Tosh Berman's Blog, page 238

February 17, 2014

February 17, 2014

Through my connection with Justin Bieber, I got an assistant job with Paris Hilton, which is ideal for me, because it also gives me time to finish and work on my childhood memoir.  I’m also hoping that I can either write a song with Paris, or someone else, with the hopes that it will end up being a recording by her.   I wrote a song with Justin, but the last thing I heard was that he rejected it, with respect to his new album.  But right now Paris has other interests besides fashion and music.   She is all deeply into early 20th century art.


Secretly she has been obsessed with the 1913 Armory Show that took place in New York City.  It is regarded as the first exhibition in America to expose avant-garde 20th century art to the masses.   Before that, Americans only knew ‘realistic’ art, but here, for the first time they could see Fauvism, Cubism, and Futurism art pieces.  For the first time, people could see masterpieces like Marcel Duchamp’s “Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2, ” Matisse’s “Blue Nude (Souvenir de Biskra), ” and Robert Henri’s “Figure in Motion” among other considered now classics.  For the past ten years, Paris has been secretly buying every painting and sculpture that were exhibited at the Armory Show.   One of my many jobs for her, besides making phone calls and bringing her tea, is to be able to keep an eye on this collection.  One of the key reasons why I got this job was because through my father’s reputation as an artist.  She also loved the fact that I wasn’t an academic and I liked to party now and then.

One would think, due to her publicity, that she was a monster, but I found her to be easy to work with, and she always calls me “dear” which I found endearing.  I also admired her attention to her collection.  For instance, she owns a building in Pasadena to house the art.    With this collection, she was obsessed with keeping the original floor plans as much as possible.  Only once, she opened up this collection for others, and it was a private party.  Only those who are called upon by her could come, but they must also dress in the style of 1913.  In fact, whenever Paris visits her collection she wears authentic antique clothing from that year or era.   Not only that, but she made me wear the clothing as well, whenever I either visit or more likely work with the collection.



The closest person I can think of with respect to Paris’ personality would be Jean des Esseintes, the leading character in Joris-Karl Huysmans’ “Against Nature.” The big difference between them is Esseintes is French, and Paris is a combination of San Fernando Valley and Beverly Hills, with more refined taste of course.  Nevertheless she lives in a world that is closed off, and she is only surrounded by things that make her happy.  The Armory Show is one of the subject matters that give her great pleasure.  Through her research of the Armory show, she discovered not only the artwork of James Whistler, but also his writings.  His credo “art for art’s sake” has a strong appeal for her.  In her home, she has a room set aside for herself called “The Peacock Room” which is based on Whistler’s interior design he did in 1876.  The interior is considered to be example of the Anglo-Japanese style, and Paris as much as possible tried to make a perfect or exact reproduction of that room for her home.  She got it mostly right, but eventually had to buy replicas of the original room, due that she couldn’t own them.  Nevertheless, this is where she often sits in the afternoon, reading art criticism by Whistler and meditate on her various business ventures.

I became quite attached to her, just because she treats me so well as an employee, that I often go out and buy her little gifts.   There is no way I can give her something that is money orientated or expensive, but I usually get her stuff like a Gene Pitney greatest hits collection on CD, or a vinyl re-issue of John Leyton’s “Johnny Remember Me.” I hope after I am gone and dead, she will still have this music, and therefore, one can imagine that I will still be a good memory for her.

