June 5, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

June 5, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Today there are 1,445 new cases, and 36 died today from the Trump Virus.  Atwater Village, my neighboring community, is remaining the same with 52 cases total, but where I live, Silver Lake now has 204 cases.   It was under 200 yesterday for Silver Lake.  Glendale, not that far from me, has 1,040 cases total, and today there are eight more who are confirmed to have the virus. Another person died as well, so now the death is 92.  The total in the County of Los Angeles is 61,045 cases and 2,565 deaths.

For me, this reads stay at home and keep away from people. Yet, people do need to live and eat, and therefore they take chances by going back to work and opening businesses.  People who do go out in the world are not only endangering their health, but also others.  Dog eats dog, but do they like the taste of the virus in their mouth?

Lun*na, throughout the afternoon, has been working on the Philip Guston video I made for Artbook / D.A.P.   That should be finished by tonight, and then I will send it off to their main office in New York or their remote workspace.  Do offices even exist in this world?

I'm dismayed in hearing about the Police in Buffalo New York and how they are handling the demonstrators.   There are reports that the Police knocked down a senior citizen who found himself on the pavement with blood coming out of his ear.   The attitude of the Police was to walk past him, but a police officer or two were called for their actions.  Amazingly enough, the entire police squad resigned in support of their fellow cops.  Does one wonder if they work for the public's behalf or support their family, the gang, known as the Police?

June 4, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

June 4, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Today there are 1,469 new cases of the Trump Virus, and 44 deaths reported for today as well in the county of Los Angeles.  The city of Glendale, California, which I can see from the distance from my backyard has 1,031 cases so far and 91 deaths.  Atwater Village, which is walking distance from my home, has 52 cases and two deaths.  Where I live, Silver Lake, is still a tad under 200, with 12 deaths altogether.  I look at these reports daily, and they very much tell me what I will be doing for the next few days or weeks - staying at home to work on the film script and various writing jobs.

The good news is the neighbor's cat is back in my backyard.  She was gone for 24-hours, and I was miserable without her. I thought that a coyote caught her, and I was miserable throughout the night.  My neighbor told me this morning that they are allowing the cat to stay indoors at their home, and I was thrilled that she was alive and healthy.  I like dogs, but I love cats. Their relationship with humans is complexed interestingly.  There is equal attention paid to each other, and I feel in these days of misery, going out on the front steps and petting this gorgeous beast makes me feel good.

For the past few days, I have been reading the novel "Tapping the Source" by Kem Nunn.   The book is considered to be 'surf noir,' which may be the case, still, a real joy to read.  I've been studying surf culture as much as possible for a writing project.  The solitary surfer appeals to my sense of need to be alone during these days of a harsh life.  I feel miserable about my mom being in solitude; although I do text or call her daily, it is awful to have this border between us, yet, I don't give up the fight against the Trump Virus.  I don't live in fear or even anxiety, but more with sadness on a daily basis.

This afternoon I did another video for Artbook / D.A.P. on Philip Guston, the painter.  I love doing these little segments for my work, and it's challenging to touch on subject matters that are complexed and detailed, but within 8-minutes long.  I'm naturally a wanderer of a writer or talker, so to be confined in a timeframe is something new for me.  Kimley and I also discussed what the next book would be for our podcast Book Musik.  It isn't easy because we are committed to doing two episodes per month.  Due to the virus, we can't be in the same room, so that means we have to get an extra copy of a book for us, which so far is not that difficult. Still, the delivery and mail system is slow due to the Trump Virus.  Life has changed where we have to make plans even for a short time ahead of us.  I hear people mention that people have to live, meaning go back to their old life before the virus, but to me, living now in seclusion or being apart from the world is an intense experience. It is very much being alive and interacting with the new world.  For those who feel fear, either for the business they are losing or their lives and not to be sick - it's still a fear.  I have no fear.  I choose to live in a new world. - Tosh Berman.

June 3, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

June 3, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

For the past two months, my neighbor's cat has been visiting us regularly.  She hangs out by our front door, and I have spent a great deal of time hanging out with the cat on our front steps. I don't allow the cat inside, due to my wife is allergic to cat fur.  Still, when I work outside, she comes to the backyard and hangs with me. She craves attention, so I often spend time petting and chatting with her.  I haven't had a pet cat or dog since I was a child. I moved around a lot, so I never felt the need to have an animal as a pet. Also, I feel weird about owning an animal.  I know having a pet around can make you feel good, but there is something wrong about owning a living creature that bothers me to the core of my being.  Saying that now, I'm nervous that the cat is not around anymore. I looked forward to seeing her, and I don't even mind her meowing for an hour.  Her sounds are perfume to my senses.

