Hot City Diary: Day 242

The heat has permeeated...pemerated...peeeeeeeeme...snuck into the house. I'd turn on the Air Conditioning but it doesn't help. I play the music to get it out, but that doesn't help either. I rush to the bathroom and step into the shower. Scorched by water that's been heatin' up in the pipe. I jump out and flail about the house. Somebody is screaming. It's me. The pool is the only safe haven, so I open the oven door and make a run for it.

Waves of heat so intense I can feel the hair singeing. Who needs hair anyways. It's just making me hotter.

I slip on dog vomit. There's dog vomit all over the backyard. She's unhappy, too. Am I crazy? I need to drink more water, and obviously send my dog back to Los Angeles. I must-just-bust this feeling. Nonsense. Bain daMage. Losing my grip on things. I must make it to the pool for safety. At first look it seems like it's bubbling, but it's boiling, so I dive deep down to get to the cool water.

Splash.

A light burning feeling and as I sink deeper, I finally find relief. I swim deeper. Fathoms. Lifetimes. After what seems like 20 minutes, I wonder how I can possibly still be underwater. I don't care. I'm going to stay down here forever.

Hot City Diary: Day 1

I'm not painting the new house.  I just painted the house we're renting out to some people from NY who phoned in the rental application.   It took forever to get everything into the fucking moving van and then the drive out here from Silverlake was hell.  I should have known better to leave during rush hour.  Well, it's the last rush hour that I will ever see, because now I live in the desert.  I'm still tired.  It's kinda hot out.

It's refreshing to jump in the pool and wander around my half acre lot.  It's really nice to have so much land to run around on and it looks like my happy little doggie likes it as well.  No longer stuck in her 500 sq. ft. backyard.  I don't think the wife is happy, but hopefully she'll get use to things out here.  I'm sure a beautiful Italian girl like her will start to feel like a princess amongst all the desert rats.  There's only 400,000 residents in the whole Coachella Valley and probably just about 100 people that live up here in the Cat City cove.  It's been dubbed the Hollywood Hills of the Coachella valley and although I wouldn't go that far, it's definitely the West Hollywood of the Coachella Valley.  It's as gay as the day is long.  I think we're the only straight Italian couple.  Well, she's really from Italy, I'm just some 3rd generation mutt with a great grandmother from Sicily.  

Things will be much slower now and hopefully I can get some writing done.  Write that novel that I've always wanted to write.  I'll also hopefully leave all my vices behind.  Stupid Los Angeles and all it's glimmering hope.  Nothing but superficial people and overpriced living.  I was one of those superficial bitches.  Maybe I can change my ways out here.

There doesn't seem to be too many distractions.  I'll still have to get a job and that will take up half of my day, but that's par for the course in any life.  You have to work or else the novel will just be about living under the bridge with some kid with a compound bow & arrow and his bike and drinking habit.  I wouldn't have anything to write on either.  I'm sure whatever notepad I'd buy to write in would just be used for toilet paper.  So the job is essential.  Let's just hope it's not that taxing.

Well, I'll spend the rest of the day in the pool and figure out how to operate all this machinery that the gay couple that sold this house left for us.  Looks like they just kinda ran out on the last day of Escrow.  Leaving all sorts of stuff behind.  Gonna talk to my Realtor about that as well.

May Day

Here we are again.

Cathedral City vs. Silverlake

Silverlake wins.

It's Friday and things in Coachella Valley are getting wierd

Hello Fine readers,

    We are moving ever so slowly into a fabulous Friday.  We've got all kinds of things in store for you today.  Oh wait, this is the Desert, there's nothing going on.  You've got to make something happen out here.  The bar scene is atrocious and there's no place to really go dancing.

The Village Pub does have a dance floor but it's full of Marines and weird locals.

Zeldas is apparently full of the worst element in the Coachella Valley and if you want to join a desert gang then this is the place to be.

Toucans is full of gay men.

Hunters is full of the gay men that don't have the time to go to N. Palm Springs and want to stay on the strip.

Las Consuelas is probably your best bet, but as you dance to the live music, you'll be stared at by every tourist that came to town while they chomp on their enchiladas and drink their margaritas.

"Bar" is probably your best bet as they pull in talent from LA/SF/SD and all over and it's not overrun by gay men.  Well, let's face it, it's Palm Springs and everywhere is over-run by gay men.

The Ace Hotel has a bar and they bring in some fun talent and it's full of girls and guys.  It's also home to several 80 year olds that cruise the dance floor in their wheelchairs.

The dimensional gate

Palm trees.  Cactus.  Various other Palms and succulents are scattered around the property.  The desert gardens seem to be well taken care of.  The pools are empty.  It's so strange.  There are countless pools surrounding the property and they're all empty.  They've been empty since 1985.  Some local kids come by every once in a while to skateboard in them, but then they are never seen again.

