April 12, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 12, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Oddly enough, I feel at ease being alone here with Lun*na.  I enjoy the hours of solitude and being at home.  As well as e-mailing and texting friends to see how they are holding up.  Some get back to me right away, and others, after a week, I haven't heard a squeak from them.  Which is OK, because it means that they are not feeling well, or doing what I do for a hobby.  Which is to shop for food online, and being consistently frustrated in not only getting the food I desire but also no window for deliveries.  It's ironic for a few decades now, we have been sold that Amazon is the answer to our shopping needs, yet, it is this website that now disappoints us in a very frustrating matter. Ironically, I can locate and find the rarest album in a $10 range on the far reaches of the Internet, yet, I'm a total failure in obtaining toilet paper.

It is also strange that I got a writing job during lock-up, and it's a fascinating project.  I can't talk too much about it, because it is at the very start of this exciting proposal, but I have to do a lot of research, and that is enjoyable to me.  It keeps me occupied and not think about the daily grind of everyday life in the Year of the Trump Virus.  Still, I had to refresh my grocery list on an hour-by-hour basis.

Life has drastically changed for a lot of people, but for Lun*na not that huge of a change and me, due that we always work from home, when we can.  Money is still a problem for us, and ever since I left the bookstore work at Book Soup, it has been a struggle.  Once I left the store, I decided to become a full-time writer. In the power of Positive Thinking frame-of-mind, I kept to my promise.  What is extremely difficult is being the sole family member taking care of my aging mom and Uncle.  They are OK, but there is always the fear of the shoe falling off, and I trained myself to be alert and ready for any emergency.  Even that, my first thought is to go to them, but the truth is that it is too dangerous.  I try to make sure that they can get help from professionals when the need is upon them.

Before the Trump Virus hit Los Angeles, I was working part-time at Artbook at Hauser & Wirth.  I had to be laid off during the crisis, which is understandable to me.  I asked my manager if I can do volunteer work from home, and I have been organizing friends and artists that I admire, to put together a reading list so that we can put it on our Artbook web page.   Lots of indie bookstores are on Bookshop.org, and I beg you to all buy books from this website, which promises to be the alternative version of Amazon.  All you need to do is type your favorite bookstore, and it will take you to their order page.  It's essential that you must feed your stomach, but you also have to feed your mind.  Reading right now is one of the best things one can do to fight the boredom or anxiety of being contained in one's home or space.

Yesterday afternoon Kimley and I put together another podcast episode of Book Musik, where we discuss various books on music.  The subject matter is David Bowie's Diamond Dogs, and it's a book written by Glen Hendler and published by 33 1/3 Books.  That episode will be up on April 15.  We both need to keep up with this show, not only to entertain you, dear listeners but also to keep a schedule - the purpose of doing something positive.

I hope all of you are having a lovely holiday today, and remember never to lose your sense of the absurd or humor.  I'll be seeing you. -Tosh Berman

April 12, 2017 (Tosh's Diary)

April 12, 2017 (Tosh's Diary)


It's Wednesday, and I'm waiting for the mail.  My day is, waiting.  I wake up due to the sun coming up, and I move around the house to avoid the intense and direct sunlight.  It is not until around 7 PM where I feel I can stay still and place my body on the seat facing Waverly Drive.

Once the sun goes down, I feel more alive. Perhaps due to its cocktail hour at that time.   The first sip of white wine drains all my anxiety away.   I feel guilty about spending money on vinyl records, but it's one of the great pleasures in my life where I can sit in front of the turntable, with headphones on, and play an old record, that clearly has a lot of history on it.  The album may have been at the very least in one household, but perhaps two.

 I remember in the 80s I sold my records to get credit to buy new albums.  It was the only way for me to afford in getting a new record.  At that time, it was Aron's Records on Melrose, but I often regret in letting go records that mean a lot to me.  It's mostly an impulse on my part that when I want something new, I just trade in what I feel I can trade in at that moment.  I'm happy to get the new record, but it always comes with a profound sense of regret.