As I write, people are demonstrating in various parts of Los Angeles and the world.  Mostly peaceful, and the other day, on my way to my mother's house to drop off some goods, I saw a bunch of kids with their parents doing their version of a march in the neighborhood.  Things may move on, but I do feel that there is significant damage to President Virus, and he may not survive this time.  I say that, because I sense a mood in the air, and I think people are tired of his lies, lack of character, and just being under the attack of this over-grown spoiled child in a man's body.

Today, I worked on a Philip Guston video talk, which hopefully will take place tomorrow.   I'm also working on a film script, and I need to make some significant changes in its structure.  I never worked with other people in a writing job, and I'm learning a lot in how to compromise and hopefully make a better script. I feel like F. Scott Fitzgerald or William Faulkner when they were hired by a Hollywood studio to become a scriptwriter.   The glamour of such work is a turn-on for me.  It's different from working by yourself for a book project or essay.

As of this writing (5 PM ), there are 1,155 new cases of the virus and 46 deaths in Los Angeles County.

June 2, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

June 2, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

I got up (too) early to go to Trader Joe's for their matinee senior hour.  Once we got there, I saw only one line to go in, so we stood in line.  The woman in front of us told me that there is a senior section where you can go in right away.  I thanked her, which was very kind of her to point this out to me, and then it came to my attention that I now look like a senior to the outside world.  My life until this point, people mention how young I looked, but alas, that is now not the case anymore.

Once you get into the entrance, they spray some liquid on to your hands, and you're free to roam in the store, but you must follow the directional arrows, which I do with great passion. I realize that what makes me happy is to be told what to do. I'm crazy about that. I love people giving me directions, and I follow their floorplan or design.  Being a life-long Jacques Tati fan, I admire how individuals fit into the overall design.  There's a sign in the store that said no more than five individuals in this aisle.  I thought that was perfect.  I counted four people, and then I jumped into that space, as happy as a bee approaching a flower.

I go to Trader Joe's for the sole purpose of buying Charles Shaw wine.  We get a month's supply of wine, which is three-cases.  I can't have dinner without white wine of some sort, and then while watching a show, nowadays it's "Babylon Berlin," I have a glass of Merlot.  After the show, I get a second glass and meditate on the past 24-hours.  It's not a quiet meditation.  It's a horror show.

As I write, things are happening that are not good.  The Trump Virus is raging. Yesterday it was 978 new cases and 22 deaths from the virus. Today there are 1,202 new cases and 60 deaths from the virus in the County of Los Angeles. When I go out, I see more people are feeling relaxed about social distances and wearing masks. For the last four days or so, no one talks about this, at least in the media, due to the police killing of Black Americans. It's interesting to note in Los Angeles County; there are 394 Asians, 265 Blacks, 917 Hispanic/Latinos, and 643 Whites who died so far from the virus. When someone dies either from murder or an infection, how each death affects their community - among friends, co-workers, family members, and so on.  The world is not good to us.  On the other hand, we're not good for the world.  - Tosh Berman

June 1, 2020 (In The Year of The Trump Virus)

June 1, 2020 (In The Year of The Trump Virus)

It's fascinating to watch President Virus self-destruct in such a fashion that is not a surprise whatsoever.  He is a child that one tells not to touch the flame, and you turn your back on him, and there he is with both hands in the blaze.  I can't imagine how exhausting it must be to be a journalist and have to write about him.  Easily provoked, and since he's trapped in the White House (in theory), he is being poked by a long stick while he's in the cage growling against these advisors, family, and god who knows who else who choose to be with this piece of shit.  I can't imagine a Hell that is worse than spending social or private time with this attention addict.  I get the idea that Republicans believe that if they keep their head down and get stuff passed in the house and senate, it will be worth it. Even with that thinking, how low can a human go with smelling their asses?  How long will it take from now to when he's hanging upside down in some gas station near the White House?

On a personal level, I have work to do, with even a deadline, yet, this oxygen sucker of what some suspect is or was a man is dragging all of us into a mixture of mud and shit.  I'm not particularly eager to get my clothes dirty for such rotting pounds of flesh, AKA President Virus.  Any showbiz figure who comes to his inauguration with the Stones' "Heart of Stone" as his intro music was clearly not a good sign for the next three-and-a-half years.   Flush him and his entire world down the toilet.  I prefer his golden toilet if you don't mind.  -Tosh Berman

May 31, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 31, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Things are moving fast, but at the same time, it is going slow-motion. The world is a series of horror incidents that seem to come from a 1950s Science-Fiction B-flick with paranoia touches, which is consistently a downer.  There is no good news on the horizon.  At times, I can say, "there's sunshine around the corner," or "it will get better."  The truth is it won't get better.  I think we are dealing with either the death of a culture (which can be a good thing) or the world is ending, and no one gets out alive.  Or, something in-between those two categories.

