I’ve been hosting various people at our place so it’s gotten in the way of creative efforts, but it’s been a great time. My mom had a conference at Sony so we drove down from the bay area together on Wednesday. It was a relaxing drive where we chatted the whole way and watched the sun set over the hills. My mom wanted to stop at Harris Ranch for steaks. She didn’t remember the name of the place, just asked for “that famous steak place where everything smells like cow poo.” I knew that meant Harris Ranch. It was the first time I ate there as well and true to rumor, the whole place smells like pungent cow export, which kind of made me feel a little weird. The steaks were very good, but since I’ve been eating really healthy, I wasn’t able to eat very much of mine.
The next day, my mom had a meeting so I dropped her off and took Michael to get my car washed and to get him a haircut. Usually I tell the stylist how to cut it, but I figured I would let him do it himself. It just felt right.
When he was done, she’d cut it really short, almost like a crew cut. I freaked out inside because I knew my mom would freak out and ask me why I didn’t supervise. I asked Michael if he liked it and he said, “Yes,” so I didn’t want to be a jerk about it. But I was laughing because I knew how mad my mom was going to be (as predicted, as soon as she saw him she turned to me and asked, “How could you let him do that to his hair?” I told her, “It grows on you. It’s the same cut Brad Pitt had in ‘Ocean’s 11.'”)
My mom had a room at the Beverly Hilton, paid for by Sony so Michael wanted to stay with her. It was going to work out because Rie and Eric were going to stay with me that night, on their way to Coachella. Beverly Hilton is about 2 miles from my house, along the same street Michael used to walk from my house to my work so while I was dropping him off, I joked that if he got bored, he could just walk back to my place since it was off of the same street. He said, “Because it’s not that far, right?” I said, “Just a few miles. It’s not that far.” But then I remembered he takes everything I say seriously so I added, “I’m just kidding. If you want to come home, call me and I’ll come pick you up.”
So that night, I was waiting for Rie and Eric and rolled up a blend I wanted to try out. It’d been a couple of hours when I get a call from my brother. He asks me if I can do him a favor and I think, oh crap. I’m so not in the right state. He asks me if I can bring them some toothpaste. I ask him if he can just get it from the hotel. He tells me that the store is closed and they really need it. Since I rarely say no to my family, I figure, maybe this is a challenge from the universe, so I’d better suck it up and do it. Besides, it’s 1 street, 2 miles. I just have to stay close to the speed limit and be alert.
So I’m driving and everything is fine though I’m pretty sure I’m driving with my eyes bugged out. I’m okay, since it’d been a few hours since I’d smoked. I hit a stop sign and I’m trying to figure out which way would be the best way to go, when I turn and notice, there’s a cop behind me. I’m freaking out, racking my brain to remember if I’d made a full stop but I can’t remember. So I’m driving and this cop is behind me and I’m starting to freak out but I’m trying really hard to focus.
The cop stays behind me, ALL THE WAY into the driveway of the Hilton and I’m thinking, dude, he wouldn’t pull me over in front of a posh hotel. That would be bad for business. All of a sudden, I notice, the places is fucking swarming with cops. Turned out, the Hilton was hosting a Sheriff’s Convention that night but I took it as a big freakin’ joke on me by the universe. Delivering toothpaste down the street. I should have known it was a setup.
So I’m all paranoid and freaked out, and sure that anyone who sees me will know I’m in an altered state. The valet comes up and gives me a ticket but I calmly tell her that I’m just dropping off toothpaste for one of their guests. So she reaches out her hand and I hand her the toothpaste and we both kind of stare at it confused, but then she says, “No, uh…I just need the ticket back.” “Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” Finally my brother comes down and I damn near throw the tube at him and take off, not saying hi or giving him a hug…just shoving the toothpaste at him and saying bye over my shoulder as I run back into my car.
I drove so slowly home, probably looking at my rearview mirror as much as the road in front of me.
The next day, I wanted to take Rie and Eric to brunch. I had told Michael to call me when he got up, but since my phone hadn’t rung, I figured he was still asleep. I didn’t realize I had left my cell in my car. As we were getting into the car, I heard my phone ring. It was my mom. My super hysterical mom.
“Did you know your brother’s walking to your house right now?”
“WHAT?!?”
“I just called him to see what he’s doing and he said he’s walking to your house.”
“WHAT?!?”
“WHY IS HE WALKING TO YOUR HOUSE???”
“I joked with him that he could yesterday.”
“YOU BETTER GO GET HIM!”
I think it’s funny but I’m also panicking. I call him on his cell.
“Uh, Michael….where are you?”
“I’m walking to your house.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did. I left three messages.”
Oh crap, I’m such a bad sister.
“I’m coming to pick you up now, okay?”
“Okay.”
Then something disturbing occurs to me.
“Are you walking in the right direction?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay, are there any restaurants or places around you you can tell me the name of?”
“No.”
“Do you see any street signs?”
“Curson.”
Curson? I think that’s in Beverly Hills?
“Okay Michael, stop walking, I’m going to pick you up.”
I put in Curson in my GPS and it says it’s 4 miles away. I check my cellphone and realize his last call to me was an hour and forty minutes earlier. I start to panic. I call him back.
“Michael, what’s the cross street?”
It takes him some time, then finally…
“Wilshire.”
Christ, he’s walking into the heart of the city, in completely the wrong direction.
“Do you see any people you can ask for direction?”
“I see a Ralph’s. And an Ihop.”
“Okay, go into the Ihop and stay put, okay? I’m on my way.”