The wine drinking now is very much like the sun moving in a 12-hour day, it's just a reminder that time is moving on.   I sense a significant loss of wasted time, but that comes down to the nature of doing work, and on a schedule.  As I wander around the house to avoid the sunlight, I plan to sit myself down to write.  Within 12 hours I very much want to write something special or original. Or if anything else, something that will bring importance to whoever reads the text.   On the other hand, the truth is, I just want to make a presence within those hours to prove that I can be productive.   Alas, I often fail.

As mentioned, I feel close to Stephen Bannon.  We did arrange a meeting early this year, but we never met up.  Although I don't have proof, I suspect he deliberately ignored me.   I can feel his presence hooking me, and pulling towards his direction.  But then he rejected me, not by words, but by expressing no communication or clearly expressing the fact that I have no meaning in his life.  It's ironic that he's getting the same treatment from President Trump and his family.   They use you for your ideas, and once finished, they throw you back into the ocean.   He and I are like bloated whales, that are stranded on a beach.   I was thinking of approaching him again, now that he has been rejected, but decided that would be cruel on my part.   I sit here and get angry, but what good is it to add misery to his already miserable existence?  This is what I think about, when drinking a glass of Charles Shaw white, and listening to an old Move album on my hi-fi.

April 12, 2014

April 12, 2014

I often just think about my life as “Little Toot, ” the tugboat child who all the other tug boats feel is useless because he (I presume it’s a he for some reason) prefers to play and make figure 8s in the bay.  Eventually the tugboat community forces Little Toot to leave and finds himself adrift in the vast sea.  I imagine myself in that role quite easily.  At one time I was working at a bookstore, having a great time there, and eventually let go, due that I love being around books, and I just wanted to play, which actually, in my point of view, was my actual work there.  Nevertheless, some disagree with my philosophy, and I was sent out adrift in the world of my own imagination.

As a teenager, I briefly met the entertainer and singer Tiny Tim at a party at Billy Gray’s house in Topanga Canyon.  I was taken aback to meet him, because I wasn’t sure if he actually exists or not.   At the time he was a star for being on “Laugh-In, ” but also was taken as a joke, due to his appearance and his rather eccentric mode of focusing on songs from the 1920s and beyond.  Also the fact that he played the ukulele and sang with a falsetto/vibrato voice.  He wore white make-up, red lipstick, and had long hair.  Tiny Tim sort of look like he was borderline homeless or even insane.   So many thought he was likely to be a comedian and he was taking the Tiny Tim character as a fictional role.   To be honest, I was confused at the time.  When I met and observe him at this gathering, I can see he was genuine and not at all, a character that was set up for the masses.  At the time, I purchased his first album “God Bless Tiny Tim, ” and recalled that I really liked it, and for sure it wasn’t a joke thing at all.  Very recently I learned that he was also in Jack Smith’s “Normal Love.” Like Little Toot, Tiny Tim wasn’t really accepted by his audience, because he was thought as a freak or a humorous figure.  In fact, he was a genuine musical archivist and more likely one of the great minds in 20th music.  Yet, I feel he was abandoned by the entertainment world, once they thought the joke was old.

It’s very hard to stay true to one’s self, when the world either ignores or ridicules you in a fashion that yells out ‘you’re not important.’  Yet, on a daily basis, the struggle to work or play is almost like sending a spit against the wind, it hits you in the face again and again.  We are often placed in a world that is none of our making, and yet, everyone demands that we operate in that landscape, and do what we are told.  I remember reading about the teen idol David Cassidy and his frustration to be taken seriously, yet, his image, even his peculiar fame, worked against him.   The crisis is trying to define oneself against what the others say you are.   With that in mind, whenever I put pen onto paper, it is a weapon against those who wouldn’t allow me to flourish in my own fashion.  Nevertheless, if you keep your vision intact, there is nothing that they can do in order to destroy you.  And yes, you drift in that vast ocean, but also there are endless possibilities where one can even visualize an Atlantis in front of them.