Water Lilly Alley

WLAPEDIA: Our Lady Of Macarena

Our Lady of Macarena, also called the Virgin of the Rave is the West Coast’s most beloved Almost Virgin. Known in Los Angeles’ Wilshire District (Home of the Beverly Hills’ set) as Ravito.  Our Lady of Macarena along with Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears is celebrated nightly in such clubs as the intimate new Sunset Boulevard lounge Hyde, the Kress, the Green Door and without fail at Joseph's and Crimsons.

The Almost Virgin of Macarena is a cultural symbol of significant importance to the paparazzies, for it is they, that benefit most gloriously in the religious glow of the underwearless lascivious saints of the night.  One direct shot of the promised lands and a paparazzo could be set up financially for life.

So the next time you’re in church and have to say penance for your indiscretions, ask the priest to set you out with Ravito, it will make the morning most pleasurable.

Ernesto

People always ask me what kind of childhood I had. Was I like other children; was my imagination as  active then as it is now? Did I play with dolls? (That one always gets me) What was it like growing up in the 50’s and then teen aging out in the 60’s? Did my formative years play a role in my photography today?

Well, honestly, I don’t know if I was like other kids. Most kids at that time hung in groups, played flag football, joined little league teams, became cub scouts, boy and then onto eagle scouts. They were taken and picked up from school, had their own bedrooms. They had new school clothes throughout the school year and had birthday parties with more than one guest and so many presents that they never got around to playing with all of them.

So, in reality perhaps I wasn’t like others, yeah I joined teams: a detective team, an army ant team, a cherry bomb dismantling team, and I once I even joined an Apache tribe. I was the first kid on the moon, then Mars, Saturn and finally set up a colony on Neptune and like most kids, I had to be in before dark. I didn’t hang out in groups, cluster or packs made up of kids. I didn’t have inspirational role models.

I basically had two friends: Angelina, tomboy extraordinaire, she agreed to help do the cooking on Neptune. And Mark Cook, Mark was what we know today as a nerd or geek. Back then he was the kid that hung out with Alvin. But Mark was cool. He spent most of his time drawing army tanks and executioners, complete with axes on his book covers. He had his own room and just about every Rat Fink plastic car model every made. We used to hang out a lot but neither of us never said much. A typical conversation consisted of.

-Hey what do you want to do?
- I don’t know, what do you want to do?
-I don’t know…
-Hey, wanna go look for soda bottles?
-Yeah, I’m busted I could use the money.
-cool.
-I’ll go get Angie.

So it was no surprise when I came across this shot last weekend: Like most kids back in the day, they had imaginary friends… Mark and Angie were not imaginary; they were and probably still are as real as you and I. But Ernesto was as I came to find out as I got older: imaginary.

Mind you now. At ten years old, being a square peg in a round world it’s a good thing to have a tree friend.

Some things never change.

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Photo taken at Verdugo Park Glendale Calif.  July, 2008
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And It Just So Happens.

Friday night I’m over at the local Best Buy spending money on electronics that I really don’t need in order for feed an addiction that I’m not worthy of. Dr. Phil would call this somewhat of an personal emotional void.  But then again, Dr. Phil isn’t really a doctor, just like Gumby isn’t made of clay but some kind of flexible plastic with a wire running throughout for structure.  Yeah, life is full of illusions where  the color is really bad - And the themes are just infantile and no matter what you do that is just how it is.

So I’m in Best Buy, standing in the out-line when in walks Darlene Ditz the new age millennium mother with son in tow.

In tow.

At first glance I notice the kid has a stuffed monkey on his back. Was this an omen of things to come for the little crotch cricket?  My angle of inclination led me to Harrison’s “Me and My Monkey” and yet upon closer inspection - because a kid with a monkey on his back requires further inspection, my thoughts wandered: Drug addiction, a financial, physical, mental, and moral responsibility; a strong addiction that one spends most of one's energy to support and without drugs an addict feels weighted down and depressed. The addict carries an extra burden; it may be a large or small monkey--some have a $100-a-day monkey, some the cost of a pack of cigarettes chimp.

Actually that is not how I reflect but after unscrambling my thoughts that is how it comes out. Wonderment, I know. And then as a matter of fact I had to ask myself with earnest: Just how much could a kid’s monkey be?

Turns out that the monkey was just a very clever ruse on the behalf of the new millennium mother’s over-protectiveness.   For upon closer examination  the monkey’s tail was about five feet in length and attached to the mother’s wrist.

Not a tail at all, but a harness mind you, completely colored with echoes of ‘ A dingo ate my baby’.

Surely there is therapy in this kid’s future.

