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| A Luna Blued |
| A woman food reporter\'s contemporary noir search for the perfect combination of love, art, photography and food in Hollywood, Los Angeles California. She searches for her dreams in the City of Angels and finds darkness and trouble as well as cuisine, men, friends, politics and adventure in the sprawling metropolis. |
| Language: English |
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Statistics |
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| Total Unique Visitors: 0 |
| Visitors Out: 47 |
| Total Visitors Out: 47 |
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| Oxtails |
| 2008-06-19 13:14:21 |
I woke up sweaty as the sun hit noon… thankfully alone in my bed. I kicked him out about a quarter to three, him and his oyster creme. It was all going swell until he wanted to know whether me downing two-buck Tikka in a strip mall joint was some kind of childhood dream.
Now, I [...]...
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| Later That Night |
| 2008-05-16 12:27:23 |
I watched her from the shadow of the Bluebird Cafe, watched that low-rent dame walk away… straight to Domingos back door. Yeah, it was locked, I’d seen to that myself but what did she want to score? They didn’t serve food, they were barely open and their beer was never cold. Time to find out [...]...
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| Prowler Point of View |
| 2008-03-30 18:21:41 |
I remembered her from the Froo Pool Room, long legs, great smell, doubter’s scowl. I wanted to take her home right then; hear that laugh all night; hear that howl. Then she nailed the scent of my duck dumplings and I knew she was a pro. Time to go. Her two-buck Tee said she didn’t [...]...
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| Oyster Crème |
| 2008-03-03 16:49:10 |
Trouble comes for many at night… last night it came for me. I had just ordered ox tails from Madame Matisse and I was waiting for a late night delivery. I turned on the player and poured a tonic with Rose’s Lime. The Sister’s Of Mercy sang about the Temple of Love and Ray wailed [...]...
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| Hunger |
| 2008-02-12 13:59:00 |
There’s a stench in the sea just south of Imperial Beach, where the border fence slices the Pacific. It used to come from Tijuana sewage but I found out that now, it’s from something far more horrific.
Jojo Valdez used to surf “The Slough” where the Tijuana river pours into the ocean. Waves are rough, even [...]...
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| The Back Door |
| 2008-01-27 21:41:56 |
I used to live in an 8X10 room half dream below the Hollywood sign. Eight hundred a month for a killer view and a twin bed and mini-fridge were mine. But at four bits a word to rhyme plum sauce f**k with tea soaked duck, I couldn’t afford the rent. A friend of a friend [...]...
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| George |
| 2008-01-15 22:13:30 |
I needed coffee. Bad. Two hours sleep and the aftertaste of MSG and beer was wilting me in the New Year’s sun and it wasn’t even seven A.M. I turned off Sunset, down to Temple and First, praying the Tropical Cafe was open. It was. Barely.
My sometime-friend George was blending a mango smoothie for some [...]...
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| Resolution |
| 2008-01-02 08:18:31 |
I woke up over some dim sum dive next to a truck-built hunk of a man. A strawberry sweated on the floor. Neon sputtered through a piercing dawn and I remembered the night before: It had started with some spicy garlic prawns at Madame Tu’s on First. And ended here, twenty-six steps above, in an [...]...
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| Four More Tamales |
| 2008-01-01 08:35:06 |
Four more tamales at Taco Town; two more shots of knock-off Commertivo…one more late night graze of two bit Pork Buns and this year will finally be over. Yeah, I’m working tonight as the confetti falls and Champagne flows through the gutters. Just trying to make a buck as the world vomits up the night [...]...
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| My Sister’s House |
| 2007-12-24 10:31:08 |
December twenty-third, almost Christmastime… the garlands hanging over the boulevard still glittered through a layer of L.A. grime. I’d eaten my last cheap taco of the season, written my last lurid line: “…for a man and a meal, tasty and cheap, eat at Joe’s and bring your own wine.”
Now it was time to go home. [...]...
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| Fung Chow Chuck’s |
| 2007-12-17 09:09:38 |
Fung Chow Chuck’s had a two buck Pao and a mean little Wor Won Ton. But I was interested in the meat at the bar. He had a cold San Miguel, arms that could shield you and Glint in his eyes that said “Let’s go far.” I took a seat. His fractured smile encouraged me [...]...
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| Firestone Boulevard |
| 2007-12-03 13:35:09 |
A few years before my sister died, she saw God and his dog in the parking lot of a MacDonald’s on Firestone Blvd… bought him a quarter-pounder, fries and a coke, too. For all her troubles, she had an ease with faith I never knew.
Unlike God and most business men, “Everybody wants to change the [...]...
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