Book Dealers at the 2023 Los Angeles Times Book Festival
I have always loved attending the Los Angeles Times Book Festival at the University of Southern California (USC). Last year, Martine and I showed up; but I wasn’t feeling well, so we didn’t stick around for long. This year, I feel fine; and I intend to attend both days of the festival. Today was uncomfortably warm. Fortunately, the morning was comfortable. Around two in the afternoon, I took the E-Line back to West L.A.
As in previous festivals, I was most interested in the poetry readings, which are sponsored by Small World Books on the Venice Boardwalk. I listened to several readings, and after lunch I dropped in at the Kurt Vonnegut Library’s booth. (Kurt and I go way back, at least half a century since I first read Slaughterhouse Five.)
By the afternoon, the festival was starting to get too crowded. Morning is definitely the best time to attend. I hope to write several posts in the coming week describing my impressions.
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) is best known for his novels. Although I admire them as much as anybody, I now like his poetry even more. His subjects seem to be on the somber side, but I love their simplicity and rugged construction, such as this one:
The Echo Elf Answers
How much shall I love her?
For life, or not long?
“Not long.”
Alas! When forget her?
In years, or by June?
“By June.”
And whom woo I after?
No one, or a throng?
“A throng.”
Of these shall I wed one
Long hence, or quite soon?
“Quite soon.”
And which will my bride be?
The right or the wrong?
“The wrong.”
And my remedy – what kind?
Wealth-wove, or earth-hewn?
“Earth-hewn.”
The Twin Towers Correctional Facility in Downtown Los Angeles
Martine likes to spend a day in downtown L.A. once a week. While there, she spends some time around the Twin Towers Correctional Facility operated by the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. It holds more than 2,000 inmates. Crumpled up outside the jail are interesting sheets of paper which give a lurid picture of life in stir.
Today, Martine handed me an information sheet entitled “Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) Comprehensive Inmate Education.” It and other informative pieces of paper are tossed away by released inmates. At the top of the sheet is the usual administrative huffing and puffing by the Sheriff’s Department (which refers to itself as the LASD):
LASD maintains a ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY for sexual harassment or sexual abuse of all inmates in its custody.
This means you have the right to be free from sexual harassment and sexual abuse by anyone, including staff, volunteers, contractors, medical and mental health staff, and other inmates, while in LASD’s custody.
You have the right to report if you have been sexually abused/sexually harassed, or if you know of someone else who has been or is being sexually abused/sexually harassed. No one deserves to be sexually abused/sexually harassed.
You have the right to report if you have a suspicion or know of threats that you or someone else will be sexually abused/sexually harassed.
Of course, if you have a ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY, it pretty much means that it is probably widespread across the institution. It is typical that the prison administrators will wish the problem away by burying it in reams of paperwork, of which this Inmate Education sheet is an example. It gives detailed information on whom to contact and how. Also included are the following tips on how to protect yourself from being victimized:
Stay away from gambling or trading goods with other inmates.
Do not use drugs or alcohol [about which there is another ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY]. Being intoxicated puts you at higher risk for sexual abuse.
Do not accept gifts or offers of protection from other inmates.
Keep this information sheet with you for future reference.
There are PREA posters in each housing unit that provide this information.
You will also see a video about PREA in your housing unit that is played on a regular basis.
PREA is also discussed during town hall meetings with staff.
Nowhere is the point made that if you stay out of prison, you are more likely not to be raped, abused, or harassed.
The Traffic Island at the Corner of Ohio Avenue and Santa Monica Blvd
You have not heard me say many good things about the legions of homeless that live in the streets of Los Angeles. Today, I will make an exception. Two blocks east of me is a little traffic island where Ohio Avenue intersects at an angle with Santa Monica Blvd.
The City of Los Angeles does not get the credit for digging up the earth of the island and planting it with succulents and other water-saving plants. The man responsible is a homeless man who lives in a tent to the left of the traffic island. Martine and I have seen him at work planting and weeding.
It is more often the case that the homeless who live in tents in West Los Angeles are known for accumulations of garbage, vandalism, panhandling, and getting into fights with other homeless in the wee hours of the morning.
I have not spoken to the man who created this little garden, but I wish him well. May he find a home where his talent at gardening will be more appreciated. I also hope that some idiotic city administrator does not decide to dig up the garden and replace it with something more boring.
