In this bathroom restoration, I’ve had a bitch of a time trying to find the baseboard. (That’s the piece of trim that runs along the bottom of a wall.) In my house every single room has the same original trim. Except of course, for the bathroom and the kitchen, the two rooms that have been changed quite a bit through the years.

In the process I’ve searched nearly every salvage yard I know of, a backyard, a salvage lumber place, home depot, lowes, and a few specialty trim shops.

These were from the photos I finally got off my phone of a salvage yard called Freeway Building Materials in Los Angeles. Really really cool place. They’ve got tons of great house parts, and then super cool older things. I even saw a few jet skis when I was last there.

In 2009, LAPA documented paranormal activity at the Linda Vista Hospital in East LA when we captured what sounded like the voice of a little girl humming in the surgery area. We later returned with the crew of the Ghost Adventures TV show (Travel Channel) and experienced paranormal activity once again, including the capture of an evp that sounded like the same humming. In January, 2010, Los Angeles Paranormal Association returned once more to Linda Vista hospital with a host of noted and experienced paranormal investigators. Special thanks to Mark and Debby Constantino, Andy Coppock, Michelle Ayers, Jen Brown, APRA Paranormal and Dave Harvey & Kristin Baalman of Altered States Para Radio.

Hello blogging family,

I’m new to this blogging thing! I was watching t.v a few hours ago and I thought it would be a great idea to document my journey to becoming a doctor. So, I want to start off my first blog with writing about where I’m from and how I got to Virginia.

I am 26 years old and I’m originally from East Los Angeles, CA. Although I’m still young, I think I can say that I’ve been through more than your average 26-year-old. Growing up in East LA was difficult. A city surrounded by poverty, guns, drugs, and of course gangs. I have one older brother and three older sisters who all decided to join gangs. So, of course it might seem like I “should have” went down the same road, but that wasn’t the case. I was first approached to join a gang when I was in the sixth grade(around 11 years old). At the time I thought that joining a gang was “the thing to do”. My siblings were all involved in gangs, so I thought,why shouldn’t I, right? Well thank God I didn’t go through with joining a gang but it wouldn’t be the last time I was going to be approached about joining a gang either. By the eighth grade about 80 percent of my friends were in a gang. My first year of high school I hung around with “the wrong crowd”. I began to involve myself in gang activity but never officially committed myself to being “jumped in”. (Being jumped in means being beat up by 3 or 4 guys for 13 seconds as an initiation into the gang). I completed the 10th grade with a 1.0 G.P.A. Luckily I met my wife during my tenth grade year. I have to thank for keeping me away from a lot of the bad stuff I could have gotten myself into. By the end of high school most of my friends were either dead, in jail, or on drugs.

My wife and I had our first child right after high school, which was the biggest eye opener for me of all time. My first job was working at a department store(a few months), than as a loader for UPS( a few months also), and spent about a year and a half working as a personal financial rep. for Washington Mutual Bank( when it existed, ha ha). My wife and I knew we didn’t want our daughter to have to experience what we had to experience growing up in East LA. We needed to figure out the quickest way to get out of East LA. So I decided to join the United States Navy. Joining the Navy was by far one of the best decision we made for our family. My job title in the Navy was Aviation Boatswain’ Mate Handler( an aircraft director on an aircraft carrier). We had our second daughter while in the Navy. I received the highest qualification possible for my rank 2 years into the Navy. I spent my last two years performing my job and training others along the way. I went on a seven and a half month around the world deployment from Bremerton,WA to Norfolk,VA. I spent a total of four years and 4 months in the Navy.

After the Navy I worked as a Financial Rep. for SunTrust bank. August 2009, The military put out a new plan for the Montgomery g.i. bill called the post 911 Montgomery g.i. The military pays 100% of my tuition+ pays me housing allowance + extra $ for books and supplies( not to shabby I think) so I jumped all over it. I enrolled at Old Dominion University and quit my job to fully dedicate myself to school.( to most people quitting my job during these hard times may not have been the best idea but this was an opportunity I couldn’t let pass me by)

I am now a student at Old Dominion University majoring in biology and preparing to apply to medical school.

My goal is to blog as much as possible through my journey in becoming a Doctor.

The colorful city

East Los Angeles and Boyle Heights, California, USA

Recently, the Los Angeles Metro Transit Authority cut the ribbon on a new segment of the Metro Gold Line railway, extending from downtown Los Angeles along 3rd Street, ending at the East Los Angeles Civic Center. I am obsessed with trains, and when I heard about this momentous occasion, I made immediate plans with another adventurous local to check it out.

What some see daily most of us are afraid to explore

I’m really glad to have friends that consider taking the light rail in a different part of town an adventure. We pretty much discussed that we’re probably the only two people we know that would get stoked about going to East LA. Most people only think of adventuring as going somewhere that requires tools normally not used in everyday life, like pickaxes and backpacks with metal frames. I love that stuff, but to me, a place like East Los Angeles has too many stigmas and negative connotations in our society to cross it out of my adventure book. I suppose that this kind of adventuring requires a different kind of tool; one that is becoming less-used by the hour in our society where people can’t have conversations that don’t depend on texting anymore, such as, maybe, the head mounted between our shoulders? We can go far with just our brains, I mean, just mix some keen senses with a pinch of wit, bake at a friendly face, and you’ve got a wonder-tool that rivals the electric can opener.

Southern California Edison, though no solar panels here

Frankly, when we think of the “Eastside” (could be a different “side” if you’re not from LA), we think of the typical “wrong side of the tracks”: the run-down, immigrant part of town, the place to stay away from, filled with gangs, guns, violence, drugs, pollution, broken families, no native English-speakers, El Caminos with bullet-holes that look all too real to be stickers, etc. I admit, I was nervous myself, because even though the things you hear are usually blown way out of proportion, you hear them for a reason. Plus, having a mother from East LA tell me sternly to keep a sharp eye and to get out before nightfall means, straight up, “don’t mess around over there”. But, I figured, public transit systems are usually pretty safe when you’re on-board, and if we felt sketched out, we’d just go to another stop. So, even though it was mid-afternoon, we decided to go. We were hungry anyway and had a pretty good feeling that that we’d probably find a good taqueria off the side of the road.