Now I’m not saying that back in the day was any better than the here and now but when I was growing up a parent could pull out just about any kind of switch, stick, belt or paddle and discipline their kid in public for wandering off out of eyesight and no one would think a thing about it. And yet, if they had their kid harnessed or tethered, two things would come to mind:

One - Don’t get too close because the damn thing may bite.

Two – Inbreeding.

When I was a kid aout that age while out with mom at the local five and dime one thing I do remember was her leaning down into my kid space and hushing in a very sweet and all knowing voice and saying: "Stay close, cuz’ if  I can’t see you, then when you DO see me you’ll wish you didn’t." 

Thoughtful and to the point and very effective…

But for now, back to Best Buy and Little Stevie Irvin.

This kid must have been about 3 years old or perhaps a bit older, it was hard to tell how old he was with a primate on his back and all, but I’m figuring  3.

And yes, in my view 3 is pretty damn old to be still tethered to mommy, and yet in the same vein one must realize that some men are never released into the wild. 

His *ahem* monkey left me wondering if holding hands or putting little Stevie in the toddler compartment on the shopping cart would have been a better idea.  A good rule of thumb is that if their legs can fit though the flip down leg placard then they are still capable of sitting in the cart.

And  just how long will the kid will stay monkey tethered to mommy. At 3 one would think that that the kid would notice most other kids are rope free.

And just how many times has another kid come up, taken in the whole picture of a possible new friend, and in about a two seconds have little Stevie all excited about the actions figures in the next isle and without thought coaxes little Stevie into joining him in the next lane and about at seven feet down the pathway his new possible playmate magically backflips onto his ass.

And what about his first girlfriend?  “Steve, I really like you but my girlfriends are beginning to talk…  any chances of you dumping Curious George?”

Talk about therapy?  Either that or it gives you some insight on what kind of men grow up to watch Dr. Phil.

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Photo taken Thanksgiving Day 2008 - My Grandson Cole.
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Damn It.

Damn it!

Get back on the blanket.
You’re the one that wanted to come to the beach, not me.

I’m telling you…

Don’t make me take this snorkel off.

Toss me my swim cap, I don’t want to get my hair wet.

When your dad gets back tell him to wait right there with you for me.

You’re lunch is in the picnic basket. Don’t touch the Snickers, they’re mine.

The sandwich bag of Captain Crunch is for your dad.

Ok, now don’t wander off… I’m going to try and find your brother,

I told him not to go too far out so I shouldn’t be but a few minutes.

Do you remember what he was wearing? I think he had the orange trunks on, right?

Oh… and when your sister gets back, make sure she doesn’t steal any of my cigarettes, there’s a dollar in it for you.

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Photo taken at Catalina Island: Unknown subject.

Angelina

I remember when you told me that the only way GI Joe could win the war was for him to come in shootin' and screaming from behind the wheel of a Tonka truck.

That bacon wrapped around a baseball glove, tucked into a wonder bread bag and left on the roof for three days would guarantee a soft catch for the season.

That bullies had a weak spot and as disgusting as it was, all you had to do was grab it, twist and hang on.

That girls also had a weak patch, that it was a bit higher and could turn on you if one weren’t careful.

But what I remember most, was sitting on the curb under the glow of a summer street lamp, lighting Styrofoam cups on fire with wooden diamond matches and spelling out Jenny and Mark or was it Danny and Angie: Love hissing in droplets of flame before being called in for dinner. Yes what I remember most was the surprised look on your face when I began telling you about doll heads, wonderful, wonderful doll heads.

Sooner or Later

Things to take to the cemetery for a photo shoot:

Camera
Tripod
External flash attachment
Memory cards
Lens cleaner
Extra lens.

Light meter

iPod with the complete Don Giovanni,  Madame Butterfly
or perhaps the extended version of Visions of Johanna.
A ham and cheese Sandwich
Bottle of green tea

A few childhood memories
or the best times of
a use to be lover.

Pencil.
Pad
Compass

And if you’re going to be there
all day…
gloves
hat
scarf

and maybe a thought or two
of the ocean…

Shovels are optional.

Sidestep

This has been one hectic month, not to mention the other 10 leading up to it. And I do think this will go down as one my most challenging years yet, However we will discuss that on the next post.

Yet, some good has come along as well. The second week of November found me in  Montreal , Canada visiting the very lovely Pauline, you may know her from her work over at Obstination.

It was a great visit and yet I didn’t really get down to any of the local attractions as one might expect. I didn’t visit Montreal's great Biodome, didn’t make much of the nightlife, casinos, or jazz clubs. I didn’t catch any of the museums. However, I did make it to my favorite eatery though. A little underground niche called “Forget” Yeah, that’s what I thought as well, However, Pauline was a good sport and we were able to spend most of the entire week driving, tramping and getting lost in some of the best cemeteries I have ever come across bar none. Notre Dame Des Neiges cemetery being my favorite.

