Though he was born in L.A., Zen died on Saturday, April 10, while visiting his mother in Rosarito, Mexico. We put him to rest here in L.A. (eewwww! The Valley!) near his father Hank on Sunday, and then we had a luncheon at his Uncle Bob's house, and then a rockin' wake-like-thing at Ye Rustic Inn (Hillhurst and Franklin).
The Rustic is where I met Zen. I had just moved to L.A. and I had just seen Roger Waters at the Hollywood Bowl with an icky date I met on the Big Island of Hawaii the previous month. It turns out he had tickets to the same concert for the next day's performance.
Thus, it was Friday, October 6, 2006 when I met Zen. It's so cool that I can pinpoint that.
Anyway, at Rustic on the 6th, the yucky man I was with became sort of aggressive and drunk. I turned to the guy next to me and mouthed, "Help Me!" Zen mouthed back, "Ok!" I got up to go to the gross little Rustic bathroom, escaping the date man, and Zen shouted across the very noise barroom, "Hey! What's your name?" I made him guess, giving him the clue that it's a Rolling Stones song. By the time I got back to my bar stool, which Zen had guarded for me (Rustic on a Friday? That took some work!), he had guessed it, or at least gotten close, and I had his name and number. Bad date dude got the hint and meandered off to squeeze some Barbie's fake tits or something. I never heard from Andy again. :)
I called Zen on my drive home late that night. Bad idea, I know. But I was VERY new to town, and this was pre-GPS and smart phones, and I was accidentally traveling north on the 405, instead of south toward Venice where I lived. Had I not called him, I would have ended up in Sacramento.
That is how ZenZen (what I called him in my head) became my Lawrence of Los Angeles. And so he shall remain. Over the next few days, or weeks, I'll revisit the cool secret LA places he showed me, and I'll take some pictures. He knew this city like no one else, and he made me fall in love with my City of Lost Angels, the city which has embraced me and swept me up in her wings and which hasn't spat me out yet and which yes, taunts me with the glint of gold and the glitter of fame and the sparkle of perfect white teeth and lifted tits and ...
but wait ... the skyline. The huge urban coyote he and I saw together at 4 a.m. in the mist alongside the Hollywood Reservoir. Laurel Canyon and his backstreets he loved. South Pasadena. Abuelitas in Topanga Canyon. Just last Tuesday shuffling through Little Tokyo: ME showing HIM something for once.
A loving passive aggressive vocal competition (how unusual). After he arrives an hour and a half late (HE CALLED):
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know, what do you want to do?"
"I want to do what YOU want to do. We're celebrating your 5-year anniversary at ABC. And your haircut."
"Yeah, but didn't you just accomplish something too? Like, getting your data in Peru?"
"Well, the f--king sushi place I wanted to take you to is closed now. Let's just go get a beer."
"I don't like beer."
"Fine. Tequila."
Fucking Zen.
We never made love in the colloquial sense - never had sexual intercourse - but when we were together it was like we were making the abstract concept of love into a tangible and sarcastic magnetic imp child that everyone could feel. It made me smile, it made you smile, it made our city smile.
I'm going to try to write it and render it visual.
Shine on, you crazy diamond.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-8PtoSSBDI&feature=related
not even gonna fix the typos. he'd roll his eyes at me fixing them anyway. i'd roll my eyes at his hawaiian shirt, his taped glasses, and the fact that he still hasn't fixed his car. it might even be in worse shape now, than when he took it to mexico on friday the 9th. :)
ReplyDeleteAngie- great blog about our boy. I just wrote you a long response and this f@#%@$# thing just went blank. Anyway, I'm putting together a tribute video of Zen and this blog entry is perfect to include- can I record you saying this & maybe something else to Zen? Let me know.
ReplyDeleteThanks,
Sean