When we caught the Gold Line at Union Station, we became aware that we were not the only explorers. It was good to know that there were other people in the world looking to “see for themselves”. We took the train to the end of the line, noting all of the restaurants that looked the most local, but also that, while some parts of town seemed distinctly like we had imagined, a lot of the areas off the line looked pretty ordinary. We hopped off the train to take some pictures and walk to what we thought was our best option, Lupe’s #2, a small stand off the side of the road. In conversation with a couple of sheriffs also eating there and the owner of the restaurant, we shared that we had seen the place from the rail and decided to try it out, and the owner was was ecstatic to hear that the new line might bring new business to her restaurant. Awesome! I truly hope it does.

The beautiful gazebo at Mariachi Plaza at dusk

We got back on the train and started heading towards downtown LA, and decided to get off at the underground stops where we weren’t able to see what the neighborhood looked like on the way out. We were struck every time by how friendly people were. Every person said hello in passing. It was as if we had left LA entirely and magically arrived in a place where people are actually friendly. We decided that Mariachi Plaza sounded cool, so we disembarked promptly. We went to grab an ice cream, as one would on any real adventure, and ended up having another lovely conversation with the owner about the new line and how she was excited for the business that it will bring. Again, I sure hope that she’s right. But most of all, I hope that this new line helps the isolated Westsiders break their preconceived notions about East LA. I’m not saying that I experienced the ghetto and it wasn’t all that bad, because there are definitely parts of town that I wouldn’t mind avoiding altogether. Certainly there are bad areas, but everything starts off that way until you actually go see for yourself. Surely it’s probably not a good place to be wandering aimlessly at night, but just as so, I have friends that have been creeped on in Westwood Village, so maybe it’s night to watch out for, not East LA.

View of downtown LA from E. 3rd Street

I talk about this experience as if I went to some exotic place, but really it was a few miles from where I was living at the time in mid-city Los Angeles. However, to many of us, a place like East LA is just as foreign as, say, Bahrain, because even though it’s a place we know exists, few of us have actually been.

East LA is certainly one of the most marginalized parts of town. There are many more concrete problems to be solved than in other neighborhoods, but the biggest problem, as I see it, is the way it is perceived outside of its boundaries. Sure, the shops and restaurants aren’t as sexy, probably because they’re filled with real people rather than Beverly Hills mannequins.

I would take the grittiness over the phoniness any day.

This part of town shares the same story as any “Eastside”: the big money builds the industry and leaves when it becomes too polluted, leaving behind a hazardous environment only to those that have no other choice: the most honest, hard-working people in our society. It seems that the lesson we’ve grown up learning is that preying on those less fortunate is the road to success. Kind of a weird system when we preach oneness and pretend that we’re some archetype of multiculturalism. The city motto of Manhattan Beach, on the opposite end of town, is “Portrait of the California Lifestyle”, and I think they got it half-right. They forgot to include the second clause, which should read: “that 99% of people will never be able to attain”. I don’t know if we’re as “one” as we say we are, but to not end on a pessimistic note, I do think that we’re getting closer. Even if we’re not as culturally integrated as we want to be, we’re at least starting to understand each other better. And, one light rail at a time, we’ll be there soon.

I am going to post a recap of 2009 in photos from entries I made here at www.jaebueno.com.  I am picking one photo per month.  It has been quite a year for me and my photography. I hope 2010 brings even more opportunities.

January ~ Majestics New Years Day Picnic ~ Hollywood Park

February ~ NHRA Winternationals ~ Pomona Raceway

March ~ DUB Show Los Angeles ~ Los Angeles Convention Center

April ~ California Car & Cycle Show ~ Ventura

May ~ Stephanie’s Rio Hondo College/RN Program Graduation ~ Whittier

June ~ Caila’s high school graduation ~ Ramona Convent ~ Alhambra

June ~ Julian’s Kindergarten promotion ~ Emery Park School ~ Alhambra

July ~ Good Times Anniversary Party ~ Irwindale

August ~ True Memories Whittier Blvd Car Show ~ East Los Angeles

September ~ Edgar Brito’s 64 Impala Photoshoot ~  Atlanta Georgia

October ~ Lowrider Magazine Photoshoot ~ San Diego

November ~ SEMA Show ~ Las Vegas

December ~ Mooneyes Xmas Car Show ~ Irwindale

If you have the time, please go through the archives to see more on the photos posted in this entry. There are alot more photos in the archives as well as my Flickr page. Thanks for looking and thanks for being a regular visitor here. Happy 2010!

And a body without a heart, I’m missing every part….

This song is beyond the typical song. It is the lost love song. The heartbreak song. Any person with a soul and and heart can relate to this song. It’s simple drum track, the compassionate string section, the melancholy piano solo, the subtle recording scratching of “Heeeeeey Hey Hey Heeeeeeeeey” to the most touching of all, the beautiful voice professing the soul… “Like a Soul without a Mind, And a Body without a Heart, I’m Missing Every Part”. This is perfection in sonic form. Then comes the video. As defined and as simple as the description above, the video completes the circle. Elegance in its highest stage. Watch for yourself. Take it all in without reservation or judgment and tell me you can’t relate. Again I dare you…

Massive Attack – Unfinished Sympathy – Blue Lines (1991)

The loneliness that resides in the heart holds only a temporary space that soon gets replaced by love, memories and hope for the better that is deserved…

PHOTO by KEN HIVELY / L.A. TIMES

KFI’s notorious open-mawed radio commentators John and Ken spent 15 minutes on Monday attacking everything about the recently opened Gold Line extension, a light rail line that runs from Little Tokyo to East LA. In the process, the pair slammed the L.A.Times for sending four writers (including me) to round up the best restaurants at each of the extension’s stops. (That story, including my contributions at the Soto St. and Indiana St. stops can be found here.) Predictably, John and Ken sink to race-baiting depths, calling East LA a “disgusting illegal alien slum” and wondering why they’ve never seen goat at the “authentic Mexican restaurants” they supposedly frequent.

