| Venice Beach “Good evening,” said the waiter in the clean crisp white apron. “Hi, how are you?” I responded as I surveyed the restaurant's high ceilings, slowly rotating fans, and overblown frameless black and white enlargements of old Venice Beach, California, classic 1920's fuzzy shots of bathers at the beach—in the decades way before the hippies, homeless, pot heads, and stoned-out sidewalk artists and musicians turned Venice Beach into Freak Show Central, USA. “Will it be just one for dinner?” |
“Yes, just one.’’ The bar was to my left; it was short and there
were couples there who looked like they were holdovers from
the afternoon. Their conversations were lively and boozy and
there were plenty of empty tables, so I considered if I wanted to
seek out the comfort of eating at the bar in between and
amongst the couples or just find quiet and solitude at a table. I’
d had a busy day meeting people, driving many miles and
seeing many things, so I opted for a table in the dining room,
up front and next to the window so that I could see others
walking by and take in the final minutes of the orange purple
sunset over Venice Beach.
The Italian restaurant was on a side street off of the main strip,
and I was surprised to find such an upscale eatery when
everything else so close to the beach was mostly stalls selling
food off of grills or fast food places. As the sun went down and
the beach people began to set up camp for the night, I was
attracted to a bright light. So I followed the twinkle of the white
light brightening the buildings and the street and the sky above
and kept walking until I found its source. I’d passed the
restaurant on my way towards the shining light and decided
that I would return to this place after I saw the light.
were couples there who looked like they were holdovers from
the afternoon. Their conversations were lively and boozy and
there were plenty of empty tables, so I considered if I wanted to
seek out the comfort of eating at the bar in between and
amongst the couples or just find quiet and solitude at a table. I’
d had a busy day meeting people, driving many miles and
seeing many things, so I opted for a table in the dining room,
up front and next to the window so that I could see others
walking by and take in the final minutes of the orange purple
sunset over Venice Beach.
The Italian restaurant was on a side street off of the main strip,
and I was surprised to find such an upscale eatery when
everything else so close to the beach was mostly stalls selling
food off of grills or fast food places. As the sun went down and
the beach people began to set up camp for the night, I was
attracted to a bright light. So I followed the twinkle of the white
light brightening the buildings and the street and the sky above
and kept walking until I found its source. I’d passed the
restaurant on my way towards the shining light and decided
that I would return to this place after I saw the light.
| Jimi Hendrix |
by Michael Domino
Copyright © 2007 by Michael Domino
They had been filming a motion picture in front of an old store on a side street; the neighborhood surrounding the
store was old looking and run down, and across the street was a no-name gas station. Nearby there were
tenement buildings and alley ways with dumpsters at the end and shadows of the homeless slinked by as they
sought out places to meet up and drink and smoke and get high and pass out for the night.
Within the small convoy of movie company trucks and gear all over the place, the noise of the big generators
practically drowned out the cars going by on the main cross street. It was as if spaceships had descended onto
the back streets of Venice Beach to scoop up the creatures of the night and suck them up into the blinding rays
bleaching everything in sight.
store was old looking and run down, and across the street was a no-name gas station. Nearby there were
tenement buildings and alley ways with dumpsters at the end and shadows of the homeless slinked by as they
sought out places to meet up and drink and smoke and get high and pass out for the night.
Within the small convoy of movie company trucks and gear all over the place, the noise of the big generators
practically drowned out the cars going by on the main cross street. It was as if spaceships had descended onto
the back streets of Venice Beach to scoop up the creatures of the night and suck them up into the blinding rays
bleaching everything in sight.
Denis Proulx / Shangri-La Studio