Road Runner Doesn't Speak

Last night at about sundown, I was out for a walk in my neighborhood when I came upon a coyote meandering up the street. As coyotes often are, he seemed confused deciding between obstacles to avoid, the dogs at his heels or the human in his path.

Cel phone to my ear, I'm sure I represented everything that is wrong with what used to be his mountainous world: the encroachment of civilization on his ancestral home, technology emitting frequencies that disrupt his acute senses, and a creature walking on two legs, to boot. In fact, the only good thing about my presence there, was that I was better than the alternative bearing down behind him.

The dogs and their barking subsided, their owner no doubt avoiding the frackas, and faced with the decision of walking the other way or investigating me, Wiley crept toward me as if wearing house slippers. And then something interesting happened...we started talking. You might think I began to yip and howl. I have my id moments, I'll admit, but this was not one of them. This was not spoken communication, though... it transcended that. This wild creature, probably scared out of it's mind only a few moments before, stopped witin five fet of me and just looked, not threateningly, but curiously, and left all the rest (his worries, his fears, that damned roadrunner and those crazy Acme inventions) behind. And so did I. We stood there for a couple of minutes, not moving, though not tense, either...just a comfortable mutual admiration society of man and beast.

Neighbors in the adjacent house had noticed the coyote as he walked up the street, although the closer he came to me, the more they seemed to stir frenetically behind the safety of glass and wood. During the time Wiley and I stared each other down, their tension seemed to build as if they were saying, "I can't believe what I am seeing! oh my God!"...People tend to overreact, though. Visitors to New York's Central Park take pictures of squirrels as if they were mountain lions. I'm sure coyotes in L.A. are just as exotic and mysterious. We stayed there for a long time. I think we were both truly happy in that moment. Finally, I began to move to my left and the dog moved to his and we did a kind of mirrored dance until we both decided to break and go our separate ways.

The people in the window wildly gestured as if I had done something wrong in allowing the coyote to pass into the driveway and woods behind me. Was I supposed to guard the property in case they had children, I thought? I didn't sign that agreement. I figured that must not have been their issue, then.

One of the women behind the window came to another open window and said something about thinking I was going to be attacked. I said the Coyote and I were simply checking each other out and then realized that the woman was Allison Janney, the actress. For a moment I thought, "who do we know in common? I should make reference to our mutual friends."...but I still had a phone to my ear and I was walking away backwards because I didn't want to acknowledge her celebrity status. Besides, her friends were all chiming in with remarks like, "oh, no! the dingo ate my Neighbor!", so I simply said goodnight and walked off into the evening.

So that's it, only in Hollywood do you run into a wild dog and a celebrity on the same street. In my case, I found it best to treat them both in exactly the same manner...with mutual respect, admiration, and silence.

Polar Opposites

I was recently asked, "if you were on a desert island, which music would you choose to have with you: the Stones or the Beatles?"

Here was my response. In retrospect, I think it was pretty insightful.

Stones or Beatles...it's not a good question. Polarizing questions are never good, in my opinion. But if you have to slice up the world, I'm happy you at least made one stipulation...being stranded on an island. Assuming you had unlimited or renewable battery power, I would choose the Beatles strictly because they offer more variety and after a certain point, too much of anything will drive you insane. All four of the Beatles sang. They went through a variety of phases with styles so different, they ceased to resemble themselves. They embraced a number of aestetics, social issues, cultures and philosophies. They were both irreverent and sweet, surreal and poignant, romantic and inaccessible. I once went to a one-man play in NYC put on by a guy who lauded the Stones for their various textures as metaphor for his fucked up alcoholic and drug-ridden life. The stones embodied what it really was to live a hard life and survive, and they helped him through it all. So I guess the question is, if you're on a desert island, do you want escape or realism? Which would you choose?

I'm in Hog Heaven

...turns out ehw wild boar was just an oversize hog named Fred, a domestic animal who had not been fed for four days. He was sold under the presumption that he was going to be used for breeding purposes. Instead, he was set lose on a game preserve. The former owner came forward because they didn't want the actual recordholder to be stripped of their 'Glory' by losing the wild game record. She regretted saying anything later because of all the attention she got.

Give me a break. Why do people come forward on something that gains national attenion if not for their own exposure and sense that they're missing out. You know what would've got you more attention? A LIVE 1050 pound pig named Fred.

R.I.P. Fred