We're in our merry little quarantine zone now, and I figure that’s not too interesting for anyone to read about, and that’s why I’ve been busy working on my Diamondville Chronicles—my past is far more fun to read about than my present.
I’ve gone from being the “guy who plays piano for Neil Diamond” to being “the guy who used to play piano for Neil Diamond,” to the current “the guy who stays home because he’s in the endangered age group.”
The big news yesterday, other than the other big news yesterday, was the $400 million splurge the LA Clippers took to purchase the Forum, a spot which we frequented (is 35 shows frequently enough?) over the years, most recently in August of 2017, and where we achieved a fair share of glory.
So now I’m inspired to venture back into the last century, to a little year I like to call 1992. We were playing at the Forum, then known as the Fabulous Forum, and lodging at the J.W. Marriott hotel in Century City, even those of us who live in LA. Each afternoon, we would all ride a tour bus from the hotel to the Forum. It was an unusual way for many of us to see our town, especially for locals. This was how I described it in the PBI at the time, 29 years ago:
Commuters with Computers
The drive from the J. Fred “Muggs” Marriott Hotel to the Great Western Omelet and Forum each day has turned into a quasi-commute for our Diamondville Touroid Trolley riders.
Having seen “Grand Canyon,” some expressed concern lest our land shark malfunction and strand us on the streets of Inglewood. They can rest easy, since the mayor here has sent out a letter to the media stating that the streets of his city are safe and that the movie was a load of crap. Our driver carries a copy of that letter at all times, so we are assured of no problems. With those fears allayed, we were able to sit back and be regular commuters, growing familiar with some of the landmarks which—during a shorter run in an unfamiliar city—would be commented upon in a smart ass manner and forgotten, such as:
•The Joan Crawford Day-Care Center. What’s the dang deal here? Is it a joke? Do they allow wire hangers? The PBI, in its eternal quest for knowledge, decided to call the Center during our day off. We learned that there is an actual Joan Crawford who runs the place. She sounded terribly nice, and she assured us: “I’m alive and in living color.” She asked us to toot the horn as we go by, so we’ll ask the driver to do so tomorrow.
•That big hospital on Prairie Avenue. Touroids are asking: how does it feel to wake up in one of those rooms overlooking the cemetary? We didn’t call, but think we can safely say that it’s better than NOT waking up!
•The automobile wax museum at Washington and National. Old Thunderbirds, Edsels, Corvairs and other collectors’ items, sitting out in the open air. Pick up a souvenir?Why aren’t there any Fieros there?
•Angel-ettes of California. Here’s a great opportunity for the graffiti-prone. Perhaps if Arch was simply to prefix his name to their sign, we could all feel more at home.
•Dreamgirl. What is this place and what are they up to? One theory: it’s where they make those inflatable sheep that Doc Johnson sells to the world.
•Sadly missed: the Holy Moses hamburger joint seems to be terribly defunct. Maybe if we had stopped there a few times, it would be thriving.