The uprising or riots, or whatever one wants to call it, is an event that is still happening as I write.  It can start one way and end up in another category as well.  I suspect that we will never know, because perhaps it began with passion, and then ends in boredom.  A brutal murder takes place in front of a phone camera, and the world shakes.   What upsets me the most is not just the death, but the fact that someone has the power over life and death, and chooses death for that person.   For many, sickly, it's acceptable for that police officer to do something like that.   On a daily basis, a Black person gets murdered by the police, and we are shocked in that manner of people getting shocked on Facebook or Twitter,  and then go on to another spectacle.  The obscenity of these people getting murdered for no reason than that they are black is the shocking aspect of it all.  We become accustomed to these men and women getting killed in front of cameras that it becomes wallpaper after a while.  One thing that the mainstream and underground media have in common is that they love to fetishize death.

I have met many good police officers, but then again, I'm white, so what do I know?   It seems that the police department is very much set up to be as a gang, where the occupation becomes an adopted family. You watch each other's back, even when a murder by a fellow police officer takes place.  The three other cops surrounding the killer is doing what it is trained to do - protect the family; in other words, the gang member, meaning the Police Department.  There's no reason why a man has to die for a counterfeit $20, or bad check, under the Police control.  If even, there was a crime being committed.

Still, it seems history repeats itself but also gets worse.  The Trump Virus is very much part of the social landscape where people are dying when they don't have to die.  Yet, a significant portion of the population is OK with either the death of a black man or woman, as well as someone who comes to contact with the virus. Freedom is very much a subjective desire or object.  One can be free from an illness or choose to spread their infection, without a care in the world.   One can dig their head into the sand, but you also have to come up for air.   Everything touched in this world becomes our property, and we don't take care of it.  Like dominos, you flick one, and they all come down.  - Tosh Berman.

May 23, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

May 23, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

For the past week, I have become good friends with my next-door neighbor's cat.  She's adorable and spends a great deal of time hanging out at my front door.  For the last seven days, I have been sitting on the front stair and petting the cat.  I haven't spent that much time with an animal due to various reasons.   I haven't had a cat since the 1980s in Hollywood.  For whatever reason, cats like me a lot. I often walk down a street, see a kitty, and yell out, "Hello," and I swear the cat meows out a "Hello" to me as well.  Isolation does interesting things to a fellow.  Not in a hundred years would I thought 'I'm going to look forward to talking to my neighbor's cat." Still, the beautiful aspect of an animal and its characteristics is something to be amazed about, regarding their nature.  

If the news is correct, people are going out this weekend and rejoin the human race.  Due to those actions, say within two weeks, we will see if these people even exist on our sad planet.  Since the lockdown, I felt there is a war against the virus, and whatever I can do to make people safe, or feel safe, is not beyond my reach.  Yet, some fellow citizens don't see the world as I see it.  If it were another issue or cause, I would be tolerant.  Due to their actions, they may cause more pain and death.   In my war mode of thinking, these citizens are traitors.  Or they are deserting the troops at the height when we need to pull together and get ourselves out of this mess.  I always had this feeling that I couldn't trust the other fellow or gal, and my suspicions are more likely correct. 

The neighbor's cat is very loyal to me. I'll always remember her friendship.  On the other hand, I'll keep in mind those who are weak and selfish.  Culture wars be damned; I'm on the right side of life. 

May 11, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 11, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

I woke up this morning, finding a photograph (1948) of our property on Facebook.  Where Home Restaurant now is, it used to be Currie Ice Cream Parlour.   Up the hill is our house, where we are now prisoners of the Trump Virus.  There used to be a Red Car Station on the hill, which is walking distance from our home.  Until now, I never heard of Currie Ice Cream.  I texted my mom about it, and she told me that there was one in Hollywood near her home when she was a teenager.  It seems that they were famous for their Mile High Cones with a lot of scoops.   I looked on the internet, and there are some interesting images of their interiors.  There seemed to be a jukebox, which, to me, is a sign of civilization.  Also, benches by the counter, that were big enough for two people.  I have seen stools by the counters, but not seats for two.  The staff that worked there had white outfits, similar to the classic gas station attendant uniform. 

The I-5 is right beyond our house, and that was built around 1956. I guess that Curries was still in existence when Interstate 5 was being constructed or perhaps even opened at the time.  When I walk around the neighborhood, I'm amazed by the everyday occurrences of life being lived or structures that still exist from the mid-20th-century.  My dream is to have a silver plaque on the side of our residence that says that Tosh Berman wrote "TOSH" here. Perhaps even have a small museum in honor of my work and life. 

Today, I did some work on my secret project, as well as reading some articles about President Virus's White House stricken by the Virus. He's a fellow that is surrounded by enemies, germs, and wicked, ugly karma.   Shakespeare could have written this narrative, but the truth is he wouldn't.  Nothing is interesting about President Virus.  His existence will be less remembered than Currie Ice Cream Parlour. 

