I have a racist conversation
 I was touring this high-end (for me, anyway) apartment complex near a golf course and had the following keyword-laden conversation with the rental agent. I mentioned I lived in Glendale.
"I grew up here and Glendale used to be a lot different," she said.
"Oh yeah?"
"A certain population moved in. Really inconsiderate drivers," she said, not mentioning any names. "They wear a lot of cologne."
She said "cologne" and "drivers" with such vehemence that I'm sure a passing Amnesty International observer would have deemed the terms hate speech on the spot.
I'm not going to move there, but not because of that exchange. It's just that, before I leave Los Angeles, I want to live somewhere without beige carpeting.
She asked me what I did for a living and I told her I was the drummer for System of a Down.
"What?"
"Just kidding."Labels: glendale, los angeles, pop
Downtown in the rain
 It rained all day today. I walked about a quarter mile from a parking lot, and I wondered what the sensation was.
"Oh," I remembered, a memory stirring."It's rain."
Rain makes everyone in Los Angeles drive like they're from Glendale.
Previously: Rainy season, pt. ILabels: glendale, los angeles
Circle of life
 There has been a dead bird on the neighbor's roof for about a month, and today the neighbor's cats got up there. Where I live, the neighbors who own outdoor cats don't neuter them, but instead let them run free. Then, my downstairs neighbor will surreptitiously abduct the outdoor cats and pay to have them neutered. Ian has been named Captain Save-A-Cat for his neutering exploits.
Here a father and child pick at the dead bird. Soon these cats, too, will die, and their corpses will lie in state on this very roof. The neighbors will replace them with other cats, dimly wondering what has become of their predecessors.
(I take these photos with a telescopic lens from my wheelchair.)Labels: found, glendale
Hard questions for Greenpeace
 I was accosted by a Greenpeace activist on Vermont Ave. in Los Feliz today and asked him to face some inconvenient truths.
"Did you know that there are only 950 polar bears left?" he asked. "We are hoping to get them on the waiting list for the endangered species list."
Being on the endangered species list allows animals certain privileges, including discounts on PepsiCo products, such as Pizza Hut.
The number that gets an animal on the endangered species list is different per animal.
"If you had, say, 1,000 ants left," he said, "that would be really endangered. But 950 polar bears is getting there."
I said I didn't know polar bears were so rare, what with their numerous endorsement appearances.
"You sure you don't have some ambitious canvassers going up to the ice shelf to knock a couple of them off, you know, to get them on the list?" I probed. "To, you know, sacrifice a few for the good of the whole?"
"You're being flippant," he said. "But we will actually send people up to spray a non-toxic green stripe on baby harp seals so that no one wants to take their coats. Do you think anyone would buy an ermine coat with a green stripe on it?"
"Have you done any studies about how attractive seals with defacing paint on their coats are to each other?" I asked. "What are the chances of reproduction if a seal looks like ass? I wouldn't get it on with a striper."
"I think they use pheromones and musk in mating," he said.
That's interesting. In Glendale they use Drakkar Noir (and lots of it).
See also: GreenpeaceLabels: activism, glendale, interview, los angeles
 I currently reside in Glendale, CA. If you are cruising down the street and find a WiFi network called "Hate This Place", that's mine.
It's not that I don't like the parks, freeway access, and easy driving to my office in downtown L.A., but behind the well-manicured lawns and the idyllic suburban tableau of families strolling on a summer night, live some neighbors who make my life more interesting than it should be.
Take young Kevin Cunningham, a 22-year-old man who lives down the street. Early this morning, probably because Independence Day had passed and he thought it was no longer acceptable to shoot fireworks out in the middle of the road, Cunningham is alleged to have shot his remaining wad of fireworks in his house. This destroyed his apartment and damaged three others.
I feel like I should have had neighbors like these in my early 20's while I lived in student ghettos in Brighton and Allston, MA. But not one BC, BU, or slumming Harvard student shot bottle rockets in his own home.