Listen for yourself below:

Roast Goat Express by eatfoodwithme

We went downtown, yesterday, to see the new Gold Line light rail line extension and to ride it into east L.A.

I was with my mother, who walks with difficulty after her hip operation last year.

We parked somewhere east of Little Tokyo, where art and commerce are slowly converting old factories into sunny communes of post-industrialism.

Along Alameda, a band played and friendly crowds stood along the light rail track waiting to board trains that ran to Pasadena (Northbound) or Atlantic Avenue (Southbound). Many yellow shirted Metro employees handed out brochures, maps and smiles answering any questions from excited and bewildered riders.

This is still new for Los Angeles, the idea that human beings might ride on trains to travel around this city. In Prague, Paris, Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur, Mumbai, Buenos Aires, Montreal, Vancouver and Boston people crowd unselfconsciously into those steel boxes on steel tracks, but here in a city that was last progressive 60 years ago, the light rail was ripped out along with our civic engagement.

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I had driven down the 405, yesterday, from Van Nuys to Marina Del Rey. The sun was brilliant, the air was cool, the wind was blowing, and I have lived here long enough to feel uneasy in these ideal conditions.

Somewhere in the left lane, near the Getty Center, I was traveling about 60 MPH in fairly heavy traffic, moving along. A BMW sped up behind me. I looked in the mirror and could see an impatient face on a young male driver. I pulled out of his lane and moved to the far right.

In the far right lane, I found space and accelerated. The BMW also pulled into my lane, behind me and began to tailgate me. I went into another lane, and he did too.

I was going 80 as I passed the 10 off-ramp, and he was right behind me. As I turned to go west on the Marina Freeway, he pulled up on my right, slamming his foot down on the accelerator and tore up the road to pass me fading fast into the 405 South.

Where did his aggression come from? I had moved out of his way. I gave him his road. I tried to escape.

But that was not enough. He was in the mood for a race, and overcome with the urge to beat me and to alpha guy fuck off another male driver.

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On the train, my mom and I met a young woman who told us to disembark at Mariachi Plaza in Boyle Heights where there was a street fair, with entertainment, food and other events.

One emerges from the underground into the unfiltered, concrete-baked sunlight of east LA.

A stained glass canopy covers the escalators. This is a cathedral of light, an ecclesiastical structure imbued with a Catholic message for this old Mexican-American neighborhood. Rays of gold, red, blue and green pour through the roof and illuminate riders as they pass through Mariachi Plaza. In an age where every new building in Los Angeles is stripped of meaning and constructed so obtusely and abstractly, this Metro station gently merges church and train.

We spent a little time walking around and ate some ceviche and stood next to the Lucha Reyes statue.

Then we got back in a long, outdoor line to wait for the train. As we waited there, an older woman walked up to us. She said she had lived in Boyle Heights her whole life, but was going to ride the train two stops to downtown. She was scared and wanted us to accompany her.

Her name was Rosalie, and she asked us if we were Jewish. I said yes, and she said, “the activist traditions of Boyle Heights came from the Jewish people”. She was 75-years-old and remembered the community when there were Jews living in it.

As we went down into the station, she panicked. “Maybe I shouldn’t ride the train,” she said. Over and over she asked how she would find her way back to Mariachi Plaza. I told her that many employees were around and she would not get lost. She was afraid of disorientation, suffocation, crowds, and unfamiliar surroundings.

“Your son is so sweet,” she told my mom. What Rosalie didn’t know is that I have had panic attacks. And, like Rosalie, one of my fears is claustrophobia and the other is getting lost. Her irrational worries were perfectly sane to me.

On the station platform, more old people introduced themselves. A gregarious man from Panorama City said he was born and raised in Chicago, and had graduated from Von Steuben High School in 1955, a few years after my mother.

The train pulled up, we all stuffed ourselves in. Rosalie was smiling, happy, laughing. She had found friends in strangers just by talking, riding and moving on light rail.

We got off at Little Tokyo. Rosalie shook our hands and crossed to the other side of the platform where she met some other people who were going back to East LA.

One afternoon, in the new Los Angeles, where a normal urban venture suddenly opens up a new avenue of hope.

The Sinister Yung Breeze

On behalf of our worldwide audience, Joe Stern-McGovern, global agent and President of Universal Artists, International, is pleased to announce the return of Yung Breeze, former partner of DTA of Houston’s hardcore street duo, The Brigade. Known for such hits as Degradation, Block Bleed, Krunch Time, Real Where I’m At, Mob Style, and Hands if You Feel Me, our listeners can come to expect the return of these classics to the shelves and in downloads on the coming site and charitable brainchild of Joe Stern-McGovern, www.endhivaids.com, dedicated to eradicating HIV/AIDS in our lifetime.

Produced by Joe Stern-McGovern in the earliest days of Universal Artists, International, Yung Breeze was a budding prodigy discovered through H-Town’s young producer, Mastamind, along with his cohort, B-Fly, on the hard streets of Houston’s notorious 3rd Ward. With many a scuffle and near miss with the local Texan thugs and corrupted, as well as close encounters with Harris County’s finest, Yung Breeze was molded by the environment in which he was raised.