Sophia Loren Giving a Busty Jayne Mansfield Serious Side-Eye
Jayne Mansfield was one of the sex queens of Hollywood, along with Marilyn Monroe. She looked even more overtly sexy than Marilyn, and she ended sadly, even as Marilyn did. Although it is not true that she was decapitated in a 1967 New Orleans auto accident, all manner of stories abounded regarding her life. Apparently both John and Robert Kennedy enjoyed her favors. She bared her all in a 1955 issue of Playboy. Several times when she was appearing in public, her top flew off, exposing her ample breasts to the waiting paparazzi.
I just finished reading a zine by David Hankins entitled “Pink Palace” about the house she lived in with her second husband, Hungarian-born body-builder Mickey Hargitay between 1957 and 1964. Martine found it on one of her walks and became absorbed in reading it. The author had fallen in love with Hargitay and Mansfield’s pink house on Sunset Boulevard and lovingly described its heart-shaped pool, shag-carpeted bathroom, its 700-pound chandelier, its many fireplaces, and the bits of quartz mixed with the pink paint to make it sparkle in the sunlight. There was even a fountain that spritzed pink Champagne.
Jayne in Her Heart-Shaped Tub (Note the Pink Shag Carpeting)
In addition to the grandiloquent fixtures of the house, Jayne and Mickey had a private zoo on the premises, which included rabbits, goats, monkeys, ocelots, a burro, an elephant, a water buffalo, as well as numerous dogs and cats. I was reminded of the Charles Foster Kane character in Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane who also had a zoo on the premises of Xanadu. He didn’t end well either.
All this is leading up in my mind to a Chinese expression. When the Chinese do not want to tempt fate by flaunting their prosperity, they say, “Bad rice! Bad rice!” There is something about a too-lavish lifestyle that makes you fear thunderbolts from the angry gods.
I am by no means a famous person, nor want to be. While it would seem nice to win loads of money in the lottery, I would be afraid of appearing to live too large. And no one who sees me as I am would think me a fashion plate—nor would they if I had the money to be one in fact. I’ve read too many ancient Greek tragedies not to be aware of the Erinyes, also known as the Furies and the Eumenides. Thank you, but I prefer to live small.
Trump Appearing in New York for Another Deposition
Yesterday, I was surprised that Bill Maher on “Real Time with Bill Maher” came out against the 34 felonies with which the Trumpster is charged relating to the Stormy Daniels case. Apparently, he thinks that Americans don’t care about sex-related charges against our presidents, thinking of how Bill Clinton’s popularity soared despite the whole Monica Lewinsky affair.
I say that it is best to keep MAGA Man busy with lawsuits and criminal charges—enough to keep him busy for the rest of his days. This is on the same principle that it is best to keep a toddler busy so that he doesn’t get into more mischief. And here the stakes are considerably higher than mere mischief.
Wear the man out defending himself, looking out for ever more lawyers to stiff. When he is kept busy in this way, there will be fewer incendiary rallies en route to becoming president again. It’s like tying a 100-pound weight to his legs.
If you read this blog, you know I dislike the man. That doesn’t stop me from seeing the humor of the situation.
All these court cases are like the death of a thousand cuts. One can make a case for him being a martyr the first time, but what about the 70th time? or the 7 times 70th time? It may just do the trick.
A small island of the north coast of Devonshire was once owned by a man who called himself a king, issued his own postage stamps, and even—until he was fined for doing so—his own coinage. Martin Coles Harman, who owned the island until his death in 1954, denominated the stamps (and coins) in monetary units of his own devising, which he called Puffins, after the bird which used to congregate on the island. One puffin equaled one British penny.
The stamps were in use to provide postage to Biddeford, Devon, as the Royal Mail had cancelled services to Lundy in 1927. The reason given? There were just two few people resident on the island to justify postal services. So Harman undertook to deliver the mail to Biddeford upon payment of a prescribed number of Puffins. The Lundy stamp appeared on the back of the envelope, so that it would not confuse the Royal Mail employees. On the front of the envelope appeared the appropriate British stamp.
Today, Lundy Island is controlled by the Landmark Trust and still issues its own stamps. And they are still denominated in Puffins. Only now they are good not only for the cross-channel hop to Biddeford, but to whatever destination the sender wishes, with the Royal Mail getting its cut. This is made possible because some 25,000 tourists a year visit the island and send letters and postcards therefrom using the new stamps.
When I used to collect stamps, I had a few Lundy stamps in my possession. At the time, the stamps from the island were considered to be “cinderellas,” that is to say, “anything resembling a postage stamp, but not issued for postal purposes by a government postal administration.” There is a wide variety of cinderella stamps, such as those printed for promotional use by businesses, churches, political or non-profit groups.