In fact that little adventure turned out to be a two-day fun festival in itself. The great thing about Norte Dame –if one can call it a blessing - is that cemetery personnel have been on strike for the last several months - (Guess they were having a harsher year than yours truly.) - and so the grounds were completely overgrown and very *cough-cough* lush. Which made for great photography.

Is it just me or do other people look up the local cemeteries of their final destination as part of their vacation plans?
That would be nice to know…

However it was not all fun and games… Being the spiritual person that I am I did venture to the top of  Saint Joseph ’s Oratory of Mount Royal Church with its basilica dome soaring 318 feet into the sky, just so that you know…

Saint Joseph ’s Oratory is one of the worlds most visited shrines. Second in height only to Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome, the church is large enough to accommodate up to 10,000 worshippers.

10,000 Go figure… I guess that’s why Celine doesn’t have concerts on Sunday… who would show up when they could just hang at the Basilica

Really this place rocks and has it’s own hill. Well, the only hill.

Legend has it that if pilgrims walk up the entire length of the stairs to the top they will be cured of their ailments… and I must say there is some truth to that because when we got to the top I was cured of any extra energy and vitality that I may have had stored up for the day. Coming down was no picnic either. No wonder Catholics spend so much time on their knees… they are freaking tired. Worn out.

Anyhow…

That was my trip in a nutshell. Spent November 21,22,23,and 24 with my kids and grandkids as what we have come to know as “The Valles’ Annual Dead Bird Society.” It’s something we as a family have been doing for the last ten years. Prior to that in November we were just a mess of variable scatterings. Some here. Some there. Some Lost.

So as the patriarch of this great family I decided we could use the historic onset of fall and autumn (also known as Black November) as a reminder that we as a country once took great pride in the slaughtering, pillaging and land robbing of countless, yes, countless American Natives as a touchstone for a family get together… I know it sounds a lot like Thanksgiving but we do it without all the fru-fru and lies that most of Americans sit down to in appreciation of what they have. And hope to get.

Well, it’s been a tiring week, month, year, day and my fingers are not used to this keyboard yet, so tomorrow boys and girls we will employ my venture into what has now gone down as The Procedure.

See ya then.

Having It All.

I caught this little ditty on the Associated Press wire a few days ago.

PROVIDENCE, R.I. --A lesbian couple married in Massachusetts should have the same right as heterosexual couples to divorce in their home state of Rhode Island, lawyers for the women told the state's highest court Tuesday.

Cassandra Ormiston and Margaret Chambers were married in 2004 after same-sex marriage became legal in Massachusetts. Last year, the couple filed for divorce in Rhode Island.
Rhode Island law is silent on the legality of same-sex marriages.

If the women can't divorce in Rhode Island, their lawyers said the only legal avenue available to them would be for at least one to move to Massachusetts and live there long enough to obtain a divorce.

Now, if that don’t beat all. First of all I must point out that this was not a very well thought out plan on their behalf. Because I’m sure as the sun rises that they more or less fought and marched in order to raise America’s awareness on same sex marriage.

And I’m also sure that they believed in their heart of hearts that most people who marry do so with the notion that love will conquer all. And that THEY as understanding adults will avoid the wrath of the divorce dragon by all measures no matter what may fall into their little pixie dust layered cornucopia of love.

Personally I think the gay community, like the rest of us should have the right to marry. However, the entire nation must be on the same page and allow for same sex marriages, if for nothing else just to let the gay community get a taste of what the rest of us go though and more importantly, for the right to divorce.  I mean how freaking weird is it that a few states will allow for marriages and yet others won’t?  If a couple is not recognized as married then how in the hell can they achieve divorce? Yet… if the state doesn’t believe in same sex marriage then don’t you think they WOULD allow for a divorce to take place so as to right a wrong in their (the states) small thinking world.

The way I see it is that everyone should bear the right to endure the beauty of marriage as well as the misgivings. However, to lock one into this outdated institution without a way out when the both parties basically can’t stand to be in the same city with one another is completely inhumane. It would be like living one’s life in a vat of hot dog water… forever.

Well, just to be on the safe side I’m filling this little note under… ‘Be careful of what you ask for.’

You know… just in case.

Letter To Jesse

Dear Rev Jesse Jackson.

There are some things, not many, that really bite ass with me and you just happen to be one of them. So don’t take this personal, just take it. I mean where in the hell do you get off with saying that Barack Obama is not black enough to head this country? First of all George W, Bush of this posting has not proved to be smart enough to assert the position of president and yet he is. But dumb is dumb and nothing says ignorant more than “one is not being black enough’ or as you so well put it in regards to the six black juveniles’ arrested on attempted-murder charges in Jena, La. that Mr. Obama is “acting like he’s white.”

