DEAR ALIZARIN: All in an LA evening: politics, Hollywood shoots, organic coffee, and the hottest man of January 31st

From Sunset and Vine to home took me 20 minutes. Including the Eva drop-off in WeHo. Nonetheless, it took nearly an hour and a half to get there earlier in the evening.

Only in LA.

Why?

It is a toss up between the one block closed for the Anti-Bush Rally or the free concert at Amoeba Music on the next corner. Attributing our traffic woes to the protest definitely eased the vexation of the insanity of driving in LA (exacerbated by the fact that few in LA know what 4-way stop means). It seemed to mostly be a rally to get volunteers to join the upcoming rally in D.C. For some reason, in a city where everyone is locked in their cars locked in traffic jams, the efficacy of such a rally seemed a bit lackluster, a feeling not lessened by the fact that the number of police on either end of the block rivaled that of the protesters. Also, the line for the free concert probably exceeded it, until, like us, many realized that the show had started and we were all to be left out in the cold (ok, not cold, but lovely coolness of the LA evening). Thus, we went to hang out with the rally, energized by a mixture of idealistic students and aged hippies. I listened to the call for people to take action, but felt a bit dismayed that the only action they could inspire the masses with was putting up posters and flying to D.C. I cheered "Down with Bush" for a bit, but then realized that Bush was not listening, nor was anyone who did not already believe it. It was kind of like trying to hug yourself for comfort: rather embarrassing and not at all satisfying. So, here is my poster, courtesy of Grooveva:



After all that rallying, we needed a cup of organic joe. And, true to LA, a block over, we ran into another police barricade for the antithesis of political protest: a Hollywood shoot. Yea.

Finally, we ended the night listening to the hottest man out in LA on January 31st. Maybe it was the velvety scruffiness of his voice, his charming British accent when not singing, the heartfelt humanity (a synthesis of heartache and humor) or just that he is all around 'snappy' (said with a snappy enthusiasm for full effect and innuendo of sexiness) that made me feel privileged to stand in my two-inch heeled boots for two hours to hear this live (and living) performance. So, Rob Dickinson, while Grooveva is sending a hi-five your way, I would send other numbers your way. (Though from the link from Grooveva's blog, looks like others beat me to it, not at all to my surprise. Don't you think my iguana has the more seductive eyes). However, I still live (maybe by a smidgen) on this side of reality. At least if must result to a groupie-esque fantasy, it is to an indie artist, as Grooveva pointed out. Yeah, I have my standards.

Actually, in this picture, he looks more outraged than the protesters.
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To Rob Dickinson, Grooveva , and all the Bush protesters, thanks for a delightful and unusually eclectic Los Angeles evening.