Totems at Quw’utsun’ Cultural and Conference Center in Duncan, BC (2004)
The First Nations tribes of the Pacific Northwest have created a unique art form in the totem pole. They are truly multipurpose. According to Wikipedia:
The carvings may symbolize or commemorate ancestors, cultural beliefs that recount familiar legends, clan lineages, or notable events. The poles may also serve as functional architectural features, welcome signs for village visitors, mortuary vessels for the remains of deceased ancestors, or as a means to publicly ridicule someone. They may embody a historical narrative of significance to the people carving and installing the pole. Given the complexity and symbolic meanings of these various carvings, their placement and importance lies in the observer’s knowledge and connection to the meanings of the figures and the culture in which they are embedded.
Interestingly, totem poles till being carved. In Port Alberni on Vancouver Island, I took this picture of a First Nations member carving a new totem pole.
Carving a New Totem Pole
I hope to take a trip to Southeast Alaska and visit the totem poles in Ketchikan, Prince of Wales Island, and other locations. Instead of taking a cruise, I prefer to fly to Ketchikan and travel using the oceangoing ferries of the Alaska Marine Highway. That way, Martine and I can concentrate on seeing the sights—and not schmoozing with cruise ship passengers.
On Friday, I took a bus (to avoid the $20 parking fee) to the Getty Center to view the latest exhibitions and to reacquaint myself with the permanent collection. Unfortunately, the museum was mobbed. Time and time again, I was prevented from seeing a painting because some oversized bozo was stationed in front finger f—ing his smart phone, totally oblivious to the crowds and the magnificent artworks around him.
They reminded me of one of my favorite paintings in the Getty’s permanent collection, James Ensor’s Christ’s Entry into Brussels 1889. Look closely at the crowd entering with Christ who appears (with golden halo) in the center of the painting and slightly to the left. Now imagine each member of the crowd with a smart phone and not giving a tinker’s damn about anything but his or her Facebook or Instagram or whatever.
The Getty’s notes on the painting confirm my opinion:
James Ensor took on religion, politics, and art in this scene of Christ entering contemporary Brussels in a Mardi Gras parade. In response to the French pointillist style, Ensor used palette knives, spatulas, and both ends of his brush to put down patches of colors with expressive freedom. He made several preparatory drawings for the painting, including one in the J. Paul Getty Museum’s collection.
Ensor’s society is a mob, threatening to trample the viewer–a crude, ugly, chaotic, dehumanized sea of masks, frauds, clowns, and caricatures. Public, historical, and allegorical figures, along with the artist’s family and friends, make up the crowd. The haloed Christ at the center of the turbulence is in part a self-portrait: mostly ignored, a precarious, isolated visionary amidst the herdlike masses of modern society. Ensor’s Christ functions as a political spokesman for the poor and oppressed–a humble leader of the true religion, in opposition to the atheist social reformer Emile Littré, shown in bishop’s garb holding a drum major’s baton and leading on the eager, mindless crowd.
After rejection by Les XX, the artists’ association that Ensor had helped to found, the painting was not exhibited publicly until 1929. Ensor displayed Christ’s Entry prominently in his home and studio throughout his life. With its aggressive, painterly style and merging of the public with the deeply personal, Christ’s Entry was a forerunner of twentieth-century Expressionism.
I managed to enjoy my visit despite the crowds. I guess it was Spring Break for too many people, so I should have known better.
Today I took a hike … sort of. Now that we are not being flooded out very week, I needed some exercise—only to find that I was way out of shape. I drove to the Will Rogers State Historical Park in Pacific Palisades. Now this is a trail I had hiked many times before, but today I couldn’t quite make it to the top. And that despite the fact that the trip there and back was only 9/10 of a mile (1.5 km) with a total gain of 119 feet (36 meters)!
I am resolved to try again soon. It is amazing how a long spell of bad weather can expose how out of shape one is.
No matter. I still enjoyed the experience. The hills were covered with purple and gold wildflowers, and at several points there were still rivulets seeping from the hills right through the center of the trail. At three points along the trail, there are benches . I took advantage of them once on the way up and once on the way down. It was a lovely day, with coastal fog starting to come in at the lower elevations.
In another ten or twelve weeks, it’ll be too hot to hike this trail, so I had better do it again soon perhaps two or three times. When it gets really hot in L.A., it’s better to stick to level ground—and that early in the morning. Once 11 am rolls along, it becomes a sweaty ordeal.
When I finished the walk, I sat down on one of the three rocking chairs on the porch of Will Rogers’s old house and watched parents play with their children on the wide lawn in front.
Tarnmoor 
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