While I do have exemplary neighbors, and while I no longer have to worry about Eastern European Bleeding Kansas parking since I cleaned out my garage, I still look forward to putting Glendale behind me. I'm told that this is all because my french doors face a cemetery.
At least Armo continues to inspire folk art.
Previously: Knowing my neighbors; The Triumph of Death
See also: Man Booked for Arson After Fireworks-Sparked Apartment BlazeLabels: glendale, los angeles
Art-mo
My neighbor (and an entry on this site) has inspired two pieces of exciting design by a couple of L.A.'s most visionary artists.
Mike Valdez has created "I Have 150 Guns", a(n) universal lament that begs the question: "Why can't I have more guns?"
From the artist:
Yesterday we were driving by and we said, "Oh my God! That's Armo!" Previously, we'd thought the Spirit of Art had conjured him. Jesse Hammer created the arcade game "Armo And Dangerous". Players of this first person shooter can eventually collect 150 guns, but start by spitting sunflower seeds at enemies.
From the artist:
The table version will convert into a backgammon board. Previously: Armo and dangerousLabels: glendale
 I will avoid any judgment and just present facts.
This is my neighbor, Armo. He and his wife, Lucyk, live in a house identical to mine next door.
Self-inscribed in the cement on the walkway in front of and behind his house is the word: ARMO.
According to Wikipedia: Armo (U.S. & Australia) person of Armenian origin.
I have often wondered, based on this, if I should not call myself "Irish".
When he is outside, which is often, he will supervise the neighbors' parking. He will also scrutinize outsiders.
This, we believe, has resulted in a safer, more annoying neighborhood, depending on the scrutinee.
His English, after 18 years in the United States, is mostly non-existent. I do not believe he speaks Spanish.
His wife unfailingly tucks ACI's shirt into her (ACI's) pants. "Too cold," she says.
There are a lot of things they do that I believe are intrusive of privacy. If they spoke English, I would say, "Cut that shit out". I believe Armo and Lucyk display a similar non-acceptance of our customs. One day I will learn Armenian so that I can understand what they are saying about me in front of me.
Last year around this time Lucyk asked for my Halloween pumpkin. From this she made jellied pumpkin candy and gave us a jar of it. It was horrible.
Armo often gives us apples and pomegranates. They are excellent.
Lucyk once advised me to move ACI's room from the back of the house to the middle of the house. "Maybe someone break in steal your baby."
When ACI walks by their house, Armo calls out, "Give me kiss." Her face smells dizzyingly of his cologne affterward.
Two days ago he gave her a left sneaker and a right sneaker in individual bags.
From a pallet in their garage, Lucyk once produced an industrial strength box of maxi-pads to give to TAARG, which the latter tried in vain to refuse. There appeared to be several dozen more boxes in there.
A while ago I tried to joke with him. "No park car there," he said as I was parking. "Other people hit."
"Other people hit, I shoot in head," I replied.
"I have 150 guns," he said.
I am often seen leaving the house with a camera. The other day I got in my car and was checking messages on my phone when Armo tapped on the window.
"You take picture of me with car?" he asked. "I send to Armenia."
My theories on why and how Armo has a Hummer 3 are many, but I asked him to park his car in a certain way so I could get a picture of him in front of it. I took several pictures of him, and of the car. I am a professional.
Then he went into his house and re-emerged with a Mauser pistol. I took several pictures, including the one above.
My feelings about Armo and Lucyk are complicated. When I leave, I will miss them. At the same time, it will be partially because of them.
Previously: Knowing my neighbors; Horrors; Jaws begins; Costco 1975; Tearful goddamn reunion; My criminal neighbor; Mano penolo
See also: Armenian baby names, t-shirt versionLabels: glendale
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links below may, and often do, contain objectionable material. Go ahead.
Wreck your life.
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I was touring this high-end (for me, anyway) apartment complex near a golf course and had the following keyword-laden conversation with the rental agent. I mentioned I lived in Glendale.
