Chronicles of Crazywood: Easter Madness

Chapter 1

Everywhere you turn in L.A., people are going fucking nuts. I’ve always been convinced this city drives people mad.  I can cite hundreds of examples of this phenomenon and I’m sure the stories will all come out over time.  The problem for me is not lack of material; the problem is that every day I am flooded with an even more hilarious demonstration further illustrating this theory.

My best friend--we’ll call him Loki--and I were just talking about this the other night driving through Hollywood on the way to shoot some pool.  I was telling him how much I loved L.A. and how it was great to be back and how much it feels like home….Here’s how the scene plays out:

Loki:  Yeah, but you know this is the honeymoon phase right?  In about 3 months you are going to hate this place.

Me:  I know I know.  But I know what to expect from L.A. now.  I know that when I start to feel that way, I just need to get out, take a break and when I am feeling refreshed-- dive back into the madness.  L.A. is just fucking nuts!  I love it!  Every time you turn around something completely insane is happening.

We approach a light and stop.  As I am finishing the sentence Loki and I turn to our right to gaze at the homeless guy sitting at the bus stop.   At that exact moment he begins convulsing; it is a weird slow motion seizure, his arms and legs flopping like a person getting their heart zapped.  This goes on for a minute and then, just like that, he stops moving, slouches over to the side, head cocked to the right, tongue hanging out, blank eyes staring into the void.  The light turns green.

Right on cue.  It may be one of those “you had to be there” moments, but I would spend all the money in Beverly Hills to have that performance on film. That bum’s comic timing was impeccable.  Loki and I start laughing hysterically and I don’t stop until we get to the pool hall.  I laugh myself to sleep that night thinking about it.  And even now as I write this I can’t help but chuckle on the inside. 

This photograph is another classic example of why I love the City of Angels. 


I spotted this nut job at an intersection on the PCH.  I was on my way up to Malibu for a lovely Easter BBQ/pool party.  In between spurts of screaming and pointing at cars he was struggling to tear an American flag in half.  All you could hear were angry tangents of gibberish followed by grunts and the tearing of cloth—he was really fighting to tear that sucker apart.  And the fact that it wasn’t going easily further exacerbated his frustration.  It was hilarious.

Judging by the tattered American flag tied to his stolen Albertson’s storage-on-wheels, this street performance is one he acts out frequently.  This is often the case with the crazy homeless population inundating L.A. And not even just the homeless. Everyone has an act.  Everyone has a hook. Everyone is perennially auditioning for that divinely ordained moment the hotshot director appears and they are discovered. Even the crazy bums have a monologue prepared, a scene perfected.

Unfortunately, this is inevitably what happens to many of the lost souls who migrate to L.A. filled with high hopes and dreams of seeing their name in the stars.  When and if they don’t succeed, they end up acting on street corners for the rest of their lives and screaming at bushes.  Sadly, the closest they’ll ever come to the stars is when they are sleeping on Hollywood Boulevard. Let this be a warning to all the people out there who are thinking of moving to Los Angeles solely to become famous:  THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU.

Looking at the price of gas in the background I can kind of understand where he’s comin’ from though.  Sometimes out here in Cali when I’m fueling up, I feel like taking the pump and sticking it directly up my ass—cuz that’s where we are all taking it in this state when it comes to the cost of gas.  That combined with the increasingly bad traffic is enough to drive anyone nuts.

But that’s what I love about L.A.  You never know what it holds in store for you around the next corner; success or ruin, love or despair, exhilaration or defeat, enlightenment…or insanity. And for all I know, I’m sitting at a bus stop, right next to the guy having a slow motion seizure, waiting for the next ride to Crazytown.