At this point I’m pretty sure that Rie and Eric think I’m an awful sister and a retard since it’s turned into a rescue mission because I’d joked with my brother to walk home the day before. I GSP Ihop and the next one indeed is 4 miles away. I call them just to check the cross street, that it’s close to Curson. I call the guy and ask, then ask him if there’s a large Asian man who looks slightly lost. He keeps asking me, “What?” but I hear Michael in the background coughing so I tell him, “Nevermind” and hang up. It felt good that at least I knew where my brother was.
I hit every red light and was so mad. I was trying to get to my baby brother! Finally, we found the Ihop and Eric jumped out to get Michael. He had his suitcase and a shopping bag with his stuffed dolphins and I felt miserable that he’d walked halfway across the city like that. If my mom hadn’t called me and we’d given him another hour, he would have hit Koreatown from Century City. That’s so fucked up.
I took them to Toast on 3rd St. where everyone working and eating there is an actor or industry type of some sort, but the food is good. I introduced Eric and Rie to red velvet cake, which I’d been craving. They left for Coachella shortly afterwards.
Later that night, we picked up our mom and went to Orris on Sawtelle in West LA, a Japanese tapas place I’ve been reading a lot about on Chowhound. We had a one hour wait so we browsed the stores on the stree
t. I tried on a top and came out of the dressing room and asked my brother how it looked. He’s known for giving very straightforward answers. “You’re asking me because you would want me to tell you if you looked fat, right?” he asked. I started laughing.
“Definitely,” I told him, thinking crap. I must look fat. “You don’t look fat at all. You look great,” he said.
Poor kid. I think my mom gives him such a hard time about “being fat” that so much of his head revolves around that. I’ve been trying to get her to change her outlook, to not make it about all things revolving around fat (ie “Don’t eat that because it’s fattening,” “You need to lose weight”), but about healthier living (ie “Fried foods aren’t as healthy” “Exercise is good for our health because it’ll make us feel better”). I don’t want my brother to feel bad because he’s overweight, much of it he can’t help because of what his medication does to his metabolism. I want him to feel encouraged to make positive choices and confident in being able to take good care of himself.
I offered to take our bags back to the car and when I walked by this karaoke bar, the security guy watched me walk by and said, “You’re awfully happy.” I laugh and tell him, “I’m just a happy person.” Lately, I definitely have been. Though I suspect most people would also be happy if they didn’t have a job. I also credit B vitamins for turning me from a moody tweaker always on the verge of an anxiety attack, to a people-loving hippie.
Orris was good though not mindblowing. The tuna tartare on endive dish was probably the best, while the sauteed scallops were good. The fried stuffed squash blossoms were interesting if not a little greasy, while the fried chicken with curry dipping sauce was…fried chicken with curry-infused dipping sauce. Nothing spectacular. We got some fried anchovies that I suspect none of us liked but we felt obligated to semi-finish, and the quail was savory but again, not mindblowing. I equate it to what a Bruckheimer movie secretly is to me. I enjoy it while I’m there, but two weeks later, I can’t tell you anything about it. I also get a little bored with the fried tempura style of several of the dishes.
Speaking of fried foods, I do have to give a shout out to Kyochon for Korean-style fried chicken. They’re known for frying the chicken first in oil, then in butter, which makes their food the queen sluts of all sluts. I usually order their wings which are overpriced but unbelievable. They offer original and spicy, and while I love all things spicy, their spicy version is a bit like the sauce for sweet & sour pork which I hate, so I highly recommend the original which is crispy and garlicky with just the right hint of sweetness. Extremely addictive and they will put you in a fetal position with guilt if you’re on a diet.
Sunday night was a crowded house with my family at my place and Eric and Rie returning from Coachella, dirty and full of stories about camping in the dessert and Prince. Eric almost caught a sweat towel that Prince threw but was knocked down by someone lunging. I told him he needed to learn how to box out. You bend your knees and stick out your ass, I told him. If you’d done that, Rie would be having her way with that towel right now.
We stayed up talking on my front balcony, the one that faces the Mormon Temple. We realized that the statue at the top points in the direction of the Scientology complex, and maybe this is a big war between religions. Considering the area around the Mormon Temple is well-kept, safe and upscale while the Scientology complex is in the middle of a crack jungle, I would say the Mormon’s are winning. I’m glad I’m behind their lines. I do have to tell you that the thing looks like a radio tower though. The way they looked in 1950’s sci-fi depictions. I’m pretty sure they’re trying or are actually getting communication from god or whatever greater being is out there. I spend many nights sitting out there, staring at that thing, wondering what actually goes on in that building.
Rie and Eric took off the next day after lunch and homemade ice cream treats at Milk. I am still in pursuit of a 4-pack, but ever since a Chinese guy told me that it’s very hard for Chinese people to get stomach definition, I’ve been struggling with focus. Had another great day with my family including a nice “miss you guys” email from my dad, and my mom left the next day.
There’s talk again about me moving to San Francisco. My dad found a condo in the city he wants me to look at, which I’ll do next week before I head to London. I’m still not willing to give up my home in LA though. That night, sitting on the balcony with Eric and Rie, looking out at the temple and laughing and feeling good, I realized that this place is my castle. However I feel about religion, at night, that temple is lit up like a piece of art, a symbol of hope and inspiration, and in my gut, I know that living so close to it in such a safe, peaceful environment is a huge factor in my ability to have overcome the demons of my past and become the person I am today. I’m willing to share it’s beauty with others I trust, but I’m not willing to give it up. I’m hoping I can find a way to have the situation I would like, to keep this as my home base, my energy source, while still being able to live part-time in other places so that I can expand my horizons and social circle while gaining life experience. This is what I hope for.
