A Strange Night in Westwood

June 25th was a strange night to be in Westwood, and I have to admit it got my journalist blood pumping.

Not only was there a fervent Iranian protest, but it was also the day Michael Jackson died at the UCLA Westswood hospital.

I went to participate in the protests, but clearly there was no way I could be just blocks from the biggest story of the year - the death of the most famous person in the world - and not go and check it out.

More on MJ in a minute, but first the protest.

The protests caused a storm of emotions to brew inside of me.

On one hand it was deeply personal: the regime is the same government that forced my family to flee Iran 30 years ago. I was six months old at the time.

But on the other hand, I have in a large part shunned the reality that I am half Iranian. I reject many of the cultural practices, the language is a second tongue to me, and I generally avoid large Iranian gatherings.

This confusion of rejecting a culture, yet longing to fit in came to the surface at this protest.

I separated myself from my cousin and waded into a crowd who had circled around a young man with a bullhorn.

The young man, his voice hoarse from several nights spent screaming into the bullhorn, lead the crowd in chants. My voice mingled with the rest of the crowd:

"Natarseed, Natarseed. Ma Hame ba ham hasteem!"

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! We are all together!"

As I said these words, I grieved for my family and my dad in particular, who feel such a tragic sense of loss over what happened to their homeland 30 years ago.

I looked around and saw people of all ages -- children, college students, working adults, grandparents. The crowd was probably 95% Iranian, but there were a few Americans as well.

By 11 p.m. the crowd began to disperse. People released their green balloons, a gesture for those who lost their lives at the hands of the regime.

The protest concluding, I decided to go over to the UCLA Medical Plaza where Michael Jackson had died hours earlier.

If a story in my city makes international news, I want to be there to see it for myself.

Anyway, just as I suspected, a large crowd had congregated outside the medical center. It was a much different crowd from those who attended the Iranian protests.

These were people of all different races. Some were UCLA students, others were older fans who probably remembered MJ from his heyday in the '80s.

To be honest, they were all a little bizarre--about what you'd expect a hardcore MJ fan to be.

And what a media spectacle it was. Probably a quarter of those assembled were journalists. I remembered thinking, God, I hope nobody sees me here on TV and thinks I'm one of these crazed fans.

Multiple helicopters circled overhead. Boom microphones and bright stage lights illuminated the grounds. Expertly-coifed men in suits interviewed those at the scene.

The energy was an odd mixture of party atmosphere and solomn reflection. It demonstrated to me the very different ways people grieve.

I wandered around and was shocked to see people wearing T-shirts that read "Michael Jackson: 1958-2009." The man's body wasn't even cold yet and somebody was already capitalizing on his death by selling t-shirts.

One man, a boom box on his shoulder, pushed through the crowd. His speakers blared Beat It.

Spontaneously, people in the crowd began to dance. Everyone sang the words to the song. Someone else in the distance led the crowd in a chant of "Michael, Michael, Michael".

My curiosity satisfied, I decided it was time to leave. Ten minutes later I was home, my mind swimming about what a strange, strange city I live in.

Life is Short, Live it Up

A few years ago I was driving to work, counting down the days 'til the weekend. It was an early week day, Tuesday or something, and I was thinking, "God, I can't wait for Friday...I hope this week goes fast."

I started to think about how most people probably feel this way about their life rythym -- working for the weekend, so to speak.

Suddenly it occurred to me that so many of us are wishing our lives away. We pray for time to pass quickly so we can get to the good stuff, not comprehending that we are speeding through youth, vitality, and life itself.

In essence, we're missing out on the big and small treasures each day could hold, by zipping through them at mock speed.

It was an epiphanous moment, and since that time I've really tried to make each day count, as much as I could.

We're all invited to this banquet of life, and I personally want to try as many tastes as I can before they make me leave.

It might be a bit morose, but all this news of governments murdering their citizens, planes crashing, and celebrities dying made me think about just how short each life can be.