May 10, 2020 (In the Year of The Trump Virus)

May 10, 2020 (In the Year of The Trump Virus)

Mother's day. I took the day off from my writing job and just focused on getting tulips for my mom this morning.  I bought her white tulips and purple tulips.  I went to Gelson's on Hyperion at 10:00 A.M. for the flowers, and once there, we decided to do a little bit of marketing.  Since the lockdown, I have been obsessing over Amy's Mac and Cheeze.  All vegan.   I throw in a handful of almonds, and it's a perfect lunch.  It does taste like frozen food, but that I think is what makes frozen food so tasty.  I miss the taste of Swanson's TV dinners.  A piece of beef of some sort.  Something green, I think green beans, and then some object that looks like the mashed potato, and usually, for desert, there is that apple something another.  I love that food. Mind you; I haven't eaten that type of frozen dinner since I was a child.

We drove to my mom's house and parked directly across the street from her home.  I called her to let her know that we were there, and she said: "I can see you out of the window."  My mom is 85 years old, and I'm 65.  We got out of the car, and I went up alone to her door. She opened it, and I gave her the flowers and said, "Happy Mother's Day."   When she opened the door, and with our masks on, I immediately took a full-step back.  We didn't do small talk, such as talking about the weather, or how we are doing.  I usually talk or text my mom every day, so sometime in the day, she knows what I'm doing.  She has mentioned that she likes seeing me in person, although I can't imagine anyone would want to see me, alas, she is my mother.   The truth is, the news has been bleak.  Every day, people have been dying either from the virus or just famous people from the infection or cancer.   There is never a good day to watch or read the news.  We stood there, and she stood there, and we waved goodbye to each other.

For our next podcast Book Musik, I'm reading "The Kinks: Songs of the Semi-Detached by Mark Doyle.  I have to finish this book by Monday (tomorrow) and do the podcast that Tuesday.  My life before and after the Trump Virus is the same.  I have a schedule for writing and posting narratives on Facebook, as well as keeping up my reading.  I take my plan very seriously, and I also mark my calendar in what I'm going to do for that day.  People are talking about if they should open for business, well, I'm here to tell you I haven't closed for business. 24/7 Tosh, that is who I'm.  I work at home, so this lockdown is a piece of cake for me.  I can go to work, but I firmly tell you, people, you shouldn't be working or going out of your residence.  Stay at home and read my daily posts.

Either for comfort or temporary insanity, I decided to put on Led Zeppelin II  when I got home from the market and mom's house.  This is a band I respect but not love.  What I do admire is how Jimmy Page blends his various guitars in the mix. The music itself is not exciting, but as a great chemist or bartender, he knows how to the proper mix. "Whole Lotta Love" works for me, especially the orgasmic spacey part of the song.  It is here that I imagine Page having sex with some enticing groupie of somewhat questionable age, and holding back the climax.   The rest of side one is not as important as the first track, because, after the sexual release, I'm exhausted.

Around four this afternoon, I watched a film called "The Most Dangerous Game," starring Joel McCrea and made in 1932, an RKO Picture.  Wonderful film.  Only an hour-long, which is a perfect length for a movie.  A story about a hunter who is being hunted. It has serious thoughts on the nature of humans hunting down animals.  I wouldn't recommend the film to vegans or dog lovers. I'm afraid that some dogs met their end in a very not nice manner. Still, it put me in a good mood, when lately I have been sour toward my self and the world.  My only suggestion at this point is when you feel depression coming upon you, put a smile on your face.   It won't take away the misery, but it does add a sense of absurdity to the mix. - Tosh Berman

May 6, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 6, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Strange day today, due to the passing of a family friend and poet Michael McClure, and of course, being a Kraftwerk fan, I'm off my mark due to the death of Florian Schneider. Death is never a comma; it always the period at the end of a sentence.

I don't know if it's a matter of luck, or I thrive on bad times, but since the lockdown due to the Trump Virus, I have been working steadily.  I now have three writing jobs, and all of them are fascinating.   I can't go into it here, because I feel it's bad luck to write about a future project or assignment.  The dire situation was a month ago, our bank account had nothing but trapped moths, and now there is some hope. I'm grateful for that, no kidding.

When I do go out it is to pick up my mom's laundry, which we do on a weekly basis.  Young people are walking around with no masks, and one can feel the tension of being contained for the past month and a half.  I'm not sure what the psychology is, with people who refuse to wear masks when they are out running or walking on the street or park. On the surface, it seems to be a freedom of doing what one wants to issue, but I think the thinking is more of distrust of the information that they are getting, and it doesn't help when President Virus gives conflicting news, which is tinged with his apparent madness.  Also, a lot of people are selfish.

