rants, reports, raves, and embarrassments from eric trules

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nightmares

Chicken Little

We all know the story of Chicken Little, right? “The sky is falling! The sky is falling?” Well, do you remember how that little folk tale and bedtime story ended? I didn’t. So I looked it up. Actually there are two different endings… one much more optimistic than the other. And this little blog entry is about optimism, or…. the lack thereof. Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start: “Chicken Little likes to walk in the woods. She likes to look at the trees. She likes to smell the flowers. She likes to listen to…

Pigs, Pestilence & Rats

I’ve gotten 4 traffic tickets in the last 2 weeks. The first was for speeding on the 2 Freeway in Glendale, where the cop was in hiding under an overpass. An obvious speed trap! He said I was going 80. I said I was going no faster than anyone else in the left lane. Let’s see who’s right. I’ve called the Ticket Clinic. The 2nd was just a $73 parking ticket right here at Echo Park Lake. I was showing a new friend around the neighborhood. I was probably just in too expansive a mood, was unaware of the No…

The Irrational and Fantastic World of Dreams

“I think, therefore I am.” I’m a rational man. Logical, knowledgeable, and down to earth. Science fiction? Forget it. I prefer Dostoyevsky, Durrell, & Philip Roth. Cartoons? Super heroes? Fantasy? No thanks. I’ll take the psychological, conflicted realism of our three great American playwrights: Williams, O’Neill, and Arthur Miller. Religion? Bah! Humbug! “The opiate of the masses.” I’m a confirmed atheist. We were not made in God’s image; he was made in ours…. out of our unknowingness, out of our fear. Messiahs? Immaculate conceptions? A dude dying on a cross for our sins? Malarkey! I prefer old time animism and…

on the bus to palookaville

it’s another nocturnal and nefarious crime caper. naturally, i’m with my uncle harvey, the black sheep of the rosenberg clan and “the con” in my documentary film, “the poet and the con”. we’ve stolen a bus. not ken kesey’s bus. no merry pranksters here. something like the team bus for the lakers, or maybe the ascendant LA clippers. but donald sterling’s not on the bus. who the fuck would want that scumbag, racist b-ball owner, after the un-civil comments he made this past week that inflamed the whole multi-cultural nation? certainly not us. my uncle’s two accomplices in crime, “mo…

mountains and ocean and hollywood sign… and yet?

look to the right, exactly 90 degrees from the terraced hillside back deck of lucretia gardens, and there are — the san gabriel mountains — gently looming over the hazy glendale flats. turn 180 degrees back to the left and there’s — the glassy silver rim of the pacific ocean, dividing the big sky of another multi-colored california sunset from the slightly high-rise sprawl of snarky century city and the equally-hazy flats of LA’s toney west side. turn back another 90 degrees to the right, and there, straight ahead, is the white dome of the griffith observatory, the shrubby tree tops of tom mix hill (of legendary silent film cowboy lore), and lo and behold… the iconic hollywood sign itself.

me and isabelle huppert

it’s the most highly anticipated performance event of the new season. isabelle huppert in “4.48 pyschose”. the first presentation of UCLA live’s “international theatre festival” at the freud playhouse. that’s not “freud”, as in sigmund “freud”. no, this is pronounced “frood”, some impossibly obtuse and pretentious uber-european pronunciation that only the most sophisticated and in-the-know art patrons and culture vultures would venture saying aloud. the 2005 fall LA arts and culture season has already produced “dead end” at the ahmanson, the unwieldy and anachronistic dinosaur of a show that has filled the theatre’s former orchestra pit with hundreds of tons…

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