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Charles Bukowski Los Angeles Tour (Hollywood and Western)
07.23.2009
03:53 pm

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History

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Charles Bukowski

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I love Los Angeles, I am an Angeleano by choice and forever shall it be. I’ve lived in New York, London and Amsterdam but Los Angeles is my favorite city by far. It’s great here!

I am also a big fan of the writings of Charles Bukowski. The city of Los Angeles is practically a character itself in all his books. As unique as Bukowski was, of course, he was very much an “LA character.” It’s hard to imagine him existing anywhere else. This video, one of 52 shorts made by Barbet Schroeder in 1985 as part of “The Bukowski Tapes” sees Buk taking the camera on a tour of his favorite dive haunts in the section of town near Hollywood and Western.

Approximately ten years after this was shot, I myself lived on this particular corner for a period of about two months (don’t ask!) and although it had been cleaned up quite a bit since 1985, it was still pretty horrific. The first night I spent in the hotel where I was staying, a man was shot and killed outside my window. On another occasion I had to sleep in the bathtub because a shot had been fired right outside my room. I figured I’d be safe from stray bullets in the iron tub. The corner had an all night hot dog stand (seen in video) beside a porn store that was also open 24/7. Tranny hookers that were over six feet tall and didn’t pass strolled the area.

It was, as one friend of mine put it, like an early Funkadelic album cover had come to life. Take a look for yourself:


Via The Rumpus

Thank you Michael Kurcfeld!

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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Pink Floyd Jammed Live While the Apollo Moon Landing was Broadcast on the BBC in 1969
07.21.2009
09:05 pm

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History

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Pink Floyd
David Gilmour


This really happened!

“It was fantastic to be thinking that we were in there making up a piece of music, while the astronauts were standing on the moon. It doesn’t seem conceivable that that would happen on the BBC nowadays.” —David Gilmour of Pink Floyd

No shit! This is amazing!

My moon-landing jam session by David Gilmour

Thank you Chris Campion!

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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Dear Friends: American Photographs of Men Together 1840-1918
07.18.2009
09:08 pm

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This is an exhibition of photographs of men in strikingly affectionate poses. Although it includes a wide variety of photographic formats - from early studio tableaux to later casual snapshots - one thing unites all these images of unknown men: the emotional bond shared between the sitters. Confronted by such demonstrative images of men posing arm in arm or gazing into each other’s eyes, the contemporary viewer is left to wonder about the affection they shared, and about the meaning and purpose of the photographs that survive. Were these long-dead sitters friends or relatives, colleagues or lovers? In all likelihood, we will never know. And perhaps that doesn’t matter. One aspect of photographs that makes them so compelling is that they can generate so many unpredictable meanings - this despite their capacity to record their subjects in vivid detail. Thus, the physical expression of love between the men in such pictures is bound to provoke profoundly different reactions, depending on the viewer’s gender, sexual orientation, race or class.

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Dear Friends: American Photographs of Men Together

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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The collapse of Soviet communism never relegated Marx’s ideas to the dustbin of history
07.18.2009
08:59 am

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History

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Karl Marx
Communism
Socialism
John B Judis

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The New Republic’s always brilliant John B. Judis wrote an excellent short essay in last month’s Foreign Policy that everyone should read. I could not agree more with the sentiments here:

In 1995, a magazine published by a conservative Washington think tank brought together a group of writers and scholars to debate a question that seemed to have a foregone conclusion: ?

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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John Lennon on Monday Night Football with Howard Cosell (1974)
07.18.2009
08:06 am

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History

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John Lennon
Beatles
Howard Cosell


I like how he’s confused by the rules of American Football. I doesn’t make any sense to me, either, and I’m American… (HT Mikki Halpin)

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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When Andy Warhol Died
07.15.2009
09:00 pm

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History

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Andy Warhol

image I remember vividly when this cover story from New York magazine originally appeared just three weeks after Andy Warhol died. As a New Yorker myself at the time, it truly felt like it was the end of an era and this article really brought the point home for me. I kept it for years and for all I know, it may still be sitting out in the garage.

After Warhol died, New York’s fabled nightlife took a nosedive (there were other factors, too, of course, like AIDS). It wasn’t like you’d be able to see Warhol at a party, a fashion show, a night club or a restaurant ever again and think to yourself “Oh, Andy’s here. I must be in the very best party in the world tonight.” That was what Warhol’s stamp of approval meant to New Yorkers. His presence made you feel cool. I met Warhol several times. When I’d tell people I was going to move to New York City, they’d ask me what my plans were and I’d say “Oh, you know, meet Andy Warhol, hang out at the Factory and something cool is bound to happen.” I actually believed this as an 18-year old!

And as fate would have it, on the very first night I spent in New York, at an opening party at the Area nightclub, the infamous homicidal club kid king, Michael Alig asked me if I’d like to meet Warhol. “Sure!” I replied and Michael proceeded to shove me—HARD—into the artist, nearly knocking him down. Warhol just shrugged it off and blamed Michael anyway as he’d seen the whole thing go down.  After that incident, I’d run into Warhol every few weeks and I’d see him (usually with Cornelia Guest) often at Limelight, the nightclub where I was working. But when he died so suddenly, I can’t stress this enough, it was like a pall had come over the city. It was a real turning point, for me anyway and New York would just never be quite the same ever again.

The first sign that there was something wrong with Andy Warhol, that he might be a mortal being after all, came three weeks ago. It was a Friday night, and after dinner with friends at Nippon, he was planning to see Outrageous Fortune, eat exactly three bites of a hot-fudge sundae at Serendipity, buy the newspapers, and go to bed. At dinner, though, he felt a pain. It was a sharp, bad pain, and rather than let anyone see him suffer, he excused himself. And as soon as he got home, the pain went away.

“I’m sorry I said I had to go home,” Warhol told Pat Hackett a few days later as he narrated his daily diary entry to her over the phone. “I should have gone to the movie, and no one would ever have known.”

In fact, no one remembered. And if anyone suspected trouble, it was dispelled the next week by Warhol’s ebullient spirits at the Valentine’s dinner for 30 friends that he held at Texarkana with Paige Powell, the young woman who was advertising director of Interview magazine by day and Warhol’s favorite date by night. Calvin Klein had sent him a dozen or so bottles of Obsession, and before Warhol set them out as party favors for the women, he drew hearts on them and signed his name. On one for ballerina Heather Watts he went further, inscribing the word the public never associates with Andy Warhol: “Love.”

The World of Warhol by Jesse Kornbluth, from the March 9, 1987 issue of New York Magazine.

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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