Late last night, I read a post on a Facebook page of a "friend," saying that it is natural for the old to get sick and die, and therefore as a healthy person, why should he suffer for it.  All he wants to do is work, be with people, and don't see the reason why he needs to protect older citizens.  I posted a comment saying, "that's a tad harsh, no?"  When I went back on the site to read if there was a comment made on my post remark, the entire post was gone.  So, there is the sensitivity of sorts being played out, but in truth, there are people out there who don't care what happens to others, and therefore they feel that they shouldn't be restricted in living their own lives. There is a "Me" and "Us" view of the world. America lacks the collective need or the urgency or the will to sacrifice to do things together for the common good or the health of others.

For me, I have a zeal to stay home.  Every day is a new adventure, and I embrace each day as if it was my last.  My mood changes as if one change their bedsheets, but nevertheless, I'm finding myself optimistic about my life. Still, I'm feeling that American society is reflecting on their dark and dangerous soul.  It's horrifying out there, and if one feels fear, I think that is a natural acceptance. Anxiety, sleepless nights, boredom, and fear are the characteristics of living in America. Perhaps in your world as well? - Tosh Berman

May 3, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 3, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Between reading music-related books for the Book Musik podcast, I have been reading for the past week a memoir by Salka Viertel, "The Kindness of Strangers" (NYRB).  Viertel lived in exciting times.  Born in 1889 and died in 1978, her landscape was Berlin/Austria, and then a move to Hollywood with her three kids, due that her husband, Berthold Viertel, got a job writing for F.W. Murnau, a friend from the old country.  I'm on page 138, and they just moved to Santa Monica, the exact address is 165 Mabery Road.  Not far from the Pacific Ocean.  Salka was a theater actress in Europe during the height of World War 1.  So far, a fascinating document, and now she's in classic Hollywood.

Last night, as I was preparing for sleepy time, which means brushing the teeth, washing the face, and make sure I didn't break the wine bottle nor glass, I heard a voice through a speaker or horn outside. I looked outside my window, and I saw a police helicopter going around and around with a spotlight at a specific area in my neighborhood.  Not on my street, but perhaps on Glendale Boulevard. The voice came from the helicopter, and I think they were saying 'go home' or 'leave now.'  I checked out the NextDoor app that I recently put on my phone, mostly due to crime in the neighborhood issues.   There was a party on Ivan Hill Terrace at a rented air BnB where 100 people or so showed up.

As you know, this is the middle of the Trump Virus, so why are people partying?  And in such high numbers?   I'm going to have to presume that I will stay at my house for at least an extra month or so.  There seems to be resistance to be told to stay home. As I mentioned yesterday, Americans hate to be told to do anything. They are the type of people who climb up on public monuments in other countries. On one level, they're goofy, but when you think about it, why do they exist on this planet?

I started to read the latest issue of Artforum Magazine.  Depending on my mood, I either hate the publication or have a deep passion for it.  The April issue has an excellent article on Beardsley, which is unusual for Artforum.  I have been subscribing to this magazine for at least three years, and I seem to read every third issue as it comes to my house.  When you subscribe to a publication or journal, it feels like homework to read the damn magazine.  It's a mental state on my part, and I'm trying to look at this particular world in a much lighter and pleasurable manner.

- Tosh Berman

May 2, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 2, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

I feel a great deal of anger, but in all honesty, anger doesn't suit my character.  As I write, I'm in my backyard that looks over Fletcher and Riverside, and it's odd to see the buses running.  Are there even people on the buses?  Seeing them makes me feel lonely.  I'm one of the few in Los Angeles that loves to take the bus.  It was one of the spots for me to do my reading and, if enough time, a little nap here and there.

Mother's day is approaching, and of course, there are limited things I can do for mom on this special day.  My thoughts on gift-giving are always practical.  I was thinking of a subscription to the New Yorker, but she told me she prefers flowers and dark chocolate.  Like most of us, she is living within the structure that is her one-bedroom apartment, and she lives alone.  I talk to her almost daily but also text her as well.  When I call, I rarely have anything new to say to her.  I communicate with a great deal of nuances when writing, but a conversation on the phone is not one of my excellent skills in life.  It is another part of the brain at work, and I would be comfortable just dictating words on a piece of paper or the screen to chatting, which I'm not that good at.  Or am I?

A great deal of my time is spent working on a film script, which also entails research.  I wish I could say more about the writing, but now is not the time.  It is a paying job for me, and I love that, of course. I imagine myself as being William Faulkner or F. Scott working in the studios.  I'm a very romantic chap, and this is the headspace where I do my job.

One thing for sure, I will not leave the house unless it's obtaining food or taking something over to my mom and Uncle.  On an emotional level, I kind of understand why people want to gather in crowds or be with others.   And of course, being an American, I also appreciate the feeling that one doesn't want to be told what to do.  It probably brings back bad memories when people were in elementary school.  Therefore they are still acting like children when told that they should stay at home.  There are many wars out there, and we have to remain focused and sharp.  The lack of concern for others is disturbing.  At this moment, I feel the collapse of the system, but there are no plans to replace the sickening Capitalism that is destroying culture, and people's lives.  If I live, and I'm pretty sure I will, I'll make a point to look back at these days, and knowing that it was a peak for me in some fashion.

