My L.A. Decade: Deep in the Heart of Texas or Dicks Out for Harambe

DISCLAIMER: i was delusional to think i would have time to write well-crafted, and thoughtful posts everyday for a month. It's not possible. i will likely be doing this until Aug. 7th 2018.

-dalex

Mmmm... smell that? It's that time of year again in Southern California where garrulous bitches of the basic persuasion are clinging to PSLs and pulling out retinues of fluffy clay colored boots. The oppressive sky fever known as "Summer" has broken and ushered in temperatures in the mid to low 70s and even occasionally the upper 60s. Every Target, CVS, and .99 Store unleashed upon their retail floors the sacred Halloween merchandise stock, and by now they're likely feeling the temptation to bring out wreaths, gift wrap, reindeer headbands, and inflatable snowmen lawn ornaments. 

i mean... Halloween is TODAY, guys. 

Even though autumn is typically the season of change that corresponds with death/the dead i actually now associate "fall" (CA doesn't get a semblance of actual fall until sometime in November though) with freshness, transformation, and new life bc when i moved here my life was at a pivotal juncture. I'd left my college town in IL and a barista / bartender position at One World® bistro for the promise of stardom and status.

Many opportunities and now memories came out of Octobers in my drive to make a name for myself in the world. i'm reminded of the evening drives up to CalArts for one-act rehearsal with J. Corgmatronic. Also, spending weekends in October years ago mentoring young lads in the theatre arts at Sunburst Youth Academy down in Los Alamitos. And then there was last October...

Here in L.A. there is a preternatural annual occupational enterprise that gives endeavoring actors, makeup artists, costumers, and hard core horror lifers a fluctuating, but steady paycheck for almost 2 whole months.

Last year in my transition between TV casting and the big black career unknown i found myself on a whim in a office space above Universal CityWalk with over a dozen other dudes taking our turn scaring a chair. That was the audition i had to pass to be a member of the "Pool" or Dead Pool as i think it is more aptly referred to. The "Pool" is a horde of scharacters (pron. scare-actors but meaning scare characters. FYI i am not the definitive authority on that nomenclature's spelling or meaning.)

Working Halloween Horror nights added new perspective to the term "Graveyard Shift". The day starts with a call time of like... 4:43pm and you usually get home at 4 in the morning, and then some Sundays after a long "week" you might find yourself out enjoying some diner treats at the Coral Cafe 'til the hour when all vampires must crawl back into their coffins.

My first day was actually spent going through all the mazes/zones. As it were there was an excess of pool people on friends and family night bc everyone hired in roles actually showed up to work. The lead who oversaw daily casting for the pool sent us out in groups with veteran scharacters to see the sights and screams of Halloween Horror Nights. Super cool. You're telling me i'm going to get paid to attend a theme park's Halloween event? i'm listening. ;) My Favorite maze that night was probably Freddy Vs. Jason. Great scares and neat innovative tech stuff to support the story and cast members. But by the end of my time at Horror Nights a much less glitzy maze would completely steal my heart.

The Purge tunnel was my first assignment as a working scharacter. A number of us were sent into makeup and wardrobe to wear very gore splattered red white and blue attire. Most of us were given props like bloody knives, baseball bats, and a couple of folks foam hammers. As i remember night 1 i was given a mask to wear which was AWESOME. No airbrushed face-paint to scrub off at 4am! Huzzah! The shifts were easy and the breaks lengthy. Perfect job. LOVED. Second day i did have to have make up, but was still in that zone. i'm telling you, we would walk around the tunnel for 45 mins, and then be off for 45 mins. UNREAL. MAX HAPPY. And at that time there was like little to no accountability to whether you were supposed to be on break or not. i stuck to my schedule for the most part, but sometimes i took a break a couple of minutes early...

The scares in the tunnel zone were by and large pretty fun bc you could just be walking behind someone and they would turn around and flip out. I had a penchant for ducking low and walking upstream against the flow of attendees which allowed the guests to hide my presence until i wanted to be seen ;).

After a couple of days in the pool and bouncing around some of the installations at Universal Studios and on the Universal Lot i was not sure i could muster the strength of mind to complete the run that i was hired for. Not like people quitting was uncommon... or at least i imagine it happened with some regularity after opening for the season. I mean, that's why the pool existed; to act as understudies temporarily or permanently for any role we fit the specs for.

