LA Story: The Walking Man of Silver Lake

Walking is so unusual in LA that when someone does it regularly, that person becomes a local legend.  Last spring, while driving to Trader Joe's, Alex and I saw a short, Snooki-tanned older man, in bright green shorts walking while reading the paper.  While returning from the store forty minutes late rwe saw the same man still walking.  We had no idea back then that he has been walking this  20 mile-ish route since the 80's and was known in the neighborhood as "Walking Man."  Walking Man, or Marc Abrams was featured as one of LA Weekly's People of 2009.   In Brooklyn, we had many local heroes but none were celebrated for their athletic prowess.  There was "Bumps," some guy who lived McGolrick Park, and after years of alcohol abuse, no longer possessed balance...or pants; "Stop N' Shop," some guy who drove his fellow drunks around n a shopping cart; "Greenpoint Admiral," some guy who always dressed as an admiral; "Greenpoint Cowboy," some guy who always dressed like a cowboy; and "Starter Jacket," some guy  who always hung out in our laundromat  always wearing a Starter Jacket.  I can't remember his team allegiance. 

Last week Marc Abrams was found dead in a hot tub (such an LA death).  Today his death was ruled a suicide.  He was under investigation because his medical practice was allegedly a Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory for prescription drug addicts (such an LA abuse of power.).   This past Sunday, 400 people memorialized Walking Man by walking his route. There's something comforting about local celebrities, they give a small town feel to a giant urban sprawl.  Bars and restaurants come and go, people move in and out of neighborhoods, sights and sounds from outside whiz by your car window as you're running late to something, months go by before you see your next door neighbor, but it's nice that there's one constant you can depend on seeing everyday: a tiny man in tiny shorts speed walking and speed reading at the same time.  This same man might have abused his privilege to practice medicine by enabling deadly addictions, while battling his own demons of depression and suicide attempts.  The story of Walking Man gave a neighborhood joy and a common bond.  The possible reality of Marc Abrams is a sad portrait of destruction and isolation.  So LA. 

I'm leaving my couch for Say Something Funny...B*tch!

I'm a weekly columnist for a great blog featuring women comics and writers, Say Something Funny B*tch! For my column, Laura Mannino Has Left The Couch, I write about different events around LA, which what I should've thought for this blog instead of waiting around for something to happen or to do something or have an opinion about something. Here's my first three columns! Check out SSFB every Saturday for a new post!

• Flights of Fancy: Thursday Night Wine Tasting at Silver Lake Wines

• Before McGruff the Crime Dog: 19th Century Children’s Book Illustrations

• It's Like A Logline But a Few Thousand Words Longer: Reading of LA Literature

If you'd like to check out some past posts, this time with correct grammar and tighter sentences, check out my profile on Funny Not Slutty!

LA: This Week In Crowds

This week Angelenos got out of the cars to stand around for various reasons: to celebrate the West Coast's version of the Yankees, to buy phones that don't actually work as phones, to mourn a dead celeb, and see celebs that play the undead.

LA Vacation Suggestions 1: Obama Family Edition

The First Lady and First Grandma at the Staples Center last night.

LA is all 'a-Twitter" about the First Lady's family trip to LA this week. The First Family has been sighted at Luques, Pink's, and Pizzeria Mozza. I wonder if Mrs. Obama received a similar scolding like I did from the server at Mozza for bending the binding of the wine list cover. Mrs. Obama was also at last night's Game 6 of the NBA Finals. Many were wondering if the First Lady was rooting for the Celtics or the Lakers. I hope she was rooting for the Clippers. I'd like to make some suggestions for the rest of the Obama family's trip:

• Robin Hood British Pub in Sherman Oaks: The quality of the website says it all. This place is as authentically Briitsh as the off-duty cop patrons are authentically Irish.

• That Pupuseria next to the Auto Body Repair place on Temple and Figueroa Streets in Echo Park: The Obama Family's parade of black SUVs are bound to get scratched in this town. While the car's bumper is getting a touch up, I recommend grabbing a pork rind pupusa.

• Tang's Donuts in Silver Lake: Yes, it sounds like a porn set in a donut shop. It's like naming a salad place, "Taint's Tossed."

• Blue Goose Lounge in Hollywood: There's no windows, the entrance is a heavy, rusted door, the bathroom smells like mildew, the taps don't work, there's a bunch of mismatched sofa strewn about for that "burnt-out Levitz showroom" feel, and whatever you do, don't get the tacos. Aside from that, its lovely. Keep in mind, the rave reviews on Yelp are probably written by 22-year-olds.

