it was mellow, like any other neighborhood in the country. We even ran into my friend's kids just after they were spooked by a few older kids popping out of bushes. After dinner, around 8, the entire area was overrun. It looked like Hollywood Boulevard but with kids. We had to walk down the middle of streets to dodge the crowds. But if you live in a ten mile radius, I'd imagine there's no where else to be! It is the home to many entertainment folk after all, with lots of money and imagination and access to special effects. One whole block was taken over by a stage and a stunt truck. When we passed there was a "Wiggles" type act taking place.

We saw at least three houses that had been transformed into haunted houses and were taking small groups in one by one. There were lines down their blocks. The best outdoor scene was a giant house that may or may not have been Mandy Moore's or Kirsten Dunst's (according to our twenty-something neighbors). Added to the graveyard setting with mannequins in "living dead" poses, were live actors lurking the lawn in mummy costumes. But the best was that they were projecting classic horror movies from inside, onto their large stained glass picture window. Frankenstein was playing when we passed. Too cool. And there ain't much to actually call cool these days.

My ex boss's house was pitch dark. It had a sign on the door that said "Not Home - But Happy Halloween Anyway". Spooky.