But on day like... 5 or 6, i think, i was placed in a maze that may have been personally approved by the lord of darkness himself in his most philanthropic hour. That night I was assigned the role of CHOP-TOP SAWYER of which, i admit in that moment, i had 0 clue about.

The character was played by Bill Moseley who has a lengthy resume in the horror film genre. He is also near to my heart bc Bill voiced a creepy backwoods shop keep named Bernie in a spooky episode of the new Nickelodeon TMNT series. 

i was welcomed to the maze and given a crash course on how the maze worked and what hides my character worked from. i met a cool dude who helped me mucho, and i was generally pretty happy as there was a dedicated break area that wasn't just a few plywood walls put up that also functioned as stalls to direct guests through the maze.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Blood Brothers was a haven. The maze lead was a gentleman and his assistant Bryan also totally cool and wildly well put together. They kept the fraternity of goofballs that made up the cast of the maze in line with their courteous professionalism and it was amazing.

To Be Cont... 

My L.A. Decade: Home on the Range

For the record, Windows® is set up like a porcupine's sphincter. i can't figure out why anyone would choose to put their hands on a machine that runs this horrid system.

i left my power cable for my MacBook (a superior typing device) at home and am now at the bar i work at trying to play catch up as i was too tired last night to type up some words. i don't know how anyone uses a PC... i betchu the last time i had to use one was not too long after i moved out here actually! i did move to L.A. with the Dell i used in college and that sucker went into disuse when my first MacBook came on to the scene. 'Ole Dell sat around gathering dust until about last year because after cracking it open i couldn't figure out how to liberate the data pearl that was its hard drive. 

Aaaaaaanyway, i guess we got stuff to dive into and my past isn't going to relive itself... SO HERE WE GO!

Once upon a time in the untamed California desert there was a town with no mayor, no sheriff, and no Claire's Accessories Boutique called El Hollywood Norte. In the year of Twenty Ought something a band of rebels all hunkered down and settled this wild new frontier-land. Together they formed the Dude Ranch.

The Dude Ranch... my biggest regret was leaving the complex that harbored the first appt i lived in too early in my L.A. life. At 6736 Laurelgrove Ave. a young man's wildest dreams could come true and did regularly. Huge tracks of apartment living to be had, a swimming pool filled with leaves from overhanging trees, even a wily gun toting old building manager from Chicago; it had everything.

Gate Keepers of Cool

It was a place where anyone could be a dude. There were no rules, loads of F-Zero races, and Guitar Heroes packed to the walls. 

It was the perfect marriage of the Monkey Butler (don't worry i'll cover that soon) community and cheap living. In Apt 103 you had Josh Carver and myself. Across a "hall" that was just slightly narrower than my wingspan was Sean Hancock, Johnny C-Note, and Joe Clabby. But there was also a revolving door of recurring guest stars at El Rancho de Duderino. Pete "The Feat" Mitchell, Nora, Caitlin, Matt Hirschington, David LeCross, Matt Tate, Ryan Scott Self, Katrina "Outback Attack" Moore, Benjamin Phenjamin, Will "King in the North" Gatlin... i mean the list goes ON.

This place redefined what bohemian living meant in the modern era. pancake breakfasts were as common as mallet wielding Harley Quinn cosplayers at WonderCon. And usually "breakfast" meant 11am on a tues... bc that's the kind of bomb ass M'Fers we were.

Pancake Breakfast

We feasted regularly on Top Ramen, Sloptagons*, and Ikea Swedish Meatballs. Overwhelmed by the dignified fare you are, i'm sure. You must now be wondering what kind of cuisine the neighboring locale had to offer? Why the famous Del Taco! Oh, and Ralph's, but not the cute Ralph's with a sushi bar or fresh deli section. i once, after a late night of gaming and partaking in spirited beverages, famously drove into the all night drive through at Del Taco with Ryan Self and asked the attendant for a "box of crap", and she immediately knew that of which i spoke. It was wonderful. 

*The only edible menu item at Taco Bell; aka Crunchwrap Supreme. 

Apt 103 Studs

In our half of the dude ranch there were two couches we inherited. One a pristine white behemoth called The KGB on account of it looking like it had been purloined from the Kremlin, and a real comfort starved number that had a southwest inspired design we affectionately named The Trail of Tears.

We were a fraternity all our own. For people who likely were never in such an organization. 