Joe Stern-McGovern Posing with The Brigade

While Yung Breeze’s lyrics and the vehemence of his delivery are part in parcel of who he has become, his aura and essence are more of a product and statement of that which he has personally witnessed within his community and the back alleys of Sharpstown, as well as the peril he’s bourne on his shoulders rather than a radical call for violence, rebellion, and disobedience. When he cries out for justice and equality, his words ring with crystal clarity as those of an individual whose lived the life against which he protests with endurance, contempt, and integrity, and simultaneously maintains the roots of who he’s developed into as a man of pride and consequence.

If you wish to know how the other side of the tracks has lived and survived without personally endangering yourself and your future, take a quick listen to the furious tales of the dark side as portrayed on the microphone and in the studio by the genuine article, Houston’s Yung Breeze.

In spite of the anger and resentment one might expect from such an individual, Yung Breeze has developed into a rather charitable individual, donating his time and talent to Joe Stern-McGovern and Universal Artists, International’s struggle against the spread of HIV and the devastating consequences of AIDS.

Look for future production of Yung Breeze through the likes of Shaka Productions, as well at  H-Town’s legendary recording hot spot, In the Jar Studios, run by the studios owner and operator, Al Loya, techincal afficianado and savvy engineer to some of hip hop’s fastest rising legends.

“When I first met Yung Breeze, he was a struggling youth who had a great sense of pride, an enormous gift of expression, and a knack for conveying his particular genius through the local street venacular of the areas hoods and ruffians. Originally recording at one of the illest and most infamous studios in the shadier side of town, Psyche Ward, Yung Breeze was picked up and developed by the genius of the wonder twins, Boss and Ripp.” Collectively, these forces of the city’s darker and far more dangerous neighborhood known as Southwest Houston, Soufwest to the locals, have come to the forefront in recent days.”

Joe Stern-McGovern can personally vouch for the validity of the young anti-hero as through his entrancing telling of the first photo shoot the act was to experience as the entity which would come to be known as the Soufwest Brigade, or simply, The Brigade, led by street veteran and surprising genius given his circumstances, DTA, “Don’t Trust Anyone”, a meeting in which the photographer was so terrified, he insisted the photo shoot take place in broad daylight in a local downtown Houston city park.

The Southwest Brigade

True to his name, DTA came to generally distrust those who held the strings to his future as well as his cohorts, and the split was made as DTA went MIA and Yung Breeze continued the journey on the road to stardom solo. For those dedicated and loyal fans of DTA, fear not, he is yet in his prime and will surely rise back to the surface given the timing, motive, and opportunity, as his tales are of equal importance to those of any and must be expressed through the venue known widely as hip hop.

Currently holed up in Al’s “In the Jar Studios”, Yung Breeze is deliberating the path of his next turn towards truth and the betterment of society and the world around him through analysis of the streets and the general feeling of the times.

“Youths such as Yung Breeze sadden me in a way,” states Joe Stern-McGovern. “He’s just about the age my son would’ve been had he lived, and upon reflection it fills me with a sense that somehow I, as a part of society,  have failed our younger generations, leaving them to inherit a world abandoned to greed and the mismanagement of our leaders and botched policies of the government, an entity whose best intentions are questionable.” Those who have chosen such selfish ends will now come to face the fury and ambitions towards societal justice and self-correction from the likes of DTA, Yung Breeze, two halves of the Brigade.

For more information about Yung Breeze or DTA, please visit us at www.myspace.com/universalartists or www.universalartists.net. For information about booking either of the duo domestically or internationally, please write to Joe Stern-McGovern’s assistant at either joesternmcgovern@myspace.com or www.myspace.com/joesternmcgovern. For inquiries of the artistic nature or to explore your own future as an artist at Universal Artists, International, please write to Shaka of Shaka Productions at shaka@universalartists.net.

Light Brigade Records

For donations to the Pediatric AIDS Foundation, please visit our writer’s page at www.universalartists.net. If you are interested in either sponsoring or investing our endeavours at fighting the battle  against HIV/AIDS, please write to joe@universalartists.net, or universalartists@myspace.com attention, Joe Stern-McGovern.

For information regarding the sales of Universal Artists, International’s products or charitable goals, or to download singles towards charity from your favorite Universal Artists, International artist please visit our latest site, www.endhiveaids.com, currently under construction and built by www.lubashadesign.com.

For information about our colleagues abroad, please visit www.pure-records.com or write to info@pure-records.com in Tokyo, Japan attention, Eric. Please look for our international release throughout greater Japan, Eastern Asia, and Australia in early 2010.

Now on Sale, Casey Rankin's, "Speaking in Tongues"

A note on a friend’s Facebook page (curator Rita Gonzalez) triggered a memory for me and gave me the inspiration to write down the following list. It is not chronological or geographical and is not meant to imply that I ascribe any importance to celebrity in and of itself.

Celebrity is often more accident than accomplishment and it is good to remember that health care workers, waiters and waitresses, drivers and busboys, grocery store clerks and bag boys of both sexes (are there any left?) janitors (like my dad), auto mechanics, animal care workers, maids and house cleaners (like my mom), receptionists, nail girls and shoe shine boys (and girls), school teachers, and of course the most invisible workforce, without whom we would starve to death, field hands and farm workers and all the other un-acknowledged laborers that work hard to make our lives easier, are and will always be, the real celebrities as far as I am concerned.

Note: The list does not include the famous people I met while driving a limousine since it hardly qualifies as a “spotting” if I am given the address to their home and required to transport them. It also does not include anyone I met while I worked the graveyard shift as an elevator operator at The Beverly-Wilshire Hotel since that was a captive odd-ience, or anyone I met through employment of any kind. My memory is not what it used to be. Often I can’t remember breakfast but I find the distant past sometimes returns for an encore so I may add names as they come to me.