April 30, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 30, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

Some days are challenging to do any work.  I pretty much spent the day looking at my laptop screen and trying to imagine words appearing in front of me.  Alas, just a blanked screen that mirrors my empty head. I try to go somewhere emotional, but that is dried-up as well.

Early this morning, I went to Trader Joe's Market to purchase some food, but the real reason for the trip was we were out of wine. It is debatable if Lun*na and I are alcoholics, but clearly, we are devoted to wine brand/label "Charles Shaw." We have friends who look down on this wine brand, due that it's $2.99 a bottle. For us, it's heaven on Earth.  We tried other brands, but Charles Shaw has been consistent in taste, and of course, easy on the wallet.  We bought three cases of wine, as well as foodstuff, which is not that interesting. At the Berman/Menoh household, 7:00 P.M. is happy hour, which lasts until one of us falls asleep at night.

The last time we went to Trader Joe's was precisely last month.  We have been shopping online for food, but Trader Joe's doesn't have a delivery service, nor do they use third-party services. So, if one wants the wine, we have to go ourselves.  Again, it was very well organized. All you have to do is follow the arrows up and down the aisles of the market to do your shopping.  The funny thing is I like being told to stay at home, and I love the mechanic aspect of shopping where one does follow instructions regarding the arrows and so forth.

At one time in my life, I adore anarchy.  But now I crave order and designs that take you from point A to Point B.  I get upset when I read people are going to the beach or having parties because it's going against the lockdown world.  Don't get me wrong, I do miss the social life and the ability to go to record and book shops, but other than that, I adore being at home. Not once have I felt stir-crazy or bored. Every day is something to be excited about, such as if I'm going to form words on my computer screen or not.  I explored every area and corner of my house.  Sometimes I even go in the closet and close the door after me, to see what that experience is like.

When I go to bed, it is usually the feeling when I can't keep my eyes open.  I watch a bit of TV, do some reading, and often end the night with a glass of red wine.  Afterward, I lay in bed with great anticipation for the next day.   - Tosh Berman

April 29, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 29, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

I need to walk more. When I do go out to walk, I see other people like me who are thinking of walking for the past few days, and then suddenly, they're out walking at the same time. When I see them, I across the sidewalk to the other side. The problems are, what one should do if two or more are walking toward your direction, and you can't avoid them. The only thing one can do is reverse the trend and go among the others in the same direction. So, my walk is only 1/2 block long, and I'm back in my living room, thinking about my walk, and being aware that strolling in one's neighborhood is a pleasant memory from the past.

From Amoeba Music's website, I purchased The Doors' "Waiting for the Sun." I played it loudly, which made Lun*na closed her studio door. For the past two or three years, I have been criticizing The Doors to friends, enemies, and on various people's Facebook posts. A week ago, I had the urge to listen to the song "Love Street," which is a tune that was a favorite of mine when I first purchased this album in 1968. I was either 13 or 14 years old, and remember having a deep crush on a girl in Topanga Canyon, and whenever I played this song, I thought of her. Playing it now, I still have the memory of having a feeling for this girl, but for the life of me, I can't recall her name or face. My memory never forgets an emotion or a feeling, but people are like ghosts in my life.

I was watching "Columbo" with Ross Martin playing a contemporary snobby art critic who is also a murderer. He had one put-down comment after another, but none of it was witty or wise. Still, I loved watching Martin dealing with Columbo, as the evidence piles up that he is the killer. I fell asleep before the show ended and woke up to another Columbo, where another killer is planning and executing a murder. In my sleepy mind, I couldn't figure out what happened to Ross Martin's art critic. Slowly, I realized that this is another episode of "Columbo," and immediately, I felt sad that I missed the past show. I could have just watched the previous shows' end, but I felt that would be cheating. Perhaps it was fate for me to miss the ending of that specific episode. - Tosh Berman.

April 28, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

April 28, 2020 (In The Year of The Trump Virus) For Marc Weinstein

Mentally I'm reaching the stars, but physically I'm hitting the basement. My legs are achy due that I have stopped my three-mile walks per day. If I listen closely, I can hear the left leg saying, "walk me, Master." The other leg is saying, "No Master, there is another episode of "Wanted: Dead or Alive" to watch. That is existentialism in a nutshell.

I compiled a major playlist for our Nik Cohn episode of "Book Musik." Over two-hours long, it is the history of pop seen through the ears and eyes of Mr. Cohn but selected by yours truly. My co-host Kimley and I usually do this together, but due to the size and zillion choices one can make, it's easier if one person does it. Otherwise, we would be on the phone for hours saying 'Nah, or 'yeah.' The next book we will be doing is a book on The Kinks. We're looking forward to the next episode.