Once we were throwing a party but i fell off a big pile of rocks and the party had to be canceled due to me being in the hospital and Josh coming to visit. This is totally not fabricated. 

i'm not sure what else to write about this glorious haven that was a moment in time... 

undeniably handsome men

i've heard rumor that you can still visit the Dude Ranch, and there are still folks Dudin' it Up over there. i don't know if it's possible to ever kill the spirit of the dude, which is why i am so honored to have been cog in that machine. 

<3 br="">

My L.A. Decade: Baby's First Bed

In what will be no where near as insightful or contemplative as my first 10 year retrospective post, i present to you my first L.A. bed. i couldn't help but mention this bc it is just so comical that i didn't feel the need to have an actual bed for at least 2 years. AT LEAST.

And here she is. Yes. i actually slept on this thing, and for much longer than i should have and probably longer than the recommended lifespan of said airbed. i purchased my "Air Cloud" bed from overstock.com at the suggestion of Ryan Scott Self ;) He was currently sleeping on one and raved about it... so i thought i might try it as well.

It was perfect bc i was decidedly not ready to commit to owning an actual bed yet, and this low investment option was easy to move!

The funny thing about this bed is that over time it expands to an obscene size. Presumably just via the daily re-inflating by the BUILT IN AIR PUMP. I remember Ryan's almost outgrowing his room in his first L.A. apt. It was MASSIVE.

Here's the link, but sorry guys... they're currently out of stock.

https://www.overstock.com/Home-Garden/Air-Cloud-Raised-Queen-Size-Air-Bed-with-Remote/2526907/product.html

Several years and a couple of patched holes later i had to part with this big maroon marshmallow. With amazing timing David LaCross asked if i knew anyone who needed a mattress as he was upgrading and had a barely used one lying around.

i took David up on that offer and Katie Self, at that time still Katie Moloney, let me tie that new (to me) mattress to the top of her Ford SUV and we drove it over to the first Apt Ryan and i shared on Bakman Ave in NoHo.

Looking back i don't know how i survived night after night and nap after nap on that thing. When we moved in together Kat got us a great memory foam mattress from a box and i could never think of resting on any lesser slumber pad.

Tin Year: A Decade in L.A. or How to Lose Your Teeth and Follow Your Dreams

Well, shit... it's been a minute.

Sorry for the pause, but i've been distracted, i guess.

This month, August, marked the 10 year anniversary of my relocation to Los Angeles, CA. As i reflect, it has been bittersweet to say the least. Mostly sweet, but as i've gotten older i've felt things slipping.
 

(-ism Tour w/Camera Shrapnel Fall '07)

Right out of the gun, things don't feel the same, which is to be expected. Things change. I've changed.

i am in no way where i expected to be at this point in my quest for fame and social change or whatever, but for better or worse i am still here. i've had one career already that i've since tossed off like a winter coat in a raging brush fire for a stab at a much riskier one. The one i moved out here for in the first place.

The sixish years i put into TV casting couldn't kill my optimism or hubris about the eventual reality of working as an actor on the TVs and the Movies. Seeing a steady current of actors come in to read for us and watching many of them be average or even totally suck only fueled my belief that i could do this. In truth: it's really not that easy, and it's not any easier when you're a bearded, pierced, balding hipster.

"i should have kept with it when i was younger," is my constant mental soundtrack. "i'm too old for this shit now." "It's more competitive than ever even though there are more outlets for content." "You should move to Atlanta, NY, or somewhere you can do theatre and make a name for yourself there."

"Never be the first in line to shit on yourself in this town," i try to tell myself, but God DAMN is it hard.

Maybe it's my fault though. Because i don't carry myself with the same carefree nature of a 20-something anymore. Just like Agent Mulder looked very different in the 6 episode X-Files event season that came out last year from the idealistic FBI rogue we first fell in love with back in the '90s. With age comes perspective and skepticism... (yes i'm totally fine using the fictional character Agent Fox Mulder as a basis for comparison here.) i wonder what it is i think i have to lose... what is holding me back?