Celebrity Spotting Memories from East L.A. and Beyond

George Segal – Calvary Cemetery

Walter Matthau – Commonwealth or Occidental between 3^rd & Beverly

Ray Charles – LAX

Muhammad Ali – LAX

Jack Lemmon – LAX

Tony Roberts – #6 Train NYC

Tony Roberts – Public Theater Lobby

Nathan Lane – Public Theater Lobby

Wallace Shawn – St. Marks Place 1995

Wallace Shawn – NY Post Office 2005

Philip Glass – a local restaurant

Julianne Moore – a local restaurant

Alicia Silverstone – a local restaurant

Pearl Bailey – Dorothy Chandler Pavilion

William H. Macy – Beverly Center

Tony Bennett – Lexington Ave

Sophia Loren – Toluca Lake Post Office

Pierce Brosnan – Cross Creek Shopping Center

Bud Cort – a local market

George Clinton – Santa Monica Blvd near Gower

Frank Sinatra Jr. – driving east Santa Monica Blvd.

Chevy Chase – driving south the PCH

Placido Domingo – Grand Street Downtown LA

Sara Gilbert – El Rey Theater

Sara Gilbert – a local restaurant

Tom Waits – The Black Rider opening night in San Francisco

Chancellor of Austria Franz Vranitzky – Salzburg Festival

Danny DeVito, Rhea Perlman – Universal Amphitheater

Mickey Rooney – Santa Anita

Dick van Patten – Hollywood Park

Martin Sheen – Hollywood Park

Smokey Robinson – Burbank Airport

Crispin Glover – A local market

John Houseman – Market in Malibu

Sam Waterston – 3rd Avenue

Jason Schwartzman – a local restaurant

Ray Bradbury – Old World Restaurant

Pat Riley – Piero’s

Natalie Merchant – Le Petit Four restaurant

Jennifer Coolidge – a local restaurant

My all time favorite celebrity spotting was the legendary Udo Kier at the Goodwill on Hollywood Boulevard. He was trying on jackets and looked very dapper indeed. Was he shopping for a role? Was he shopping for himself? It matters none.

To shop at thrift stores is to recycle. To shop at thrift stores is green. To shop at thrift stores is treasure hunting and you never know who you might run into.

Read it in English.
Aún estando a más de 5,000 millas de distancia los valores, y el sistema de creencias que los une es el mismo. Estos dos grupos comparten el amor por la música y estilo de vida que genera costumbres, prácticas, códigos y normas, al ser parte del club de fans de Morrissey. Este famoso cantante del grupo The Smiths de padres irlandeses pero crecido en Manchester, ahora vive en Los Ángeles y ha logrado captar el corazón de miles de jóvenes mexicanos en el oeste de la ciudad de Los Ángeles con su música melancólica como lo ha hecho a diario con los jóvenes irlandeses de Manchester.

Y es que con sólo comenzar a enlazar los puntos de conexión de estos dos grupos podemos ver que trasciende puntos raciales, géneros sexuales y tiene más que ver con experiencias de vidas compartidas. Para los mexicanos en particular, las similitudes con la cultura que ya estaban acostumbrados a ver en su ”México Querido” son clave al entender su devoción por una música que ha sido disfrutada por una audiencia blanca, y que sólo habla inglés.

Primero, hay que reconocer el paralelo que existe entre la música de Morrissey y la música tradicional mexicana donde se aprecia las melodías de otros tiempos, como las rancheras, el mariachi, el bolero y hasta los tríos. En ella, al igual que en la música de Morrissey se reflejan todas esas historias de ambigüedad, con imágenes fuertes y metáforas que viven en un mundo creado para el pueblo y no para los ricos; como en todas las películas de Pedro Infante y Vicente Fernández. Son estas historias basadas en la incertidumbre que existen en la vida y en el amor que tocan el corazón de estos mexicanos acostumbrados a escuchar canciones de despecho, amores imposibles, o sueños inalcanzables.

Otra similitud, se basa en la combinación de subculturas que ya existían mucho antes de los 80s en la cultura Mexicana, como la vestimenta de los Pachuco que fue popularizado por el comediante Mexicano “Tin-Tan”, el look de los Rockibilly con su cabello engrasado a la “Elvis Presley” y toques de rock alternativo que de alguna manera al verse unidas en un cantante como Morrissey forman una fusión de culturas ya aceptadas y más fáciles de asimilar.

Aún más importante, es el sentimiento de desplazamiento al que son expuestas las familias mexicanas al llegar a un país desconocido como los Estados Unidos en busca del sueño americano. Morrissey no solo canta acerca de su desinterés por las autoridades, pero en su letra demuestra lo mucho que entiende el ser discriminado y casi execrado de una cultura. El siempre se ha sentido atraído a ese tipo de vida trabajadora o blue collar ya que también entiende la “lucha” que vivieron sus padres irlandeses que llegaron a Inglaterra en busca de otras oportunidades.

Es así cómo vemos a un grupo de jóvenes Latinos que a primera vista no tienen nada en común con los jóvenes de Manchester formar una subcultura en la que se sienten mucho mas aceptados, unidos y como en casa, ya que es lo más cercano a lo que encuentran en su propia cultura natal. Son los puntos de intersección cultural como la vestimenta, normas, formas de ser y rituales que tienen el poder de escapar los estereotipos y son capaces de crear movimientos.

Por eso que cansados de los estereotipos y modelos que no los representan, los jóvenes Latinos crean sus propios códigos y culturas. La capacidad creativa de reinventar culturas a través de tomar ideas y modelos pre existentes, confirma la mayor apertura mental del segmento bi-cultural.

Como comunicadores, tenemos la obligación de entender de cerca las tendencias y cambios. Seguir las subculturas y monitorear cómo impactan en la forma de hablar, de jugar, de emocionarse, de divertirse, de consumir.  Tenemos la obligación de compartir estas subculturas con nuestros clientes si queremos que la publicidad sea un reflejo del presente más que un recuerdo de un consumidor que fue pero que ya no existe más.

¿Qué dicen, se apuntan? ¿Qué otras subculturas latinas conocen?