Like a Zen Monk addicted to silence and space, I'm focusing on keeping myself busy. Even in the middle of the night, I find myself thinking about what I will do when I wake up. I'm excited at 3:45 AM, just tossing and turning in expectations of the next day. What disasters will arrive in our world? Sometimes I imagine myself as a prisoner. Oddly enough, I'm a restless soul. I like going out to record and book stores to reimagine a landscape of my choosing. Now, I don't have those types of choices, although I do spend a great deal of time thinking of being in a specific store.

Also, in the middle of the night, I'm thinking about being in Amoeba on Sunset Boulevard. Although the last time I was there, it must have been about two months ago. Still, I can recall each department and section of the store. Usually, when I go to Amoeba, I like to check out the new, used vinyl that just came in, and then I go to the "A" section of vinyl to see if they have that rare Kevin Ayers album. They never do, but it's the adventure of maybe it will be there. Then in alphabetical order, I check out the entire 'rock' section, and that will take me into the back room. I go into the jazz section to see if they have any Andre Hodeir or Michel Legrand albums, and then work my way to the classical section. I see if they have any Glenn Gould or Erik Satie records, and if I fail (which I usually do), I then check out their 20th-century classical music section. Then comes my favorite section of the store, which is the oldies. For the life of me, I don't understand why Scott Walker is in their oldies section. I understand The Walker Brothers, but Scott's "Drift" in oldies?

I end up in the foreign section, where I check out the French section, looking for later Jacques Dutronc recordings, which seems impossible. Then on the way to the exit, I look through Soundtracks, especially the Morricone section. If I time myself perfectly, I can leave the store, and get on the No. 2 bus back to Silver Lake. This is time well spent. Then I get out of bed.

- Tosh Berman

April 27, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 27, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

The one thing about Americans as a culture or society is that they are predictable.  Their Achilles Heel is that they must feel independent from others.  It's a culture that is based on the importance of "Me" than anything else.  If you tell them not to go to the beach, for example, they will feel like a matter of pride, and human right, that they must crowd the coastline as a sign of their importance to themselves.  Also, they are merely bored.  Which I totally understand.  They may live in a small compact structure, and also, there are the issues of them having children, dogs, all screaming to go outside somewhere, anywhere that is not in their restricted living area.  Viruses are a mystery force.  One cannot see it; therefore, one must suspect that it even exists.  If it was space aliens hovering over Los Angeles, that is one thing, but can one be in fear of something that is not obvious to them?  If the day is sunny and warm, it's very American to go out and play among fellow citizens.  For me, I hate social gatherings.  I prefer staying at home and working on writing and watching "Wanted: Dead or Alive" (starring Steve McQueen) on streaming services.

Twice a month, Kimley and I do a podcast "BOOK MUSIK," where we focus on one book on music per episode.  We just finished reading Nik Cohn's "Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom: The Golden Age of Rock."   The book, written in 1968 by a then 22-year old pop music geek, is a masterful form of youth reflecting on the pop culture of the 1950s and 1960s.  Cohn had the knack of praising an artist at the beginning of the paragraph, and by the end of that paragraph, he says they're shit.  Every sentence he writes is argumentive but superbly written.  Cohn and Ian Penman, I think, are my favorite prose stylists who write on music.   Of course, I will probably change my mind next week.

My hobbies at home are watching early 1960s TV shows on streaming services, hating President Virus (that takes a great deal of time, a real time-waster), reading music books, memoirs, and playing records.   What I find horrific is reading the daily death counts on the popular media and social platforms.  It seems my entire generation, the baby boomers, are quickly dying off.  That's a total drag.  The Trump Virus has killed many, and also the aging of the bones and body are working hand-in-hand in eliminating the people I love or respect.

On the other hand, Lun*na and I put up a canvas covering to protect us from the direct sunlight when we sit out and have our wine around 6 in the evening.   We're fortunate that we can spend the time to reflect on the world around us, and in such a manner of reasonable comfort.  Have a great day. -Tosh Berman.

April 26, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 26, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

Naturally, I reflect regularly, and now in Lockdown mode, I resonate with great intensity.   I do have a regular schedule at home.  I wake up around 6:30 in the morning, when the dawn is breaking. I have become sensitive to the natural sunrise and sundown, which seems to be changing much faster lately.  When I read my calendar for something that was last week, it seems a lifetime away, yet in the present, the day goes quickly.

