Venice (Where Art Meets Eviction) - Updated Shirts For Now

My friend Gallo made a classic Venice shirt a bunch of years back, that everyone had/has ... Venice (Where Art Meets Crime). It was funny, because it was true. We all knew it, we all lived with it, we all tried to make the art supersede the crime. Well, now Gallo has an updated version of the shirt to better reflect our current events ... Introducing the Venice (Where Art Meets Eviction) shirt!

Only this time it's not funny, because it's true. And you think it's never going to happen to you - until it does. I was literally blind-sided by my situation, and now find out that my landlord super unlawfully filed my name on the eviction of my psycho roommate in order to get us both out faster ... so now she gets to go to court. And I get to keep looking for a new home in the town that I love that seems to be losing its cool. Money doesn't make a place cool - obviously. The people do. The art does. The traditions do. The beloved spots do (and on that note, Roosterfish re-opens this weekend for a pop-up party before undergoing a little spiff-up to really re-open. Awesome.). Tech companies, big ugly boxes, trendy hipsters, chain stores, overpriced billboard shops, over-hyped restaurants, and all that smack only serve to turn once edgy, awesome places into lame douchebag magnets. Venice is better than that.

Let's all work together to make damn sure that the art always wins over both crime and eviction - which is really the same thing.

Get yours HERE, because you continue to be awesome in spite of it all. TO spite it all.

The Date Rape Of Venice

The guy looks good, seems nice, talks a smooth game, makes her feel special ... then the next thing she knows, she wakes up all dazed out, wondering what happened. If Venice were a human being, I'm sure she'd be feeling date raped right about now.

I've been crazy busy lately, was out of town, and only during the recent Art Walk did I have the time to cruise the whole Abbot Kinney stretch. I felt a little woozy myself. What the hell are all these chain stores doing here? What happened to the Venice Unchained organizers? Why is everyone just bending over and accepting it? It's bizarre. It feels like with the departure of such Abbot Kinney stalwarts as Surfing Cowboys and Jin and Glencrest and Lily's and Capri, the spirit and the HELL NO of the neighborhood may have departed as well. But I hope not.

I've had many conversations about it lately, as you can imagine, and there are very intelligent and thoughtful people here among us who care and have good ideas, but it takes MORE conversation among ALL of us, and then action. ACTION. You vote with your dollars, as you know, and you don't have to spend them at places that don't groove with Venice. (You know who they are just by looking at them ... Scotch & Soda? Flannel? LF? Lucky? GANT? Really?!?!) Then they don't survive, and then they go away. Or you can just accept it all, and live like every other suburban mall-goer in the nation, and forget that you ever moved to Venice because it was different, and meant something special to us. But then the terrorists win. The Venice I moved to would never let that happen.

I don't think it's hyperbole to call it terrorism, either. Corporations are pretty much terrorists against individuality. The way giant stores have gone in and decimated local businesses in small towns across the nation might as well have bombed them, for all the damage they've done. A neighbor of mine called what's happening in Venice "Financial Genocide." Again, no hyperbole, really. The big dollar people have come to town and are systematically trying to get rid of all the people who can't afford their ridiculously greedy terms. And God forbid you want to crash in your car or van like surf bums have since California learned how. Towed. Ticketed. Arrested. B.S. (*Side bar: Of course you will Vote NO on OPDs if you love Venice the way it's supposed to be. Free.)

I recently had to move - again - from a place I really liked, after just a year, because of another sketchy landlord in Venice. This time I was tortured out by constant heavy construction in the downstairs unit daily for 6 months solid. Deafening sledgehammer-type work. Every. Day. There wasn't working water in the bathroom for the whole month of February. There was a film of dust covering everything, every day, even inside the drawers. It could not have been healthy to breathe this in every day. When the landlord, one Mr. Sheppard Solomon of West Hollywood (who told the back neighbor he "just wanted a piece of Venice") and his henchman, Noel Vietor (what a piece of work that guy is), were asked for rent compensation for these outlandish conditions, when they finally responded - which was rare - they sent a text that said, "If they don't like it, they can get the fuck out." Nice. Very Venice. So I got the fuck out, sadly, and that dude then tried to take $1,100 back from the deposit to repair the bath tub they wouldn't ever come to repair. Yep. This charmer (whose main claim to fame and fortune seems to be writing Paris Hilton's "Stars Are Blind" song - great) is now trying to get $3,700 for a two bedroom apartment on Westminster a block from Oakwood Park. Don't give it to him, Suckers.

Right before I moved, I was riding bikes down Lincoln Boulevard with my friend, when he saw a white guy, probably in his 30's, slide the manhole cover in the sidewalk aside, climb out, and do a morning stretch like he'd just gotten up for the day. From sleeping in a SEWER!