February 16, 2014

February 16, 2014
Lun*na, my wife, just finished reading “The Borrowers” by Mary Norton.  I never read this book, or heard of it, till she picked it up as a recommendation from a friend of ours.   The book is about a family that lives in a house in the U.K. and unknown to them, is a group of very small people who secretly live in the same structure.  What they do to survive is ‘borrow’ but according to Lun*na it is more like stealing various goods that they need in order to live.  Not only pieces of food, but fabric, but also small items that can be used as chairs or tables as well. 
I imagine like a lot of people we’re always missing items in our house.  For me it is generally a specific book, but I think the most frequent disappearance is that ‘other’ sock.  How in hell does that disappear on a regular basis?    Or one’s favorite pen or pencil.  I have a tendency to collect bookmarks from various stores, and pretty much they disappear quite quickly in the household.   A very deep mystery to me. 
I dont know about you readers, but Lun*na and I have these series of conversations, which pretty much goes like this:
“Lun*na that movie we saw last night “The…. Oh what ever it is called with…. I forgot his name, but he was in …….  That movie about a heist robbery in …. some European city, you know what I am talking about! ”
“Yeah, we saw it with …. Oh God, what’s his name.  We just had dinner with him …. Oh shoot!  I got his face in my brain, but the name is located in the back of my tongue…. Ah
“Yes, I know exactly who you are talking about, that’s. …. Well, yeah I know who you are talking about.
“Ahh….”
And so forth.  Of course this could be caused by our advancing age, but let's supposed, and this is Lun*na’s theory, that Borrowers do actually exist, and they take our memories away and when in the mood they return them.
The thing is we hear noises in the middle of the night.  Drawers being opened and closed, a creek here or there, or once in a while we hear an object being dragged on the floor.  Once we awake, or the next morning, we don’t see or miss anything.  It is usually later when we noticed that an object is missing or a specific fork or piece of fabric.  I think any normal person would get up from their bed to check out where these sounds are coming from, but to be honest here, I am scared.  While I’m in bed, I wish to avoid anything that is happening at night.   For instance when we had the huge earthquake in Los Angeles in 1994, I stayed in bed, when the quake hit at 4:30 am.  Even with the crashing sounds of objects falling or being smashed, I just couldn’t get myself out of the bed.  When the crisis is happening I want to go back to sleep.   So hearing things being moved about in the middle of the night, is just an excuse for me to shut that off in my world, so I can go back to sleep.
Not too long ago Lun*na and I had another discussion where we could not recall the name of someone or the restaurant we went to the night before.  To my growing alarm, when I looked at her as she was trying to remember the name of the restaurant, I saw something very tiny near her ear lobe.  As she kept on talking, I gently went up to her, to get a closer look, but at the same time, I didn’t want to alarm her.  What I saw was a very small figure, and it seemed that this object was blowing something in her ear.  Lun*na all of sudden yelled “Clifton Cafeteria” as her memory came back, but at that instant, the small figure disappeared, like it didn’t exist in the first place. 

This happened again, when I couldn’t remember a name of a film we just watched the night before, and Lun*na swore she saw something on my shoulder, but I couldn’t feel or see it.  But once she saw it, and comment on seeing something weird near my ear, I suddenly remembered the film.  Which by the way, I can’t remember what it is just now.  Nevertheless, we both agreed that the Borrowers do exist, and unlike the book, they do return certain objects - like that sock, but more important, memories do come back time-to-time. 

February 15, 2014

February 15, 2014

My father’s favorite author was Sax Rohmer.  I’m not sure if it was literature he picked up as a teenager, or as an adult.  But I was practically raised in a household that had his Fu Manchu series in every room in our house.  Mostly mass market paperbacks that had stained yellow paper, that looks like if one touched it, the paper will crumble into dust.  It has been noted that Rohmer was part of the qabbalistic Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and had ties with the Rosicrucians.  It was a mixture of being a ‘pulp’ writer but also attached to secret societies, that made him such an appealing figure to my family.



Before Rohmer became a “weird” novelist, he was a comedy sketch writer for the English Music Hall.  One of the people he met and worked with was the great Italian artist Totò, but eventually the language barrier was too much of a strain for the both of them.  Even though, they could only communicate through various slapstick skills, both artists became more obsessed with language, which in fact, Totò became known as a great poet.  Rohmer, after leaving the music hall, became totally devoted to the Hermetic Order and started writing novels and short stories for Peterson’s Weekly.   His first published book was “Little Tich” which was a biography of a well-known music hall performer.  Around this time, he invented his masterpiece Fu Manchu.



The character was drawn from the Orient, and of course was part of the “Yellow Peril” fear that was hitting Western countries at the turn-of-the-century.  Fu Manchu is a master criminal, who specializes in poison, and most, if not all, his criminal organization is funded by the drug trade and white slavery.  There were 10 full length Fu Manchu novels, where he is hunted down by detective Denis Nayland Smith, but by the last paragraph, or the last page, Fu Manchu always escapes from Smith’s clutches.

The escape artist Harry Houdini was a fan of the Fu Manchu series as well as becoming a friend of Rohmer.  Their relationship was such an odd one, with respect to Houdini’s desire to debunk mystical ties to the practice of stage magic.  He was obsessed with the thought that a magician is an artist or at the very least a craftsman who works the magic as a skill, not someone who gains ‘magic powers. ' Rohmer on the other hand believed in the mystic powers, and was a traveler in the world of secret societies and practices.  He eventually spent time in the Orient, learning secrets that were at that time, totally unknown in the West.  He was also an expert on the practices of Opium, and it has been rumored that he was the first one to turn Jean Cocteau onto that drug, that eventually he became addicted to it - up to the time he was filming “Beauty and The Beast.”

Rohmer passed away in 1959 from an outbreak of influenza - “Asian Flu. ”

"The Mayor of MacDougal Street" by Dave Van Ronk with Elijah Wald

At this time and point in my life I really don't have an ear for traditional folk music, but nevertheless, and even more important to me,  is the cast of characters that were part of the Greenwich Village scene in the late 1950's and early 1960's.  Oddly enough I wanted to read this book because last December I was walking around the village and thinking there must be a good memoir or book on this area.  I found it and its "The Mayor Of MacDougal Street," a memoir by Dave Van Ronk, with some help from Elijah Wald.

