twenty years ago today i was living with Greg from the Villans and Whalen from Tsar

northridge quake

but at the time they were both trying to be in a band together and it wasnt really working out.

in college, in a land of great musicians, in a peninsula of a million bands, greg was the best lead guitarist

he also wrote some funny ass songs, and painted, and ruled.

jeff, in that same land, wrote the best songs, and dated the girl who most resembled a prettier Uma Thurman

so after college they naturally moved to LA, like many of us did, in order to follow their dream, in their case it was rock.

i was not following my dream. my dream was to be in the music business but i was driving a company car around the valley

teaching salesmen how to sell better, and failing miserably.

miserable is actually a good word because Greg Jeff and I were pouty little bachelors living in Atwater Village.

we had found a 3 bdr house on Glenhurst, just blocks away from where the Beastie Boys were recording Ill Communication

“Glendale Blvd., thats the one!”

the three bad brothers you know so well were doing far better than the three bad roommates.

greg even made an art school film called the three bad roommates where my character punches his in the gut

1484272_10152562510251040_1039197651_nbecause he had borrowed my appetite for destruction cd and had not returned it.

it was really just a great excuse for him to use slow motion while spitting out kool aid.

their was hella tension in the house because we were in the post-Isla Vista hangover, and their band wasnt really working

then in the middle of the night, 4:20am i think, i heard and felt what seemed like a slap on the side of the house

like a bigass slap from the hollywood sign.

i shook, opened one eye, closed the eye, and went back to sleep.

minutes later i heard an AM radio and greg and jeff panicking.

soon they knocked and opened my door and said Earthquake! the powers out. your book case fell over!

i asked “is the house on fire?”

they said, “no.”

so i said, “i’m gonna stay sleep then.”

which boggled their minds for some reason. and when i woke up a few hours later the power had been restored and they were watching LA freak out on the tv.

one line we heard over and over those few days was “and now from Chopper Two we have Stu Mandel. Stu, how are things from where you are?”

what made this earthquake unlike any that i had experienced was there were hella aftershocks.

the first one came that first night. it felt like a school of whales swimming underneath our street.

you could hear it rumble as it approached you and it got louder and louder and then your house wiggled in the most unnatural way.

and then you could hear it roll past.

sometimes there were just big smacks on the side of your house. it was unnerving. especially at night.

the best part about this house was it had a rock room basement. which was the reason we rented the home.

because there were already tensions, the weirdness of the aftershocks only made things worse.

so i got behind the drums one night right before we were gonna strangle each other and tapped out a little Native American rain dance beat

fuckyou earthquake, fuckyou earthquake… i chanted as i beat the toms.

jeff plucked the open bass string fuckyou earthquake fuckyou earthquake he sang into his mic

and when greg powerchorded to the beat Chopper One was born and we played off the mojo and made it ours.

if we were gonna die we were gonna do it with rocking a soundtrack of defiance.

after a half hour we started playing nirvana, the velvets, van halen, bruce springsteen, and any other song we all could play instantly

my favorite was the romantics’ what i like about you. pretty much the opposite of fuckyou earthquake.

about a month later we threw a party, introduced chopper one to the world, and only got together one more time,

my 30th birthday in frisco.

thats pretty much what i remember of the northridge earthquake: it created Chopper One.

Long day yesterday omg

20140117-081831.jpg

one of the interesting things about the Oscars is Nominations Day which is really Nominations Morning

all through the night the nice people of Price Waterhouse Coopers and the Academy work together

in an amazingly secure building where telephones are confiscated, the Internet is turned off

no tweeting

and communication with the outside world is forbidden.

PWC make sure the votes are accurately counted and the Academy feverishly puts together materials for the press

20140117-081906.jpg

this happens all night long because at 5am all of the entertainment press are fed breakfast at the Academy HQ

and then ushered into the Samuel Goldwyn Theatre to get set up for the announcement

20140117-082136.jpg

then at exactly 5:38am Academy President Cheryl Boone Isaacs and ridiculously dashing Chris Hemsworth reveal the noms

for some reason i didnt know Thor was so tall or had such an interesting Aussie accent

20140117-082204.jpg

afterwards all the reporters broadcast right there from the theatre to all over the world

20140117-082228.jpg

then we rush back to our offices to put together graphics that end up on our site and social media streams

20140117-082246.jpg

big shout out to my cohort Vanessa who knocked these out beautifully while the clock ticked in the early AM

20140117-082336.jpg

meanwhile another group of staffers, with white gloves, gently stuff the envelopes for the fortunate nominees

so they can be invited to the Nominees luncheon, the Academy Awards, and the Governors Ball.

it is a week of tough preparations followed by a day or two of hurry up and dont wait.

thus at 2pm when i finally left the office i was exhausted and just wanted a taco with a nice girl from canada

20140117-082422.jpg

luckily there was one in town who bought me a variety of nosegays and took me on a tour of DTLA

20140117-082513.jpg

which concluded with a rooftop reunion with another canadian which is the way every day should end

20140117-082618.jpg

truly exhausted i couldnt even make it to my hollywood bachelor pad so i drove to my secret DTLA lair

and saw a Deadhead spare tire cover on a Land Rover and sang

dont look back you can never go back.

got 10 hours sleep, woke up, and blogged to you