We went back later to investigate, but as I have a major rodent issue, and we weren't exactly invited, we decided to let it be for the moment. The image has been seared into my mind though, and the question looms ... Is this what we've come to? If people want to stay in Venice and they can't afford the premium rents we're being raped for, the sewer system starts looking like a good option?! In talking about this with a few people, I learned that this guy from that day is not alone, as descriptions of other people talking about sleeping down there do not match our guy. Wow.

I've been called a bit of a hippie (mostly for my principals I'd like to think, and less my hygiene) sure, but I can accept that change is gonna come. Everywhere. But as my friend Travis Lett said, "Yes, but there's a way to edit the change." I thought that was right on, as Travis and his business partners operate Gjelina, which is a smashing success, but also a very Venice institution. All three partners have lived in Venice over a decade plus, and care about the community to the point where Travis has said that for him, Gjelina couldn't be anywhere else. That's the feeling of Venice to me, that you couldn't be anywhere else. That's why I moved here. That's why I love it here. That's why I thank my lucky stars every time I walk the beach and wave at an old-school local, both of us breathing in the beauty and freedom of being at the very edge of the country - physically and mentally. The beach is still the most authentic part of Venice, and that has to be protected .. and trust me, the corporate letches are coming for it, with some pretty big dollar Rufis to slip in the unsuspecting beach business owners' drinks.

So be strong, Venetians. Don't abide it. The Dude wouldn't (C'mon, it was shot in Venice). You might think it looks all nice and safe around here now, but then you wake up all messed up because you thought you moved to a bohemian paradise, and then you opened your eyes to be just like everyone, everywhere else. Let's work together to preserve what's left that's special and UNIQUE about this place we love.

I'm reminded of the quote by Marcus Garvey now, when he said, When all else fails to organize the people, conditions will. 

Organize, People. Defend your Venice! 


* You can get Defend Venice shirts like the top photo at www.venicebeachhead.org.

Help The Homeless - Even If You Get Busted

Everyone knows I love Venice, and always will. I've just become a little dismayed at the direction things seem to be heading these days, and feel like it should be discussed, pondered and helped.

I recently had to move out of the rent-controlled apartment I'd lived in since the late 90's. I had a nightmare of a situation for years with an overly entitled landlord (Phil Bubar - don't rent from him, ladies) who liked to let himself into my place whenever he liked and do whatever he felt like, which I don't even like to think about. I had witnesses/neighbors tell me about seeing him go in and stay for an hour or so. I'd have friends stay over with just the guest key that works in the doorknob come back and be locked out because both locks were locked - meaning he'd been in there again. I make my bed each day like a military person, and I'd come home to see a sitting mark he hadn't even bothered to smooth out, right next to my pile of laundry. My brother once awoke from a nap to find him coming out of my bedroom, and when startled upon seeing my brother, made up some thing about checking smoke detectors. The last time I know of it happening for sure, I was at home at my desk writing and heard keys in the doorknob, but I'd dead-bolted it so he couldn't get in. Scary! I confronted him and he made up some thing about needing to look at the plumbing. Yeah. Right. We all know this is illegal. I stayed because it was old school cheap rent, rents for tiny little bachelors were now more than I paid for a two bedroom, and when I confronted him about it, he lowered my rent even further. Uh, guilty.

It's a long, ugly story that finally wound up in civil court for our rent dispute (He should be in criminal court, of course, but we never got that video proof the Police, the Housing Board, Tenant Lawyers, etal wanted. My word against his. His spendy lawyer vs. me representing myself, plus I'm so over it and never want to deal with the guy again in my lifetime ...). It's really a blessing in a great disguise. I put up with that deviant situation for WAAAAAY too long, all because Venice has gotten so expensive over the years, and writing is a very financially up and down life choice, so I played it "safe". Which turned out to be very unsafe, by the very person I was paying for years to live in a safe place. Yep.

So I got out. I'm extra blessed to have some fantastic Venice friends who invited me to stay at their place while they were away (Ozier Love Forever!), while I looked for a new place. NOT easy, considering how much Venice has changed since I last house-hunted, and truthfully, how greedy people have become. Total shit holes are going for $3,000 a month! Good luck with that. Anyway, Moving Day came and I had to put over a decade's worth of stuff into storage (after I'd already put most of the stuff out on the curb and watched it disappear immediately. This was fun. I'd do little themes - a straw hat, a hula hoop and a ukulele. Art supplies and paper. A cowboy hat and boots. On and on and all gone in 60 seconds. Signs of the times, I suppose. I only saw one of the people who actually took the stuff, but he seemed jazzed.).