- Latinminds-

Last night I decided to watch the latest “Bring It On” release starring Christina Milian. I know you’re probably thinking who the hell even watches those “Bring It On” flicks but, I used to be a cheerleader so I always enjoy watching the big competitions at the end.  This release has to have been the corniest, wackest, and most stereotypical “Bring It On” movie ever made.  The movie was beyond cheesy but, what bothered me the most was the frequent stereotypes about Latinos. I’m not even Latino but, I had a huge problem with the way the movie tried to portray Latinos. The direct stereotypical jokes that were used in this movie to portray “the stuck up” cheerleader’s hatred for the “East LA/Latina” cheerleaders were just outlandish. Maybe I take things too seriously or maybe I’m too sensitive but, I hardly found this blatant mockery amusing. I’m wondering how many Latinos watched this film and took offense.

By the way I found this movie so horrible that I couldn’t even watch the whole movie. I ended up saying screw the competition at the end.

Whenever my grandson Aubrey from Los Angeles visits, we make an effort to indulge our mutual interest in great pizza. We only have a few places we frequent but we are never disappointed since the places we patronize consistently make the “best of” lists in New York City. I consider it an inexpensive and worthwhile pursuit.

Thinking back to my own youth, my grandfather lived in El Paso, Texas, was about a hundred and two, spoke only in Spanish and wore a hat for so many years that it had altered the shape of his head. I only met him a handful of times and he died when I was still quite young. I can’t remember a single conversation but we always knelt to him for a blessing before leaving and driving back the 800 miles to Los Angeles.

This summer, the first night Aubrey arrived I met him at JFK. He is almost fifteen and nearly six feet tall. (I swear they’re putting something in the milk.) After dropping his bags at the apartment we decided to head downstairs stairs for a slice. I told him I had noticed that Luzzo’s of downtown fame had opened a small to-go shop on 96^th street, four blocks from our apartment.

We eagerly walked the four blocks with much anticipation. It was time to see if their uptown shop would pass muster. As we approached I noticed it looked awfully dark. When we got to the door we were met by a hand-written sign. On vacation, will be back September 1. All I could think was “Bastards! How dare they!”  Then upon further reflection, I realized I was actually glad they were gone for the entire month of August. It was very Italian and could only lend credence to the authenticity of their pizza.

So, Luzzo’s was closed and now we had intense pizza yearning. Well, what the hell, I thought. Let’s jump on the crosstown bus and head over to our all-time personal favorite Sal & Carmine’s. I checked my watch.  10:30 PM already.  I knew they closed at 11:00, so we jumped on the next bus and then, once on the west side, I made him walk as fast as I do (my friend Jim calls me Rocket Ass). We covered the five blocks up Broadway in record time but as we approached, once again, we were met with darkness. You can imagine our disappointment. No vacation just a dark and lonely closed pizzeria.

We decided the pizza gods were against us that night and gave up on pizza altogether. We quickly settled on hamburgers and root beer floats at a nearby diner and I must admit they were really good. It is probably the only thing that can even begin to make up for no Sal & Carmine’s.

A week passed and one evening around 7:00 PM, I decided to give pizza another try. This time, I suggested Aubrey look up the opening and closing hours before venturing across town.  I never expected what he said next. While searching the net, he came across a rumor that Sal had died. I jumped on my laptop and a quick search of my own confirmed that the rumor was probably true.

Sal and Carmine were two men in their 70’s from the old country. They stood next to each other behind that counter in their small shop and made pizza every day for decades.

They did not deliver, accepted only cash and sold no alcohol in their simple establishment. Most restaurants only sell food as a way to push booze. That is where a restaurant’s real profit lies. That Sal & Carmine’s sold nothing but pizza from this little shop on Broadway and 101^st Street is proof that their product is stellar.

There are dissenters. Some claim that it is too old school or too salty or too this or too that but as my wife stated, that is exactly what pizza tasted like when she was growing up in New York City more than thirty years ago.

Sal was often called the crankier of the two although my wife claims he was always very nice to her in an endearing gruff sweet way.  He was always business-like with me and I never minded one bit. I had enough friends, what I needed was great pizza and Sal & Carmine never let me down.

I had a special reason for liking the place above and beyond their delicious pizza. When I was growing up in East LA there was a corner store called Ornelas Market. It was owned and operated by a father son team of Angel and Richard Ornelas. It was on the corner of 8^th Street and Concord in Boyle Heights.

Ornelas was a classic corner store. It sold candy and sodas and food products in small sizes. Against the wall behind the counter arose a clutter composed of all manner of handy things you might run out of or misplace like batteries and toothpaste and black plastic hair combs. Etched in my mind are the names of products you never see anymore like Vitalis and Brylcreem and Pepsodent.

In the back of the store was a meat counter complete with butcher in a white chef’s apron and white cap. Whenever my father went in to Ornelas he always called the butcher “maestro.” I never knew why but it sounded so professional and everyone seemed to cheer up when he said it. I assume it was part of the uniquely Chihuahua/El Paso dialect of Spanish spoken by so many in East LA at that time.

Richard was a large man, about the size of Jackie Gleason and not very old but his dad looked ancient. He had deep lines in his face and dark hair mixed with gray. The thing I remember most about Angel was his distinctive hands. His knuckles were larger than normal and his fingers had grown misshapen over time. I assume he couldn’t hold his fingers out straight; they bent at the knuckles and leaned over to one side.

Ornelas extended credit to the neighborhood by keeping a running tab on an index card marked with each family’s name in a little box. He knew my parents well.   We were there everyday and I guess we might not have eaten sometimes if not for their simple credit system.