Some of the change comes via the fact that i have just been exposed to more than i had been a decade ago. Some also comes from having to let go of God. i realized the more time i spent away from the culture of the Christian church the less sense it made, and the more fabricated it felt. No disrespect to my friends who still subscribe and participate, but honestly stepping away opened up my eyes a lot more than being in the church ever had. To clarify: i'm down with the concept of being accepting and selfless toward everyone who is not you, but we all go to sky palace hallelujah camp after we die? That i just can't buy. 

i saw Erwin McManus, lead pastor at Mosaic, drive his convertible Porsche into the underground parking structure at L.A. Live/Staples in DTLA and thought to myself, "Fuck this shit." It rubbed me all the wrong ways bc what i saw that night looked nothing like the persona of Christ i heard about from many people along my spiritual odyssey, including him. The problem is not a luxury sports car and basketball tickets, but more what they represent. The need for things. i'm not asking Erwin to be a monk, but maybe i expected more... or less i should say. That wasn't the singular moment that killed it totally for me, but it didn't help either.

The death of Monkey Butler was a nail in that coffin too. i made my exit from teaching officially before the church laid its most promising ministry to waste, and ultimately the Monkey's leaders took the fall for them.

Then i read "Under the Banner of Heaven" and everything made sense. When you see the recorded moves a charlatan made to gain and hold onto power as well as steer the reigns of people's minds you really see evil at work. Fuck Joseph Smith, and every sap who has ever used his made up b.s. for their own gain or in the name of their Lord.

The one thing i do miss is hope. That's the biggest thing Christianity has going for it. Even if i can't believe it to be true anymore there was something magical about hope. That's everything the gospel hinges on. Hope that everyone will be great and serve each other, hope that God will give you great "blessings" for being faithful, and hope that the afterlife will be amazing.   

All that to be said, when i realized i'll be dirt when i die it  really changed how i dialogued with my own inner voice, and gave me a kick in the ass and a NEED to make sure i did something with my short life. 

This city has changed a lot too...

Weed is pretty much fair game, finally. 

We have things like Uber and Lyft now... that's great for jobs, and a responsible and somewhat affordable option for people to find a way home when out having a weekend...  or a Tuesday.

Airbnb showed up, and is probably causing more harm than good in our fair city where i see homelessness very visibly growing, especially in Downtown L.A.

i've lived in the Valley, NoHo specifically, the entirety of my L.A. life. I've now watched the inauspicious knickknack shop and small house theatre filled sanctuary turn into the premiere destination for pie seekers and recent college grads whose parents like to pay their rent.

i really feel like an old person when i'm looking around the world, my world, and think things like, "what the hell is music anymore?" i see kids walking around in Def Leppard, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, Poison, Nirvana, and Iron Maiden tees that trendy fashion store X is hocking knowing full well that they have never listened to any of "...And Justice for All", don't know which came first Nevermind or In Utero, and guaranteed have never seen any of these legends in concert. And i am the one who feels out of place wearing this reprinted Nirvana tee even though i was cherishing every lyric recorded from Kurdt's mouth closer to when he was actually living than any of these kid's first birthdays are in relation to his last breaths back in 1994. (This is just me feeling entitled, but it was an observation i had that i thought was worth mentioning.)

Just a few years ago i recall seeing Flobots at the Key Club on Sunset. Sadly the Key Club is nothing like it's former self. And that is just one example of how the landscape of the music scene is changing and rock and good live music seems to be on its deathbed.

i'm not going to even get into politics bc none of this is why i'm actually writing in this blog for the first time in SIX YEARS. i stopped bc in the social media fuckfest of today i began to see an ocean of voices spouting copied predictable feelings and opinions that were either devoid of fact or just pointless, and that silenced me. i didn't want to be another proclaimer of vain information.

i feel like i lost my voice, and my sense of self despite the fact that i have a steady income and am responsibly participating in the longest running healthy relationship of my adult life.

So what now? Who am i a decade later? i am still finding out. i should probably go to therapy... Maybe i'll be able to squeeze that in soon. i'm pretty stubborn though so i'm not holding my breath.

i've decided for now to remind myself about what i love about myself by posting a little something everyday for the next month. To celebrate relationships formed and goals crushed during my time here in the desert of fame and misfortune, and to stoke a more fervent thankfulness i think i have lost somewhere along the way.

So to start. i want to thank David F. Escobedo for taking in a newcomer to L.A. and making me feel like family. Camera Shrapnel was something i needed and felt alive in, and sadly also took for granted.

Thanks to Mario, Mindy, Rob, Ryan, Thomas, Lindsay, Sabrina, Josh, Corey, Philip, and i know i'm forgetting someone... for being a loving landing pad in a new city.