Work Last Friday

All in a day's work:

Bridge to Nowhere Hike

Yesterday I found myself knee-deep in chilly, mountain river water on the Bridge to Nowhere hike.

This nine-mile round trip hike is one of the best I've been on in California. You've got a little bit of everything - rocks and boulders, a mountain stream, gold panners, fly fishermen, and of course the innocuous Bridge to Nowhere.



Oh, and did I mention bungee jumping? It's the only site in Southern California where bungee jumping is allowed. None of us participated but it was fun to watch.

The Bridge to Nowhere was built in 1936 when there were plans to make a mountain road from San Gabriel to Wrightwood. The project was abandoned before it was completed due to wash-out from river flooding.

So you literally have this man-made arch bridge in the middle of nowhere that leads to nothing - a dead end. You can reach it only by hiking.

We started out at about 9:30. It was a temperate, grey morning - perfect for hiking. It wasn't long before we came to a river crossing -- our first of many.


I started out trying to gingerly step on slippery rocks, but the water was just too high, so I eventually gave up and made the plunge -- knee-deep into the river water, socks, shoes and all.

We had to cross the twisting river probably another 20 times that day. It was a lot of fun!

We reached the bridge around 12 pm and had a little picnic down below on the boulders near the river. A group of bungee jumpers threw themselves off the bridge - their screams and laughter echoed through the canyon.

Here's a shot looking down from the bridge.

These guys are panning for gold. Uh, didn't anyone tell them that the California Gold Rush ended 160 years ago?


On our way out:

More information: Modern Hiker

Celebrity Sighting: Taye Diggs

This is an old one, but I forgot to post it. Saw Taye Diggs (the 'love interest' in How Stella Got Her Groove Back) coming out of the pit at the Earth Wind & Fire concert in New Orleans a few weeks ago.

I saw this girl earnestly trying to snap a photo of him. Me, being oblivious to all celebrities, had no idea who he was. "Taye Diggs" she told me. So I shouldered my camera and snapped this photo.

Now that's a good looking man.

Celebrity Sighting - Nick Lachey & Matt Leinart

It was a TwoFer at the Parlour in Santa Monica on Friday night: Nick Lachey (Jessica Simpson's ex) and Cardinals' QB Matt Leinart.

Both were irresistibly handsome in person. They were watching the Lakers with a gaggle of what was undoubtedly USC sorority girls.

This raises an interesting question - are ALL celebrities friends? It appears so. It's like this secret society, like the Illuminati or Free Masonry. They all seem to know each other and party together.

The rest of us are like the great unwashed.

Anyway, we stood behind Matt at the valet later that night. He didn't take any of the girls home, at least from what I could tell.

Happy JazzFest

JazzFest was an amazing experience. It's been awhile since music made me feel that good. During JazzFest the whole city seems to be swept by that feelgood attitude.

"Happy JazzFest!" strangers on the street will say, as if it's your birthday.

The fairgrounds in midtown are a 10 minute cab ride from the French Quarter where we were staying. Stages are erected across the grounds and dozens of singers and bands perform each day.

Our first day we took it easy and camped out at Congo Stage. This stage is named after a part of the city called Congo Square where freed slaves used to congregate 150 years ago on Sundays to play music and dance -- probably the birthplace of New Orleans jazz and zydeco music.

We saw reggae band Third World and later Erykah Badu. She was fro-licious. I'm still trying to figure out whether this is her real hair, or a wig.



The next day was a tough one because there were so many good bands to see. For instance, on Dave Matthews, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Etta James were all playing at the same time on different stages.

I was really torn about what to see, but my course of action actually worked out really well. I started the day in the Blues Tent where a local band called the Ebony Hillbillies were playing.


Then we caught a little bit of Better Than Ezra - they were somewhat disappointing so we didn't stay too long. We got some food, hung out at the Congo Stage listening to some local band, then made our way towards the throngs of people waiting to see Dave Matthews.