The hotel is a Mid Century work of art.  It houses something like 400 rooms and spans over 250 acres.  

But who runs this place?  Where is the woman who opened the property some 30 years ago?

Run as fast as you can

Run.  Run.  Run.

Some new cover ideas for JH Hardy.

Who lives behind the bougainvilleas

Here comes the early morning light revealing you.  Someone is playing in the garden.  It's just a child.  Nothing special.  Maybe her clothes are a little strange, but no big deal.

Lanterns hang in the trees.  The smell of the dry desert wind whips across the great front lawn or what use to be.  Now there are just withered roots and dry, cracked grass that crumbles under Nicolettes' feet.  The only grass that's left is the stuff tucked next to the wall and under the fountains.  The fountains are dry.  That pool over there looks empty.

The resort hasn't been shut down, they've been waiting for the right person to show up and it looks like they've finally found her tonight.  They've been waiting 30 years for this special someone to happen into the place.  This special someone is the runaway.  She looks just like Grandma so it must be her coming back as a child, just like the prophecy said she would.  Nicolette is Grandma coming to lead them.



The group inside are the offspring and they're mostly under 20 years old.  Not one of them are over 20.  They wear clothing that looks like they made it.  A mishmash of things.   A lot of stuff made out of sewn together denim.  There are some strange animal skins thrown in too. Sharp toed boots on some but most are barefoot.  These are the grand children and the great grand children of the initial family that opened the resort.  They have their own laws.  They seem to live in this world that they've made for themselves.  They eat what they grow at the resort.  Chickens roam the property.  Except when it get's really hot during the summer.  Then the chickens come inside the air conditioning.  Nicolette is in charge of the chickens. She'll have to round up their eggs every morning.   She's also in charge of the camp now.  She's greeted with great pomp and circumstance.  Flowers and flower headbands and wreaths and horns and singing.  One of the kids even had a guitar.  They sang a song about someone coming back to save them from what they've become.

One of the kids is smiling really big and says he hopes you'll stay.  "Why wouldn't I?  This looks like a Utopia.  I was being treated badly and now every things great.  I think I even have a crush on steven.  They also talk about wanting to show Nicolette something very important, but not right now. First she's got to get ready for it.  They give you a room and tell you to enjoy yourself but you'll need to start training first thing in the morning.

What is this place?  What is this secret that

The Deserted

Not so far, far away in a hidden corner of the desert lies an old resort hotel.  It's down a long road that winds thru the sand.  A fading piece of the 1950s Modernist dream.  Built by a strong young woman and her family who ran the place for 30 years. In it's heyday there were twelve pools filled with laughter and games and people driving out from Los Angeles and Orange County to get a piece of the action.  It was the largest resort when it first opened and everyone loved it.  Nobody loves it anymore, except the homeless, or so the locals think.  The residents of the mobile home park across the street drive their golf carts around the edge of the property and complain that it's a fire hazard and attracts the wrong elements.  They can't see in.  The hedges are so overgrown and strangely cut by some drunk gardener, no doubt.  The path thru the garden looks treacherous with cacti and thorny trees blocking your every step.  Several dogs roam the property and keep any looky loos from having a good looky loo as they'll make a fuss before you can even approach the fence.

Something happened in the hotel during the 80's and the family closed down the hotel one day.  Everyone was asked to leave and they stopped taking reservations.  No police or ambulance were called and no crime reports were filed for that day, and the community expected the hotel was having renovations or something of that nature.  After 5 years and no renovations the community gave up hope and had a search warrant served in 1985.  The Entire family was okay and in good health, just a little dirty.  Nobody has seen or heard from them since.  Sure, every once in a while someone will have a fantastical story of running into a naked group of people late at night in the wind farm fields, but that's it.  There are wild color shows that can be seen coming from their compound but they never leave the property, and certainly don't let anyone in.

Rumors start to fly around town as they do in small communities.  So many rumors, so little time for most or any of them to be true.  Some of the better ones are: they started a sex & drugs cult.  They steal food from the grocery store garbage bins late at night.  The young woman and her family are responsible for the missing animals in town.  They're cannibals and eat strangers.  Aliens are controlling them.  They are the Aliens.  The young woman is getting ready to go back to her mother planet soon.  In fact the last rumor has sparked a tradition.  Once a year, around spring break, local youths will picket the property with signs asking to get onboard the UFO, take me with you, and things like that.

The young woman was married to a nice young man and they had eight children and 25 grand children.  She's still alive.  He's still alive.  For the most part.  It's hard to explain.  The hotel sits in a strange area up against the mountain range.  Tucked away in a corner like a sock in the far end of the sock drawer.  All nestled up there.  Built into the mountain.

Nobody has been inside the property since the warrant was served in the 1980s'.  Not until today.