I'm fortunate to have a job.  I may be one of the few individuals on this planet that got a job during the Trump Virus lockdown.  I'm co-writing a film script for a French producer/art dealer, and the work keeps me occupied and not always think about the dangerous situation that we are all in at the moment.  When I do focus on the outside world (meaning outside my home), I shutter.  Still, getting food through Instacart, although expensive, is pretty consistent now, compared to a few weeks ago, where one wasn't sure if they can get food delivered to one's home.  My wife and I pretty much stay indoors, except recently I do go in the backyard and sit in the shade to read.  It's hard to believe that a week ago, it was chilly, but now it is in the 90s, and one wonders how is that even possible?

President Virus puts me in a rage, and I hate the fact that I hate him so much.  I don't have a gun, and the reason why I don't have a weapon is that if I see him walking down the street, I will shoot him.  That is not a good position in life.  Nor healthy.  So, I focus on my work.   I do keep myself informed on what's happening politically, as well as any current information regarding the Trump Virus.

Being in a lockup for me is not that difficult.  I do miss the social interactions of seeing people, even the occasional chit-chat with a Lyft driver, but what I miss the most are libraries, books, and record stores.  I tend to go to shops not only to purchase a book or music but also to unload my mind for an hour or so, by just looking at a bookshelf or record store racks.  Time-to-time I like making the noise at 8 pm, but after two or more weeks of that, it is becoming a chore.  Still, this is nothing compared to the people who are working now in saving lives, serving food either in stores or restaurants, and drivers who are still maintaining bus schedules and Lyft drivers.  I'm not here to complain but to enjoy life.  - Tosh Berman

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 4, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 4, 2020 (In the Time of the Trump Virus)

The last few days, I have to say, have not been dandy. Every day brings another day of horrific news.  It is heart-wrenching to read on Facebook and elsewhere of the deaths that are tied to the Coronavirus.  It doesn't help that President Virus can't help himself, except saying disturbing statements, that sounds like the ramblings of an insane person.  To put trust in him is a no-no from common sense.  Even his supporters must be having a hard time dealing with all of this.  I think his strength is his stupidy.  Some people are comfortable with stupid. They are pleased when the bar does not rise too high; in fact, if it is buried under the ground, 20-miles down, it gives them some relief.

The only thing good about all of this is being secluded from the world. It's just me, my wife, and our record and book collection.  Due to technology, I can still do our podcast Book Musik with Kimley, as well as my current, and gratifying,  writing job.  What I do miss is human interaction with people, and not being able to visit book and record stores.  I miss that greatly.

Today, I didn't take a walk around the neighborhood, due that now I'm wearing a mask, it's hard for me to keep my glasses not fogging up. It's the little things, the so-called devil in the details, issues such as preventing one's glasses, not fogging up.  The struggle is consistent!   On the other hand, I watched and listened to 'The Band That Fell to Earth, which is a tribute Bowie group.  The singer of the band is Julian Shah-Tayler, and every Saturday, he has been on Facebook Live doing Bowie covers.  Such enjoyable fun, and I can also do the writing while he sings away.  Perfect!

In these horrifying times, it's important not to lose one's sense of humor.  Do laugh, because that is good for your soul.  And as the No. 6 says, "I'll be seeing you."

April 1, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

April 1, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

The day went fast. There is a disconnection when I read people’s posts on Facebook, and they are looking for things to do and/or finding enjoyable activity. But for me, I feel very busy at work, and I realize that it is contained in one’s home is usually my typical landscape. Because I’m a writer and was a publisher, the majority of my work took place in my home office. What I do miss is going to the library in Downtown Los Angeles to do work. I noticed when I leave the house to do writing, it feels like work, and therefore what I produced in the library there is something different from what I do at the home office.

Luck has it, I have a paying job staying home, and it’s a writing job. As my dad used to say regarding financial troubles, “The curtain is about to Fall.”  Well, that is precisely my situation until I got this job. It’s a great project, and I’m happy to be involved in something so interesting to me. Still, depression lurks due to hearing people passing away, which is unbelievably sad. One of my favorite films is “Barry Lyndon,” and I remember a scene where Barry joined the Army, and he is told to charge the opposite Army, but everyone in his troop is getting shot down, yet he must keep going onward. The scene is funny but very black humor as he looks at the person by his side get shot, and the fellow in the back of him, being shot, as well as the one in the front, and so forth. Every time I open the computer, I hear of another’s passing, and all of it is just terrible. Death gets closer, and already I have friends who are going through the misery of someone’s death, if not from their family.

My generation, and I was a child/teenager, went through the Vietnam War, but this is the first time I have experienced something that is felt worldwide. The sense of dread or suffering is something that we all share, and I know it’s odd, but I’m almost happy to be part of the world at this time. If I have a good day, I feel I can bring that to the world. Which reading this sounds egotistical, but I genuinely want to entertain you. Have a great evening, and stay at home as much as possible. As one gathers, you can’t really trust President Virus, so use common sense, and with fingers crossed and being aware, we will get through this odd nightmare.