California Field Trips #4: Laguna Beach

We stayed at The Pacific Edge

Views from our balcony

See, it's art because it's expensive.

Over Memorial Day weekend (and my birthday) Alex and I went to Laguna Beach. Alex actually surprised me and during most of our time in the car, I had no idea where we were going. The time we were driving on south on the 110, I thought to myself, "Well, maybe there is a fabulous spa in Compton." We found ourselves in Laguna Beach. The beach is beautiful, the town is quaint, and there's nothing remotely LA-ish about it. I can't really put my finger on why something is and isn't LA. I didn't see anyone working on a screenplay in the beach shack coffee shop next door or any 50 year-old men in Ed Hardy t-shirts. Laguna has same sleepy, beach-y feel of Hawaii. Everyone eats between 6-8 PM, falls asleep by 10 PM, and wakes up 5 am to engage in heavy recreational physical activity. There's an interesting blend of residents in Laguna Beach: wealthy professionals, retirees, and art population that serves the wealthy. professionals and retirees. On every block there is an art gallery, art classes or school, shop, ceramic studios, and jewelry stores. The art is very specific rich lady art: a lot of stone sculptures of voluptuous lady figures and jewelry made up of giant, mother of pearl slabs, all marked up 300%. The art scene seemed really active and vibrant and I'm sure there's amazing work that's not being marketed to tourists and the nouveau riche. I was on the prowl for the new cast of Laguna Beach, but didn't see one self-entitled, beautiful teenager traipsing about. Maybe Lauren and Lo and crew got MTV's attention only because they were the only teenagers in Laguna Beach. The only teenager I found was a Justin Bieber-ish naïf that showed us to our table at my birthday dinner. Maybe Laguna has some revered Children of the Corn policy. See, now that's a show about Laguna Beach!

Shitcanned-tivities #6: Naps

Take naps. Do you remember when you were working and you'd crave chocolate or coffee at 3 PM, anything to help you make it to 5PM? You'll begin to feel that way about naps. There's nothing that beats the 3-4 PM Oprah nap. Well, maybe a paycheck.

LA vs. NY: You've Been Served

Classically trained.

I was strolling with a friend after brunch (yes, people walk in LA...around The Grove) breaking down the different status items that define the social climbing ventures of the women in The Real Housewives of Orange County and The Real Housewives of New York City. How big is your McMansion? (Vicki's "Land of the Lost" inspired backyard grotto) vs. How big is your McCharity? (LuAnn's "Give Your day-old Gucci to Poor People" Party). In so many ways New York and Los Angeles are interchangeable and constantly compared. Both cities share a population of power-hungry, status-climbing, star-fucking, dreamers that shuttle to each coast to hang with whatever city gives them their next ego fix. Also known as Show Business. LA is an outer, outer, outer borough of NY, just northwest of its outer, outer borough, Florida; and NY is the Emerald City just beyond Bakersfield. There are definable priorities among the moneyed, consumerist elites of both towns. Sure, you need a fabulous designer bag in LA, especially if you’re a Second Wife of a Studio Exec that Lunches in Beverly Hills. In LA, no one cares about the name on your purse quite like the name of your yoga instructor, or Pilates instructor, or your Yogalates instructor. In New York, it's whose party you're invited to and who you're wearing. In LA, it's whose vacation home you stayed in and who rejuvenates your vagina. In New York, it's how expensive you look. In LA, it's how much money you spent to look like you don't care. What defines your social status in LA the most is who and how many serve you: personal trainers, stylists, shoppers, assistants, concierges, organizers, dog walkers, groomers & whisperers, spiritual readers, life coaches, relationship coaches, gardeners, estheticians, and event planners. How many people do you pay to ensure your personal well-being? In LA, there's an onslaught of professionals offering personal services. This all exists in New York, but I didn't feel its presence as strongly as I feel it in LA. Why? Because in LA, what else are out of work actors going to do after they quit? Sure, there's plenty of out of work or former actors in NY, but there's plenty of office buildings that need temps. In LA, once you spent a year in Coffee Bean with your laptop being your own "boss" and "writing" your script, there’s no going back to a 9 to 5 cubicle world. If you can't make a small business as an actor, you can make a small business of teaching actors how to make a small business as an actor. Or you can do this.