Just learned I live about 2 blocks from where Leonard Wibberley lived. I didn’t know he was here, but they’re putting up a big mural to some past locals and I saw him. BTW, the mural is ridiculous. You can only see it walking down a small alley. I looked at his house and it’s almost exactly the same as when he lived there. It’s a tiny little bungalow surrounded by McMansions.

You get used to that kind of stuff in Los Angeles. I lived a block from Prince’s nightclub for a number of years. I remember walking by it when the Soul Train Music Awards were going on and I was dressed like a hobo and everyone was super slick. And he hired the Nation of Islam as security and they all looked like they wanted to murder me. At the time, he going through that weird name change and was just a symbol. And somehow I got to talking with them about Prince or something and they would use weird pronouns. This was way before trans rights or anything. No one chose pronouns. It struck me as very unusual. I talked to a homeless dude a bit later–it was a really shitty neighborhood–and he got side work watching cars at the club. The nightclub shut down. I asked the homeless dude maybe it was because Prince didn’t have enough involvement and just wanted a club. Like Johnny Depp and the Viper Room. Or a million other less famous examples. And he said no Prince was always there playing for free. He’d just start jamming.

I was also informed the bar I went to a number of times and rode past a zillion times, used to be where Quintin Tarantino drank. Back when he lived next door in El Segundo and long before he made a single movie or sold a script. I remember reading an interview with him back in the day and he had said he had to get out from where he lived, which was south of LA (El Segundo). He had to move to Hollywood, because even if he’s running at the back of the pack, everyone there is running. And that’s a pretty fair assessment. The Beach Cities are notoriously chill. The video store he worked at was in Manhattan Beach, a mile from me.

Jimmy Hendrix played around here. Where I was today with my dog and complaining about the biting flies.

There’s so much stuff and history you just forget it. I passed Trey Parker maybe a year or so ago(?) when he was coming from a movie theater and I was going in. We have the same trick. Go to the Archlight Cinema late at night when no one is there. We passed in this little alley to the parking lot. No one around. 30-foot concrete walls on both sides. I could have molested him if I wanted. Made him do a Cartman voice. But I was late for a movie and he wanted to go to his car and we didn’t spare more than a glance.

This is coming to me for a number of reasons. I just read something about how everything we create will turn to dust and/or be discarded as trash. And I saw that Mr. Wibberley lived a few blocks away and I never even knew he lived in the city. I’ve been here like 18 years in a city that’s almost exactly 1 square mile. It’s almost strange I wouldn’t know about him.

Everyone will forget you in time. It’s not good. Not bad.

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