I wormed my way through the massive crowd until I was about 30 feet from the stage. The energy up there was amazing, especially while he was singing Marching Ants.


We stayed there for about an hour and then hustled across the fairgrounds to the Gentilly Stage to see Etta James. What timing...five minutes after we got there (and I again wormed my way to the front) Etta belted out "At Last". For being 71, she's still got it.


Etta finished up the song and then proclaimed, "Beyonce, that's MY song!" to the delight of the audience. She finished her set shortly thereafter, and I raced back to the Congo Stage to catch the end of Earth, Wind & Fire (by now my friends and I had gotten separated).

Now emboldened by my crowd-worming techniques, I decided to take it one step further. Actually, a woman standing next to me suggested that if I wanted to take pictures I should jump the fence and get into the photographer's pit right below the stage.

So that's exactly what I did. Nobody was looking and I pushed the fence open and siddled right through. I didn't have the badge like others, but I find if you act like you own it and you carry a large enough camera, people tend to believe you have a right to be where you are.

Earth, Wind & Fire were awesome. These guys have been around since my parents were in college and watching them on stage, you would think this was the first time they were performing for a big crowd. Such energy and passion.


The crowd was a mix of black and white, young and old. And everybody was getting down, having a good time. Their show ended and with it the fairgrounds were closing too.

I didn't want to leave, but I guess that's a good way to end anything....wanting more.

Adventures on Bourbon

The aptly named Bourbon Street is the main strip through the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Loud, thumping house music bursts out of clubs with neon signs.

Broken beads lay unclaimed on the road. Some are stuck on electrical wires or trees. And as I learned, you don't really have to do much to get some beads.

Drunken revelers hooting and hollering from the balconies overhead throw beads at anything that moves.

Nothing seems to close, ever, and it's never too early for a morning eye opener.

Despite its fame, I found the main stretch of Bourbon Street to have the least soul of the city.

It's not horrible, but you'd do better to go off this beaten path, even just a couple blocks, where the drinks are cheaper, the clubs are more interesting, and the people are nicer.

We went twice to La Fitte's, a Bourbon Street bar, but far away from the main stretch. Named after the New Orleans pirate Jean LaFitte, legend has it that this is the oldest continuously operated bar in America.

The interior is lit solely by candles, illuminating the rustic brick facade in a hazy glow.

The candle flickers bounce off dark bottles of rum and vodka. You can almost imagine sitting beside Jean LaFitte and his rag tag crew downing pints of brew.

Big Easy

New Orleans has the festive, all-hours debauchery of Las Vegas, but it's Sin City with a soul. As one traveller I encountered this past weekend explained, "The energy of New Orleans is pure."

It's not manufactured or sanitized. Layers and layers of history-some good, some bad-give it an authentic texture that new cities like Los Angeles and Las Vegas can't touch.

You walk down a street in the French Quarter and jazz music spills out of windows in dark bars and alleyways, regardless of the day or time.

Sometimes the bands set up shop righ tin the middle of the street. A single musician and his harmonica, or a four-piece band with tuba, trombone, fiddle, and drums.

Here are a few of my favorite street musician shots:

Back from New Orleans

I must have been seriously PMSing on my last post, "People to Hate". So as promised, I will follow it up with something a little more light-hearted.

How about my trip to New Orleans for JazzFest??

That city inspired me. It was a sensory symphony of smells, sounds, tastes, and sights (I could add 'touch' in there too, but this is a family blog after all). And it all came together to create a perfect masterpiece.

Imagine savoring grilled oysters drenched in butter sauce while listening to the sweetest, soulful jazz musician standing on the corner of a 350 year old street. Beauty abounds, and you don't know what sensation to enjoy first, so you do it all at once. Pure bliss.

I can't decide what I liked more, the food or the music. Rest assured that I indulged in both until the mere mention of the word 'jambalaya' made me nausious, and I turned the other way when I saw a brass instrument.

