The only appointment I had to keep on Saturday was a birthday dinner with Pete Spinning and Oh That Girl. Pete and Oh That Girl throw parties in LA and the surrounding desert under the moniker of Monkey-Do. I met them through Adlib, who booked Pete and Derek Andrew (a Monkey-Duo!) to play for us at our residency at Trinity Nightclub in Seattle. Since then the four of us have shared quite a few more events, including the uber successful (and coming again soon on June 20th - get your tickets, folks) outdoor camping, regional burn event and all-out extravagant Esthetic Evolution in Boise, Idaho. The quaint birthday dinner was timely to have landed on the week that I was in LA, both because it was a great space to become more acquainted with Pete and Oh That Girl as well as the fact that 1) Pete and Vivek's birthday are a day apart and 2) It was at an Indian Restaurant (Vivek's home country cookin) in Orange County. I take such coincidences as evidences that I am indeed in the right space and time. I find that when these such coincidences abound, things seem to slide into place like budda.
After chatty conversation and delicious Indian deserts, we decided to accompany Pete and Oh That Girl to an underground party in LA. Less like a rave and more like an underground House party, this was Doc Martin's renegade gala through his Label/Entertainment Crew Sublevel. The venue was at a surprising location -- a dance hall out in the Valley. The locale looked like an old event center that I would imagine my grandparents getting married in, very fifties-esque with all-white walls. We parked in a spot on the street and could hear the light thump thump thump of the music. We walked around front to a sign that said 'enter through back'. Of course! Renegade parties must maintain anonymity by diverting foot traffic and noise from the streets. We walked around back to a small courtyard with a lit image reflecting over the door. We were frisked at the entrance, our bags checked, licenses scrutinized and then were directed to the cashier with smiles. There we payed the $20 entrance fee and the nice woman asked if I would like to choose a trinket from the table. There were fun necklaces and rings. I decided on a yellow hard plastic ring with a tree painted on the inside, later recognizing the significance of the tree symbol for grounding during my travels (I've worn it most nights ever since).
The inside space was none-too-exciting, but what the party promoters did with the lights gave it quite the ring. It was almost completely dark and the light on the disco ball splashed halos around the room and ceiling in waves of white and colored lights. The dance floor was contained intimately around the DJ booth by keeping the Mackie speakers close to the front and back so it did not fill the room with music, but kept the best sound within 50 feet of the DJ. There were some lame chairs propped against the wall, so one could sit down if they needed to, but to be honest, the dance floor was a far more pleasing place to spend time.
I've always enjoyed watching Doc Martin throw down on his 4 turntables, and this night was no exception, especially since it was his own hometown at his own party. Something about his funk-ed up records really gets your tail moving, even after a previous all-night party. I started the night out sleepy and listless, thinking I would spend most of my time on the sidelines. But by 5am I was groovin' on the dance floor with everyone else. Doc is just that good.
By 5:30 we were wiped, so we gave our hugs to Pete and Oh That Girl, snapped a pic and headed home.
The next day we made sure to get up and moving to enjoy the best day of the week in Venice Beach. On Sundays the boardwalk is packed with tourists watching the local performance art or shopping at the flea market-like stands filled with everything from necklaces to cigarette holders, watches and music. Type 'Venice Beach performers' in google images and you will see photos of many of the artists that set up their stations on the walkway weekly. Each week a drum circle starts on the beach and grows until you can hear it up and down the seafront. We spotted a green tree fairy on stilts in the midst of other less decorated but still prominent freedom dancers.
We walked for a bit, enjoying the sun and cool breeze. Soon after, though, we headed back to Vivek's house to make some tacos and enjoy the home taste of Red Hook that he had installed in his self-made kegerator. I had invited many of the new friends that I was in contact with to dinner to share stories and get to know each other. There was Kristahn, a PR extraordinaire who had recently moved to LA from New York and her friend Earl Dax who was in town to produce performances of his piece 'Weimar New York' (featuring the urban-icon Penny Arcade and Justin Bond of Shortbus fame) at the Green Door in Hollywood. We also hosted Jeremiah, a writer/director from Seattle that is soon leaving for Thailand to shoot his film. We were all strangers, but also artists and professionals and the conversation surrounding us reflected as such, creating a comfortable harmony between us all.
Feeling full after my artesian dinner party, I was looking forward to a few languid days in Venice before heading off to an almost certain incontinence in Palm Springs. Monday and Tuesday consisted of laundry and lazy mornings. On Tuesday I also took the time to visit Gold's Gym which was walking distance from Vivek's bachelor pad. Not only was Golds great because it is also my gym and I could enjoy a workout for free, but because this is the very famous Golds Gym that the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger (the actor, not the governor) was a member of during his days of bumming by the beach. While his original Golds is now closed, (the building still exists) the current gym is huge! It contained three rooms and an outdoor area set to Pump (clap!, point) you up. Most of its members were very very buff, especially the women. I was easily one of the thinnest ladies there which didn't really bother me for obvious reasons! I can see why so many great body builders frequented that gym. I thought the energy itself gave me more motivation to run and lift and pull and stretch. I felt great after my 2 hour workout, and when I looked in the mirror of the ladies locker room with my biceps held high, my muscles were indeed bulkier than 2 hours before. Magic!
I ended my Venice trip at Vivek's favorite burger joint down the street. After a full week of beach bummin', I was ready to head to the biggest female party in the U.S., set to start Wednesday night in Palm Springs.
More photos from Venice Beach and the LA Underground.
