Jojo Update

I've been MIA.

An old story and new thoughts. First, two Thursdays ago:

A friend and I dined at a restaurant I’ve been craving in West Hollywood. I craved it before I ate there because I just knew it was going to be awesome (awesome!). American classics updated to incorporate California fusion and Asian influences. I met my friend there and smiled proudly after I parallel parked on Melrose. No one was around to see the A++ job I did, but I knew, I knew.

Although this place was in Hollywood, it didn’t feel like it. Inside was warm and red with black furnishings over walnut floors. The people there were friendly, not snooty. A waitress laughed at me because I got caught in the door coming out of the bathroom with my big ass purse (note: the purse got caught, not I). “You can do it, you can do it,” she said. Anyway, that’s another tale. But I made it out okay.

We were seated in the corner and I had a crusty halibut-type fish over roasted squash. I can’t remember what fish it was but it was rich and flakey and I could only eat half. No worries; my friend licked my plate clean. We ate a banana-chocolate-brownie-sugar cookie parfait for dessert, sipped wine and talked about what’s on our “LA Lists” of to-do’s.

But after: the best part. We ended up at a tiny intimate club off of La Brea called Room 5. Part comedy club, part music venue, the small room above an Italian restaurant couldn’t hold more than 50 people. We climbed the stairs and at the top a guy in an ugly t-shirt and dress jacket was asking for donations. We had no idea what for but threw in five bucks for the mystery cause. I thought we were there to see a comedy show so I was confused. “What am I supporting?” I asked him. “Uh, I don’t know either, man,” He replied.

We took seats in the front row. After two different comedians got up to do their thing (including the “clueless” guy at the door taking donations) I realized I wasn’t at a show but at a party. They were celebrating! They were drunk! They were roasting each other. Looking around the room we weren’t spectators but we blended into a crowd of friends and family and biggest fans.

That night, I became a biggest fan. The group was called “White Boy Comedy Club” (yes, there were some black comedians there, too) and they perform at the Improv and Room 5 and other venues. A couple members have had their lucky breaks already with signed TV contracts. We sat with glasses of wine and clinked glasses with strangers in the crowd.

It was truly a Los Angeles night. I think that’s what this city is about. So many people are here to pursue their dreams, and I like to look beyond the people that are materialistic and superficial and love to play the name game “I know this celebrity and this celebrity, yadda yadda.” It’s not about that. It’s about these guys in Room 5 on a Thursday night going nearly broke to do what they know they were meant to do: act and make people laugh. These are the humble ones, the underdogs, the ones who get up on stage in strange outfits, the guys who wear lipstick, the girl who sang a rock song with all the wrong lyrics.

But enough! Moving on: They’re about to film a movie outside my window. They’ve closed the street down and they’re setting up props. That’s all I know.

Also: This past weekend I hiked Temescal Canyon for the first time. It's only about 15 minutes from where I live, so I'll be back again soon. I would post pics but I didn’t bring my camera, but it was one of the most beautiful hikes I’ve ever taken. After about 20 minutes of uphill climb we came upon a waterfall where we stopped to rest in silence. I felt like I was on the east coast, climbing among the trees, enjoying their soft shade, sweeping their branches from my face. We hiked past yellow wildflowers and crisp white daisies and came up to a sunshine-filled spot on top, where we looked over Pacific Palisades and out to the ocean, wide and gray.

I could have there all day.