The beauty of this book is Van Ronk's attitude and stance regarding the era and the place.   He seemed to be a man of great taste and pleasure, and I would for one would have loved to have either seen him in concert, or be one of those people who were invited to his pad to hear music and talk literature.  Well, I wasn't, so this book comes in handy with respect to this guy as an observer at a time that was very interesting.   Van Ronk is very fair-minded, and he does not appear to have any regrets or jealousies regarding his career or someone say like Bob Dylan.  In fact, his writing on Dylan is superb.  He has that clear-eye subjective view point in regards to people like Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Phil Ochs.   He knows their music, and his critical commentary on their careers and art is really fascinating.   Also Van Ronk captures the flavor of Lower Manhattan, which was the real reason why I picked up on this book.

Also "The Mayor of MacDougal Street " is very focused on a specific time and place.  Van Ronk had a full life, but here he's just focusing on a time that a lot of us heard about, but now reading this book, we can know everything about it as well.

Tosh Talks - Joe Meek part1 The Honeycombs "Have I The Right"

February 14, 2014

February 14, 2014
My Dad and I were invited by Dean Stockwell to the set for the TV show “Combat!, ” which at that time was a show about World War 2 troops in Europe that I was obsessed with.  My memory is that we went to the MGM lot in Culver City where they filmed the series.  I was nervous because I was going to meet not only Roddy McDowell, who was the guest co-star, and a friend of Dean’s, but also the star of the series, Vic Morrow.  As a kid I idolized Morrow, and to this day, I do not even know why?  I was very much attracted to the clothing that he wore in the series, for instance I liked how he wore his helmet, which was always tilted up, and there was something very tragic about his stance, or the character he played.  Nothing bad happens to him as the main character, but his eyes were always sad, even if the scene called out for some sort of joy.   The juxtaposition of a happy ending in an episode, is always telling another story through his sorrowful expression.  


Meeting Morrow was brief, just a shake of the hand and that was it.  It was mentioned that he co-wrote a screenplay based on Jean Genet’s “Haute Surveillance” (“Deathwatch”) starring his friend at the time, Leonard Nimoy.  Morrow directed the film as well.  I remember him looking at me, and asking Dean and my dad, if I would be interested in appearing in his film.   There was a flashback scene where the main character (played by Nimoy) as a little boy running around stealing fruit from a stand, probably somewhere in Rue Montorgeuil, which is the oldest outdoors food market in Paris.   My dad looked at me, and asked if I wanted to do the part.  I looked up at Morrow’s sad eyes and nodded “no.” He laughed, and put his hand on my head and messed up my hair a bit. That previous Christmas, as a gift from my parents, I got a “Combat!” toy gift box, which consists of Dr. Saunders’ dog tags, as well as a toy machine gun, and a plastic canteen.   I wanted to tell Vic that fact, but I was too shy to bring it up with him.

As we walked around the MGM Culver City lot, we ran into the actor Edward Platt, who at that time was in “Get Smart.” It was weird meeting him, because in the show he plays Maxwell Smart’s boss, who was hysterical to me.  But meeting him I was shocked how serious he was, and he was perfectly polite, but the difference between who he plays on the TV screen and in real life was a huge leap from fantasy to reality.  Morrow on the other hand didn’t disappoint me, he was really Sgt. Saunders in “Combat!”  

Tosh Talks - Joe Meek part2

February 13, 2014

February 13, 2014

As I was falling back asleep this morning, I heard the alarm go on, which automatically plays Johann Strauss’ “Blue Danube.” With that melody it never gets me out of bed quickly, especially its introduction which so lazily causes me to drift in a gentle sway of the river itself.  After an hour of making a concerted effort to take one of my legs onto the floor beside the bed, I eventually have to pee.  As the urine flows out of my penis, I whistle, out-of-tune of course, Blue Danube, which somehow controls the piss movement into something enjoyable.



Since last week I got a writing job for the newspaper “La Citoyenne” which is edited by Hubertine Auciert, a well-known feminist, and an incredible boss.  She basically requested that I do a series of articles on Los Angeles, from my point-of-view of course, and if possible perhaps make it into a guided tour seen through my eyes.  She asked me to list shops, hotels, record stores and book stores - that sort of thing.  To me this was a dream job, the thing is she can only pay me in Euros, since the paper is printed and published in Paris.   This actually works out Ok for me, because I have often had this fantasy that one day I will sneak out of the U.S. to go to Paris to live under another name.  It doesn’t make sense, but the fact that I will have a small income in another country, made it sound so sexy to me.