 

Then you had the gall to say ““Jena is a defining moment, just like Selma was a defining moment,”

 

Now hold on a minute Mr. I marched with Martin Luther King and held him in my arms as he lay dying. (I did my research and YOU were there but you were not the one holding him as he lay dying.) But, let’s not split hairs instead let’s review a simple fact, just one fact, not two, five or seven, just one:

 

Selma vs. Jena.

 

Prior and up to the mid 60’s African-Americans were mistreated, beaten and more than not, lynched just because they were black. That my friend, must I remind you, was a way of life for many black people that stepped up and tried to make something of their lives not to mention the countless others that were just there being.

 

Yes, it was the civil rights movement that changed all that – and that movement was black and white, brown and yellow, red and just about every other shade in between. It wasn’t just a matter of people being black enough. I think you are losing sight of what really was. Does the concept of compassion come into play for you at any place in your brave new world? If so then how in the hell can you come off saying that Senator Obama “is acting white” because he is taking on issues of heath care, the elderly and the war in Iraq instead of a high school skirmish. True, this high school braw have been a little overwhelming for the city counsel but we have a war going on, kids starving, adults starving, we have the homeless, we have people dying from diseases that could be easily taken care of with proper available medication. We have a nation in need of a real leader.

I agree with you that suspension of the white kids from school is not as severe as the black juveniles going to jail, but they did commit a crime of assault which happens to warrant a charge in itself. If anything the whites should have been charged with a hate crime for running up the nooses on the school tree and yet that may still may come about, but that is not the same as Selma in the 60’s.

 

A friend of mine once said as I was pissing in an alley after an Iron Butterfly concert back in ’69: “In my country we have a saying that when you have a bucket of crabs you never have to put a top on the bucket because they will never get out. As one crawls about all the crap and seaweed and shit to get out and as he’s near the rim of the bucket, the other crabs will reach up as they are trying to get out too and they end up pulling the one nearing the top back in.

 

I have no idea what that had to do with me urinating in an alley but it stuck with me.

 

So with that said, I know it’s been tough on you going though life looking like a pit bull on PMS but come on Jesse don’t drag one of our hopefuls down just because he doesn’t run around yelling “Man, dats whack what’dey be doin in Jena. Not only is that reverse racist-speak in its own right but it’s downright poor grammar.

Sincerely Mr. WLA

Photo borrowed from Associated Press.

Doll Edema

Doll Edema (say: dal eh-dee-mah) aka DE is swelling or puffiness of parts of a doll's body. It is caused by low grade plastic that gets trapped in the tissues of the doll’s appendages. Edema usually happens in the feet, ankles and legs. It also can affect the face and hands. Barbies and older Cabbage Patch Kids are usually immune to this disease, but it can happen to just about any doll manufactured after 1936.

Many things can cause doll edema. Sometimes gravity pulls the plastic down into the legs and feet. However, placing a doll body in the rear window of an automobile can bring on DE in just a matter of hours. The rear window of the 1974 American Motors Pacer was notorious for causing DE in over 1 gazillion dolls alone.

The other leading cause of DE is The Little Brother, most younger brothers have been known to use dolls to try and retrieve a Whamo Frisbee from roofs of garages and other urban structures. After two or three attempts to retrieve the Frisbee the doll usually ends up right next to the flying disk on the roof to suffer the wrath of the sun.

As of this report we have no idea whatsoever as to how many dolls have been lost to Rooftop DE. But we think it is more than twenty.

Doll Edema cannot be cured. The only way to treat doll edema is to treat the condition that is causing it. The following are some things you can do to keep the swelling plastic down:

•Put a pillow over the doll’s face and press gently, this works well while watching any Joan Crawford film.

•Wrap the doll’s legs in duct tape, which you can buy at most hardware stores. Duct tape puts pressure on the doll’s legs and keeps plastic from collecting in legs and ankles. Dolls can then be accessorized with G.I. Joe leftovers while your younger brother is recovering from someone placing copious amounts of poison ivy in his sleepover sleeping bag.

•Follow your doctor's orders about limiting how much playtime with Barney and Sponge Bob Square Pants you doll is allowed to have. (The above aforementioned play date partners are seriously not recommended by The Association of Preventative Measures of Doll Edema for any of your dolls that do NOT already suffer from DE.)

Your doctor might want you to take a medicine called a mojito (say: mo-HEE-toe), while your doll is recovering.

You can purchase purple DE wrist bracelets to show your support in finding a cure of this crippling disease buy contacting the person(s) responsible for this Public Service Announcement.