Fisherman's Outlet

While out to lunch today, I decided to take my camera so I could spend a little time trying to remember how to work it (this is my good, big Nikon - the SLR - way more camera than I need, but it's kind of fun). So I wound up at one of my favorite places, the Fisherman's Outlet on Central Ave. between 5th and 6th streets in the Warehouse District downtown. This place is great! I had the Halibut Steak for $12.95, plus a small Clam Chowder (New England, of course!) and ice tea. All for under $20. What a deal. It's all outdoor seating, but in heavily shaded covered areas of picnic tables. This is one of those places where the guys behind the counter yell at each other (and at you!) and it's generally organized chaos. Definitely need to go there with someone who knows the ropes the first time. And it's always an interesting crew of diners, too. I love it.

Shepard Fairey – Street Artist, Graffitist, Building Owner, Protectionist.

Uh oh. There’s a little local tiff brewing that’s sort of interesting – or not. Seems that Shepard Fairey – you know the guy who did the Obama “Hope” poster that went viral? – has recently sand-blasted his brick gallery building in Echo Park to clean off all the accumulated graffiti and then covered it with a coat of protective sealant to prevent future attacks – uh, I mean, artwork – from damaging his bricks.

So The Eastsider reported on that with the headline “This is one wall Shepard Fairey wants to keep free of self-expression.” Well, it seems Shepard was not so pleased with the article. He responded to The Eastsider telling them he thinks their post was “very obnoxious” and then dares them to divulge their “home and office address as an invitation for people to display their art there.” Yikes. The comments on his response post are priceless. Ah, artists. Can’t we all just get along?

But maybe another issue here is that The Eastsider needs to figure out where Echo Park really is. I’m with Patt Morrison on this one – the Eastside is east of the L.A. River – you know, Boyle Heights, County/USC, El Sereno, East L.A. – ever been to those parts of town? You can go there now (or soon, anyway) on the Gold Line – it’s safe. West Sunset Blvd. runs through Echo Park. Yes, I know - it feels all hip and trendy to be on the edgy side of town, away from all those horrible Westsiders. But let’s not play with the compass. And let’s give the real Eastsiders their due.

So What is this Edendale Farms?

No, it’s not really about a farm (let alone “farms”). It’s just me and my house in Los Angeles with an avocado and an orange tree. And we’re in Edendale - somewhere between Silver Lake and Echo Park. The post office and the library down the street are both the Edendale branches. Edendale was famous in the 1920’s as the home of some of the first movie studios in Los Angeles. But very few people refer to the neighborhood these days as Edendale, so that’s one of the reasons why I like using it.

And I’m not sure about the Farms part. I love my avocado tree and the incredible fruit it produces - everyone says my av’s are the best. I’m not so wild about the orange tree. It’s pretty, but I’ve never really liked oranges - too acidic for my taste. But I love the idea of the place being a farm. I’ve always thought that if I marketed my avocados (or anything else, for that matter), I’d call the company Edendale Farms.

I actually own a farm - or a couple of farms, really - in Oklahoma. Near a little town called Apache (between Anadarko and Lawton, if you know southwestern Oklahoma at all). One was my great-grandfather Blair’s. All we really own these days is the mineral rights. The other is my grandparents (the White’s) farm and we still own the whole kit and caboodle there. It’s a long story - for another post another day - but there’s a family who farms it and pays my sister and me some percentage of the wheat crop as rent.

OK, I’m rambling. Back to Edendale Farms. So I guess I’m just romantic enough to have decided to use this name to catalog my thoughts about where I am and what I’m doing as a nearly sixty year-old gay man in Los Angeles in the early 21st Century. I guess I think I’m going to plant some seeds and see if any wisdom comes up among the weeds.