I’m fortunate that I can write 60 to 80 pages per day, without getting into a sweat.  Some are addicted to sunlight, but I have a thing for the solitude relationship between writer and computer screen.  I love the Macintosh Pages application, where I can endlessly make choices between words and sentences.  A day doesn’t go by, where have I made my commitment of at the very least 60 pages, I have been now part of a blissful state of mind.  Some find satisfaction by being paid in gold, but mine is being paid by the word, hell, even by the letter!

To ease the strain of writing (if any, duh!) I need to have sex at least once a day.  I started the art of making love when I was 15, and I haven’t stopped.  I mostly pay for my sexual conquests, because the business transaction is a turn-on for me.  I’m a firm believer that there should be a customer and there should be someone to supply a service to that customer.  If the world was run that way, it would be a sort of paradise for those who can, of course, afford to pay.



Once I get that over with, I can fully concentrate on the writing for the day.  For my work with “La Citoyenne”, I do a bit of research.  Right now I am totally fascinated with downtown Los Angeles.  I love to hang out at St. Vincent Court, which is off Seventh Street, west of Broadway.  It’s an odd area, due that it looks like a European arcade from the 19th century.   There is the incredible Pasquini Espresso Bar, where I often sit to have an espresso and look over my notes.  Then I head over to the Downtown Library on 5th and Flower to do my column and work on my short stories as well.

One time I was challenged that I couldn’t possibly write 60 pages per day.   I took this as a challenge and arranged to have a glass cage built for Human Resources in Chinatown, and sat down in front of an invited audience and they could watch me write 60 or more pages.   Each member of the audience paid $10 to enter.  By the time, I finished my little narrative (60 pages long of course) I was able to print out the work and gave it to each member of the audience.

In the long run, if it's 60 pages or 60 words, what is important is what I write, and how I write it.  Everything else is gravy on the plate that is life.  All I know is that after a day’s work of making love, then writing, I am ready for bed, and there I put on the gorgeous melody of “Blue Danube Waltz, and dance myself to a somber sleep.

February 12, 2014

February 12, 2014

I went around Los Angeles taking photographs from my i-phone of landscapes that I know will be altered forever. Specifically the Sunset Strip area, which as I write, construction workers are tearing down the building toput up the new structures. Eventually if someone blindfolded me, turn me around five times, and then removed the blindfold, I don’t think I’ll recognize the area anymore.

People have a tendency to believe that Los Angeles has no sense of history, which is part of the charm of the place. It is very much rooted into ‘the now’ and not in its past. Nevertheless I feel compelled to document the changes that are taking place, and I imagine each location on the strip as if a ghost has lived there. La Cienga Boulevard and Sunset, which were always an awkward area to walk around in, due to the steep hill that meets Sunset. I imagine when crossing the street that I will topple over due to the gravity pulling me downwards. 




To be honest the two buildings that were recently torn down, are not of any interest, but throughout my life as I traveled back and forth on Sunset, I would see these buildings and often reflect my thoughts on them. Not once in fifty years have I ever entered those two buildings. One was the house of suede or leather and the other used to house the Petersen’s publishing empire, which consists of Hod Rod Magazine, Motor Trend, Guns & Ammo, and most important to me, Tiger Beat magazine. 

Now that they went missing, I have nothing but regret and a touch of heartache. It will be a matter of time when I won’t even remember these buildings, due to seeing the new structure on an everyday basis. My memory will fade, and therefore an important part of my history will disappear on the vacant lots. My favorite photographer Eugène Atget, obsessively took photographs of Paris at the turn-of-the-century and now we have visual documents of a city that doesn’t exist in a physical sense, yet it’s very much alive in one’s head and heart. 

I got off the Metro line 2 bus at the intersection of La Cienga and Sunset, and I wanted to get ahold of some sort of history before it disappears. It was around 1:00 AM and there were still people milling about the intersection, but I managed to break into the Petersen Building to hopefully locate something of importance to me, or something that will cause a memory of this location, before it changes into a version of ‘now,’ without the context of the past connected to the landscape. With a flashlight, I found the main staircase, which had no identity or design to it at all. Just a part of the building that appears to have no pride or interest in its welfare. If the building was a living thing, it was like it was telling me that I'm not worth living or existing on this world - especially on the intersection La Cienga and Sunset. 


On the highest floor, I found a room that wasn’t locked up. There was a desk, and in its drawer was a single issue of Tiger Beat dated May 1964. It had Mick Jagger on the cover, stating if one “is for them or against them.” The pages were yellowing and the magazine itself smelt damped, but I couldn’t tell if it was caused by water damage or just the aging process of its pages. I took the magazine, and carefully walked down the stairs, and out the front exit of the building. I looked back and gave a deep bow toward the building, thinking “thank you for being here for so many years.” I took a photograph of the building, and then took the Metro bus line 2 back to Silverlake.

Tosh Talks -Joe Meek part3 "Telestar by The Tornados"