One day Angel asked me to fetch a small bottle for him from the ice cream freezer behind the Neapolitan sandwiches. I looked in the freezer and there it was; a small flask-like bottle of clear booze. I was only about seven years old and didn’t know if it was gin or vodka or schnapps. He poured a little into a coffee cup and then asked me to put it back. He thanked me and let me pick a candy from the small stuff. It might have been a simple task but I enjoyed it and I suppose he appreciated it. Going to Sal & Carmine’s reminded me of this, because Sal had these same misshapen knuckles and hands.

Last night my grandson and I finally made it to the pizzeria. Carmine, the less cranky of the two, was alone. I didn’t say a word to him about Sal or mention his unusual absence. We ordered our pizza and ate in silence.  My grandson Aubrey and I never speak much but we enjoy each other’s company.

One night I asked him if we took all the things we said to each other in a week and put them all down on paper, would it add up to one page? In typical Aubrey fashion he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

After pizza we decided to walk back to 86^th Street for the ride across the park. We happened to pass one of the new Tim Horton’s Manhattan locations.  The time seemed right so I decided to introduce him to “Timbits.” We were still full from the pizza and I knew we could never finish a dozen.  I thought perhaps I would ask if they would sell just a few.

The nice young woman behind the counter asked how many? I said I’d like two glazed and asked Aubrey how many he would like. He said two as well. She said she would give us four Timbits and there would be no charge. I was a bit surprised and thanked her. She wrapped them up and I left something in her makeshift tip jar.

Aubrey and I walked down Broadway toward the bus stop eating our wonderful Timbits on the way. We didn’t say much but I guessed we were both glad we had known the incomparable and taciturn Salvatore Malanga of Sal & Carmine’s.

Today was the much anticipated and long awaited Whittier Blvd car show hosted by True Memories Car Club. It turned out great! Lots of cars and lots of people! Always a pleasure seeing and talking with everyone! Here is a mixture of photos by Stephanie & I.

During college, I worked as a teacher’s assistant at Lorena Street School, my old kindergarten.  One day, during recess, another TA walked up to me and asked, Como te llamas?  As an incorrigible snob, I remember fixing my gaze on his plastic-soled canvas shoes and thinking “Does this Disco Debbie really expect me to communicate with him?”

Luckily for me, I managed to overcome my epic conceit and answer his question.  As it turned out, Daniel Villarreal had impeccable taste in music, in spite of his choice of footwear. That was nearly thirty years ago and we have been friends ever since.

Daniel was studying photography at East Los Angeles College and I admired his sense of composition and the fact that he developed and printed his own photographs. He introduced me to Bill Maxwell director of the All Nations Neighborhood Center across the street from Daniel’s apartment on the corner of Soto and Michigan Avenues. On my first visit to the Center, we chatted briefly and Bill asked if I was also interested in photography. I said sure without giving it much thought and then he instructed Daniel to take me to the storeroom and give me a camera.

I was amazed at the simplicity of the process. There were no forms to fill out, no deposits to be left. Bill simply said, “Give him a camera and come back when you have a few photos, we will put them up in the gallery.”

I began photographing in earnest and all of my early photos were taken with that Canon AE-1 including the photo that became the cover of Pro-Fun magazine and the image that became a poster for the band The Brat by Richard Duardo of Aztlan Multiples.

Within a year or two, All Nations became a victim of budget cuts and the center was closed. Like so many organizations whose constituency is the under-represented, they often lack the political organization to be able to fight the good fight.

Several years later I came across a wonderful little book called A Guide to Architecture in Southern California by David Gebhard and Robert Winter published in 1965 by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The book was filled with the most beautiful photographs of buildings I had ever seen. This book sparked a fascination with architecture that continues to this day. In spite of its size (5 x 6 ¾”), the photographs made a lasting impression.

Every weekend I would take the book and ride my bicycle to visit some of the locations illustrated. Nearly twenty years had passed since the publication of the book and many of the locations were no longer in existence. I would set out in search of a home by Irving Gill located in my neighborhood only to be met by a parking lot, but other times my quest would be rewarded by an unknown treasure. I saw many buildings I never knew existed and others, that I knew well, I would come to see in a new light.

One of the buildings in the book was the Jewish Community Center at the corner of Soto and Michigan Avenues in Boyle Heights. It was then I realized that the All Nations Neighborhood Center had actually begun life as this very same Jewish Community Center. This also answered the question as to why the adjoining gymnasium was called the Max Strauss Auditorium. The book indicated that the architect was Raphael Soriano, one of the Case Study architects.

Not everyone knows that Latino Boyle Heights was once a Jewish neighborhood. In early maps I have also seen it labeled Brooklyn Heights, an obvious reference to the borough of New York. Cesar Chavez Boulevard is the former Brooklyn Avenue. The original Canter’s delicatessen was once located at 2323 Brooklyn Avenue.

I was pleased to know that as the neighborhood evolved from a Jewish neighborhood to a Mexican-American neighborhood the center evolved with it. It was also the site of a mural by the late Carlos Almaraz called No Compre Vino Gallo, a mural tied to the long and bloody United Farm Workers struggle and the decades-long boycott of Gallo wines. The mural had long since been painted over, but my friend Daniel had a photo of it so that I was able to see where it once was.

As my interest in architecture continued over the years, I learned that Raphael Soriano was recommended for the Jewish Community Center project by a photographer friend of his. The photographer had lived in Boyle Heights as a youth. In addition to the recommendation of Soriano, he also suggested that the building should contain a darkroom and gallery space for the exhibition of photographs. It may have been a strange suggestion for a community center, but Soriano included these in the plans and they were built.

I have no experience or knowledge of the community center when it served a largely Jewish community, I only knew it as All Nations. It is odd to think that the suggestion of a single photographer more than fifty years ago would impact my life so profoundly but it did. Photography was my entrance to the arts.

The photographer friend of Soriano’s was Julius Shulman. He died this past Wednesday at the age of ninety-eight at his home (also designed by Soriano) in Los Angeles.  I never met him but I always wanted to say something to him if I did. I believe it is never too late. Thank you, Mr. Shulman.

