Friday, June 17, 2016


I got a request on my previous post from blogger John Gray of Going Gently 
He wants to see a photo of the painting that is hanging above my cat Bosco:

Well, it is actually an antique poster of a 1913 painting by Maxfield Parrish, entitled Enchantment. This particular poster is an advertisement for Edison Mazda light bulbs. 

The original painting is on my header photo, and this is my poster:

 I specifically hung this poster above my bed, because if it falls off the wall and hits me while I'm sleeping it will do only minimal damage (it's framed under sturdy lightweight acrylic). 

I once had a heavy oil painting above my bed. It fell one night and nearly killed me.

I've had this poster since I was eighteen yrs. old and it brings back lots of fond memories. I bought it in an antique shop on Hollywood Boulevard. I loved it at first sight and......these many years later I still love it. It's one of the very few things I have left from my Hollywood days.

My diaries and journals are lost, most of my photos are gone. I'm left with only memories of an incredible time and a fantastic place -  when I was adventurous, reckless, enthusiastic, outgoing. A far cry from the introverted hermit that I've become. 

I also still have this antique owl, that I bought in another small shop on Hollywood Boulevard.

 I had kept the owl on my desk for years. One time long ago, in a blind (and uncharacteristic) moment of rage, I threw it at somebody. It hit the wall and broke apart at the base. I managed to glue it back together and it has endured all these years.

Another of my Hollywood momentos is an antique Turkish hashish pipe made of brass and wood - which I actually used. It might still be around somewhere, packed away. I haven't looked for it.

So why am I mentioning all of this crap? 

Tonight as I look at these token relics of the past, I'm thinking of those long-ago times. And I can almost smell the cool, damp air of a misty California autumn night - when I haunted the after-midnight streets of Hollywood.....

....when I smoked Kool cigarettes and sometimes hash, when I swigged whiskey from a pint bottle that I kept in my coat, and popped occasional quaaludes, when I had a switchblade stashed down the side of my boot....when I thrived on adventure, and was always ready for a sexual encounter....

It was a different time, in a world infinitely far away from where I am now, and I miss it immensely.

 One of the very few photos left, taken when I first went to Hollywood. It was used in a local periodical, in an article about West Hollywood musicians. I was still pathetically skinny - wearing a loose-fitting shirt from India. I also had on the boots in which I kept the switchblade.

This started out about a poster and somehow got lost in a ramble of memories. But for me it was a satisfying ramble.

Am I living in the past?

Nope. But I'm sure as hell missing it.



  1. Each time you tell us about the things you value, you tell us a little more about your sensibilities, about the person you are inside. And ya know what? In spite of the disparaging things you sometimes say about yourself, you are definitely a person worth knowing, and I think you'd be a terrific friend.

    Why was your photo in that magazine with the "Rose Red City" article? Doesn't seem to go with a travel piece about Jordan...

    1. I just completely revised this post and removed the "Photoshopped" picture. That photo was originally used in a periodical called "The Sunset Strip", and was featured in an article about local musicians.

    2. I'm often extremely hard on myself and it's a glaring reflection of all the long-ago self-hatred that I had. It never completely goes away. Despite all the exterior fluff, I am fiercely loyal, intensively sensitive, extremely emotional. Your observations are apt, Susan.

  2. How did your photo end up in a book? There are so many layers to your life! :)

    1. I just completely revised this post. That photo of myself was originally used in a local periodical called " The Sunset Strip" and it was featured in an article about local musicians.

      There are indeed many layers to my life, most of which I never mention because - quite frankly - they would be difficult to be believed.

  3. It's a beautiful painting and so is Bosco.

    1. It's one of my favorite paintings. I love Maxfield Parrish.

  4. You did not mention how you ended up with just a few mementos. Was there a fire? A rapid exit? I have said before "If you think you look horrible in a picture, wait a few years and you'll realize you were gorgeous". IF ONLY we knew how important those moments were, but we all thought we'd be young forever. When you said "Cool" cigarettes, did you mean "Kool"? I'm an introvert to the level of pathetic. I finally accepted the fact I'd rather hold up the wallpaper than be bored to death with humans.

    1. OMG - it's been so long since I smoked that I completely forgot it's Kool not Cool. I've changed the error - thanks for reminding me.

      I sure agree about being bored to death with humans.

    2. As for my Hollywood treasures -
      when I moved from California to TX all of my photos were lost.
      When I moved from TX to TN most of my other stuff was lost.

      And, my father threw out a lot of things that I had stored at his house.
      In essence, we can only count on our memories. Nobody can take them away.

  5. Good grief, but this resonates!
    I, too, am prone to attach memories to certain inanimate objects. Just the other day I was trying to explain to DH how the silly ceramic hen that sits on our window sill makes me smile each time I see it. Not because it's especially cute, but I recall having such an enjoyable time with my DIL and granddaughters in Sedona that I wanted to buy something so I might commemorate that day's happiness.
    Unfortunately, some objects have the opposite effect.

    You're so right. In the end, nobody can take our memories away.

    1. I have always associated objects with memories, and - as you said - some are good memories and others are bad. I think only extremely sentimental people have a knack for doing this.
      This is an affliction that I've had since childhood - - but it's a good affliction.

  6. Jon,

    Oh, you are a thrower, too. I don't do it often, but if pushed far enough I pick up any near by object and throw it. Not at anyone. I always seem to grab something I treasure and it ends up smashed, this included a favorite chair. We need to break this habit and not our things.


    1. I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be - my temper has dwindled in my "old" age. But I have admittedly broken a fair share of precious items in the foolish fury of anger.

      One good thing, I never stay angry for more than five minutes (honest). My father would stay angry for weeks.

  7. I like that picture very much too Jon. By the way, do you ever plan to revisit Hollywood? Pat and I are going back this year at the end of February for two weeks. We would love to have a personally guided tour by you. Wouldn't that be great?

    1. It would be extremely tempting (and I'm sure a lot of fun) to see Hollywood again, Ron. However, it has changed so drastically since I lived there that I'm sure it would be unrecognizable. I have mixed feelings. I'd like to visit there again, and yet I want to remember it as it was.


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