I'd heard all about the raids/sweeps on the homeless living on that stretch of 3rd and Rose that has become a bit of a West Side Skid Row, where the police come through and throw all of peoples' worldly possessions in the trash if they're not watching them themselves. It was a cold and rainy day and I had a whole bunch of freshly laundered blankets, towels, old jackets and stuff that could go to Goodwill, or straight to the people that really need them. So, upon leaving the storage building on 4th and Rose with my two dear friends who were helping me move (LOVE YOU NATHAN AND MARC!!!), I got out on 3rd and went up to the nearest guy sitting on the sidewalk, explained I knew about the raids, and asked if he wanted to take whatever he wanted and share the rest with people on the block. He was stoked, I felt better, everybody wins.

Until driving away about a block later, we see police lights flash behind us to pull over. Great. As if I hadn't already been having the longest day possible, and was nowhere near done. My friends are Aussies and were driving a borrowed pickup, so the "license and registration" request was already out of the norm. I was in the backseat of the cab, and we were all asked for our licenses. One cop was on the driver's side, the other on the passenger. The passenger side one was a little dickhead who I'll forever regret not noting his name, but I was upset and forgot to. Here's why.

"The reason I pulled you over was you were just seen leaving a high narcotic trafficking zone. What business did you have there?"
"Oh, we're helping my mate move."
"Uh huh. Have you met her before today? What's her name?"
"Uh, CJ"

I mean, the guy was implying I was a crack whore right to my face!! I know I was in sweats and no makeup with pigtails, but I don't think I fit the casting, even so. I was getting SEETHING mad, and then -

"We have undercover agents working in the area, who saw you in an exchange with a man on the street."
"Yes, I've heard about the sweeps on the homeless here, and I'm moving, so I gave them a bunch of blankets and stuff. It's cold and raining."
"What did you get in exchange?"

Uh, a warm heart. Is this guy kidding me?! Then his smarmy little mouth I wanted to slap comes up with this outrageous deal -

"Ma'am, are you out on parole? On probation?"
"No, Sir." (that took everything I had to not just unleash the fury I had building, but I didn't need it to get worse, as I still had a whole household to move and very limited time)
"Have you been taking narcotics today? Been drinking? The reason I'm asking is why are your eyes so dilated?"

Hmmm ... I don't know, maybe because I'm exhausted, have been crying, have had no sleep, am having one of the most stressful times of my life. Oh, and shooting heroin real quick while I'm moving heavy items. WHAT?!?! I was PISSED. So he took our licenses back to the cop car and did whatever they do, while my friends urged me to remain calm. After a bunch of minutes, they came back and returned our licenses, asked some more b.s. questions about where did I live, where was I moving to, and suggested we avoid the area in the future. I couldn't even look at the guy. If I ever see him off-duty, it's on. Getting accused of being a crack whore for giving away clean blankets to the homeless?! I've really heard it all now.


This is what concerns me ... If people are going to get in trouble for trying to help the homeless, then they won't. They'll stop trying. And then what becomes of us as a society? It's already happening, obviously, but it doesn't have to be this way. Venice began as a bohemian place for artists and writers and musicians and creative people that moved here because the rents were cheap and there was a true spirit of fun, camaraderie, and the art of living that set it apart from anywhere else. We cannot let that die. I'm pretty sure no one WANTS to be homeless. It always helps to try on someone else's shoes before you judge - or bust - them. Landlords don't HAVE to jack up rents just because they can. That disgusting "Silicon Beach" nickname being tossed around/Google moving in doesn't have to squelch out the whimsical flame that has always burned here. Every store and restaurant doesn't have to be fancy and insanely overpriced - those are choices. Choices based on greed.

There is a reason the Occupy Movement began across the country and the entire world, and all of the above illustrates why perfectly. The greed of some cannot be sustained. There will be an implosion. The ones who have always had each others' backs will be the ones who continue to, and the ones who turned their backs will regret it in the end. That's why I wasn't too bothered ultimately about my creepy landlord deal, because after all is said and done, I still get to be me, and he has to fester in his dirty skin and mind. People who help others get to feel good, and the ones who don't, well ... I don't really know, 'cause that's never been me, but I can't imagine it's at all rewarding at the end of it all to have a fat bank account with an empty heart.


I always go back to my favorite Einstein quote, as it's really all that matters ... "Remember your humanity, and forget the rest." Amen. Let us hope that Venice can remember not only its humanity, but its origins, and remain true to who we should and can be.

Love, Your Venice Crack Whore - with a heart of gold.


* Photos snaked from Google Images via LAist.com (the first two) and KanesKennar.com (the beautiful homeless man one) as my camera was packed up. Thank you!