Actually, I didn't really get sick of the music because it's so varied. But the food...well, let's just say I was happy to get back to a diet that included leafy items.

So with that introduction, watch for some New Orleans posts and pictures.

People to Hate

It's been awhile, I know. I've had lots to say but fortunately for you, dear readers, I've been venting verbally to everyone around me (sorry, co-workers) instead of in the blogosphere.

See, the thing is, these are really fucked up times. And I sure wish everyone else around me would go ahead and get as mad as me. There are so many people to hate right now. This might end up being a negative post, so I promise I'll follow it up with something more positive.

1) Wealthy, Wall Street trash. I put these greedy bastards somewhere between the decaying pig's feet in the Chinatown dumpster and the sewer rats feasting on them. I say throw these elitist, arrogant, inept bankers and CEOs right into that trash heap, three-piece suit and all.

I hope and pray for a fast economic recovery, and I'm tired of seeing friends get laid off and good people lose their homes. But this country needs to take serious inventory of its values. All this consumerism and bling-chasing. I think the only way real change is going to happen is if we have real hard times and an economic revolution.

Obama slapping 20 executives at each bank with a $500k salary cap isn't going to cut it.

I'm not calling for a guillotine, but I think those French peasants were on to something 200 years ago when they booted the boujies out. Some of these men deserve prison time, or at the very least, a forced career change.

2) Cheaters. Bernie Madoff is a good example. How do you get away with a scam that spans 40 years and involves $50 billion? Abraham Lincoln was right. The bigger the lie, the more people will believe it.

Of course, the real inspiration for this "Cheaters" category is Alex Rodriguez, Yankees third baseman who admitted this week that he used 'roids. The entire sport of baseball has been sullied in my opinion by the dishonesty of its players.

Well, A-Rod isn't as dispicable as Barry Bonds who still thinks the world will believe his hat size doubled over the course of a year or two from a mid-30s growth spurt.

3) Octuplet Mom. I don't necessarily hate her, as much as I pity her 14 children. This just seems like a blatant disregard for personal responsibility. You have six kids and are living on food stamps...why would you purposely add to the mouths to feed?

And I get that she had a troubled childhood and was looking for stability by creating her own family. But is that the best frame of mind in which to raise children -- hoping they will fill your own emotional void? Seems kinda selfish to me.

OK, done venting for the moment.

Doc Brown as Ebenezer Scrooge

When you go to see theater in LA, you expect it to be good, right?

It's not just because we're in the heart of the tinsel town, where everyone's a critic and standards are set high by a tough crowd.

But when the theatrical production you're seeing is being performed in the same theater where the Oscars take place, and includes a cast of noteworthy actors like Christopher Lloyd and John Goodman, you expect to get your money's worth.

So we went to see A Christmas Carol tonight at the Kodak Theater in downtown Hollywood. It was enjoyable but (and I'm being kind here) there were a number of mistakes and technical glitches that made the whole thing feel like community theater gone bad.

Props didn't operate correctly, stage backdrops were incorrectly placed, the sound from the speakers was fuzzy, and in at least one instance a character wasn't even on stage when his presence was referenced.

Doc Brown (aka Christopher Lloyd) played an okay Scrooge, and towards the end when a final stage technical miscue occurred, he did his best to ad-lib the situation to the delight of the crowd.

But honestly, most of the performances felt as though they were phoned in. It actually occurred to me that the play had only been rehearsed once or twice. The whole thing had no pulse, no vibe.

We attended the opening night performance, so that may explain some of the problems. I just hope they get their act together for the rest of the nights.

Anyway, it was cool to finally check out the Kodak Theater, where the Oscar Awards take place every year. I couldn't help but wonder whose famous ass had sat in my seat at last year's award ceremony.

P.S. And I finally found out what Daphne from Frasier is doing these days--she's playing Mrs. Bob Cratchit.