Ed. note: The Jewish Community Center/All Nations was demolished in 2006 without a permit for demolition.

Oinkster has recently been featured on a certain Food Network show and is now all the rage in the center of the Universe, the Eagle Rock-Glendale-Burbank area.

The Oinkster, a fast-casual concept from acclaimed fine-dining chef Andre Guerrero, invites diners to kick back and enjoy high-quality American classics in a relaxed, modern and fun environment.

via O I N K S T E R : a slow fast food restaurant.

Serving up burgers, house-cured pastrami sandwiches, rotisserie chicken, fries, and salads, the Oinkster is truly all-American cuisine…except the Belgian fries of course. While people rave about the pastrami, I think the stars of the show are really the fries and house made condiments. The Belgian fries are fresh and crisp, the chipotle ketchup is a nice way to get some smoke on your burger, and the Oinkster mustard MAKES the pastrami sandwich.

They also maintain a more than palatable tap selection usually featuring Stone’s Arrogant Bastard, Pale Ale, Smoked Porter, and a rotating tap featuring various craft brews. It’s also nice to see pitchers available as fewer and fewer places in LA are doing that. If none of that suits your fancy there are plenty of bottles to choose from too. Milkshakes are a must for a place like this and they’re good. If you’re a fan of Auntie Em’s, which is also in the area, then you’ll be glad to know that they cater desserts to Oinkster.

The service is pretty good, the runners are friendly and helpful, but one order is inevitably forgotten about when with large groups. That said, they are always quick to fix the problem. While there are indoor and outdoor seating areas, tables are limited and it is a royal pain in the a$$ to seat a large group there if it’s at all busy.

The Oinkster is a respectable establishment making almost everything in house and supporting local business as much as possible. The food isn’t mind-blowing nor is the atmosphere, but it’s a diner and it is certainly worthy of Gay Fieri’s lil’ show. It’s good ol’ fashioned American made with quality ingredients. Besides, the fries and beers are enough to get me (and many others) back through the door any day.

• Sometimes orders get forgotten in large groups
• Service is friendly and generally quick
• Difficult for large groups
• They use Carolina BBQ sauce so don’t expect the goopy stuff
• I hear a dirty rumor that they will be featuring Eagle Rock Brewery one day

rie and i took a small quick break from the home preparation work and spent a few hours at a guacamole festival in east LA on saturday 5/16/2009. on the way in, we saw some roosters, goats, and other little animals kids could play with. we also ate some carne asada tacos, some enchiladas, and some chicken skewers. the food was great…we later found out the skewers were bought from a pilipino restaurant. we also had some cervesa – tecate and a corona. the food was cheap and good!

we also got some entertainment – an oyaji band was playing some of their own original songs while also covering the doors, santana, and others. as we left, we saw two helicopters make circles around our block. apparently, the festival was surrounded by a car chase. my instincts were pretty good when we looked up where this festival was going to be. luckily, it seems that the runaway person was caught. although a little worried, i think we’ll be back next year!

sunday in socal:

susie and jared’s new digs in echo park!

(JEALOUS)

The plan.  Go to school and finish class at 2:00pm.  Head over to East LA to try a cemita from Cemitas Tepeaca which I read about over on York Blvd.  And then head on over to Irvine to meet up with some church folk for dinner.

Things didn’t go quite as planned.  I went to school.  I tried a cemita for my very first time.  And I did go to Irvine to spend some time with church friends.  I did all that.  But who would have thought that heading over deep into Orange Country from East LA at 3 in the afternoon would take less than an hour.  That gave me a lot of time to spare so I went to Strawberry Farms to hit some range balls.  The only reason why I bother to mention this is because at this pretty nice golf course, I saw two grown white men go at it.  Started out with some casual trash talking to an all-out fist fight.  Wow.

Alright, so with that irrelevant piece of information aside, I’ll talk about what I had over in East LA.  If I could compare the cemita to anything, it would be a torta.  I ordered the Cemita de Milanesa.  Milanesa is a breaded and deep fried cutlet.  So it was simple.  Sesame roll, the cutlet, avocado, these carrots and red jalapeno peppers (side note, don’t ask for them on the side like I did), and cheese… a lot of cheese.  The bread was pretty hard, unlike the torta.  I thought what made the cemita different was the peppers.  Despite it being red, I didn’t think there was too much of a difference from the green peppers and carrot mix you get at other Mexican places but it certainly was a nice addition.  The peppers gave a kick to a rather heavier taste.

But I noticed my cemita looked different from everyone elses.  Everyone else, when they bit into their cemita had strands of cheese coming out just like a slice of cheesy pizza.  Mine didn’t do that.  After I finished mine, I realized, everyone else paid a dollar more to get a cemita CON QUESILLO.  I guess it’s some type of Mexican string cheese but it looked better than what I had.  I need to remember that for next time.  Cemita de Milanesa con Quesillo.

Oh yeah, and I ordered a coke too.  And of course my coke was different from everyone elses’.  I was drinking out from a can while everyone else was drinking out from a bottle…  Soy un gringo.

<Edited 5/11/09> I don’t know what it was about today, but my Cemita experience was a whole lot different.  It was more like that described on York Blvd. than my first time there.  I ordered the Cemita de Milanesa con Quesillo with jalapeno.  The first time I was there, there was a bit of a communication problem in regards to the chile on my part.  He asked me what kind of chile and I said yes.  He paused.  Chipotle or Jalapeno?  Yes.  Hahaha.

Today the bun was a whole lot softer.  I tasted the papalo (if you’re not into the whole herby/minty thang, then don’t ask for it) which gave the cemita its own unique taste.  The quesillo was good, maybe a tad salty.  I got the Mexican coke.  I don’t know what it was, but I know it was better this time around.

Cemitas Tepeaca
E. Cesar Chavez Ave & N Indiana St.
Los Angeles, CA 90063