I’m a writer, but there are zillions of writers, perhaps you’ve noticed. This here is a bunch of my stuff. I hope you dig it.
I try to blog at least once daily so there’s a lot of stuff here. You can browse by category or look at some selected essays, stories (non-fiction), neuroscience pieces, jazz writing or smartassery. Some flash nonfiction even.
My LA Weekly stuff can be found here.
My email is firstname.lastname@example.org. My phone is 323-420-7410. I do a lot of short writing on my Brick Wahl page on Facebook, and really short writing on Twitter. I get all professional on LinkedIn, all pensive on Pinterest, and all whatever the hell it’s for on Google Plus. You can even look through my library at Goodreads. I’m all over the goddamn internet and all over this goddamn town.
I am excited to announce that the LA Weekly has gone from fifteen to sixteen of the top news stories for Los Angeles in Google News, with the second place Orange County Register dropping to two stories. But sadly, the how to dedicate a song to Art Laboe piece has dropped to second place after a week long run, and “The Secret Lives of Cam Girls” is now the most important news item in Los Angeles. They get naked, you know.
Not sure what is up with Google News lately, but when I look up the news for Los Angeles I get twenty stories, fifteen of which are from the LA Weekly, three from the Orange County Register, and one each from the Jewish Journal and KCBS. None are actually, you know, of the moment newsworthy. Not today’s news. It’s a nostalgic look at the news of a few days ago. In fact the lead story these past several days has been on how to make a dedication to Art Laboe, so the first news item is about oldies. There’s another about Slutover’s cassette–yes, a cassette–and a late breaking four day old bulletin on the commuter train crash in Oxnard. Fifteen LA Weekly articles is probably more LA Weekly articles than I have read in a decade, and I can’t explain the Orange County Register articles at all, being that Orange County is way down there and I live way up here, just a couple miles from downtown LA. I seem to recall that this city has a major daily newspaper and several regional and local dailies, a dozen or so television news stations and a numerous radio stations, a couple magazines, several local weeklies, innumerable blogs and a 24 hour news cycle, but Google, concerned for my health, spares me all of them. Instead I am comforted by the knowledge that Slutover, whoever they are, have a new cassette. Somehow I think Google News is not getting this whole internet thing.
Wow, Morgan Fairchild is selling me a burial plot of Get TV. I mean I haven’t even started using the catheters yet. I’m not actually sure what they’re for. It’s fallen and I can’t get it up? Or is it a prostate thing. Maybe I should change the subject. Or change the channel. Seems like all the channels I watch anymore are full of AARP and catheters and doom. I’d watch a younger television network but all I ever see is Kim Kardashian’s ass, and he just can’t shut up.
You’re a cheap, lousy, dirty stinking mug, and I’m glad what I done to you.
Well, not you personally, but the cheap, lousy, dirty stinking mugs as a metaphorical concept. That kind of ruins it, though. So, you’re a cheap, lousy, dirty stinking mug, and I’m glad what I done to you, but don’t take it personally.
And stop breathing that clam sauce on me.
LinkedIn can be creepy, man. I mean I just endorsed a dead guy. It was an accident. He certainly won’t endorse me back. No point even asking. I friended a dead guy once on Facebook. Then the bastard blocked me. OK, he didn’t. But I did friend him. No one had told me. He hadn’t updated his profile. I thought Styx was his favorite band, not his location. Actually there are lots of dead people on Facebook. They’re the ones who don’t post pictures of their lunch, and had nothing to say about Kanye West dissing Beck. So you’d never notice. Zuckerberg’s OK with it as long as they’re dead under their death name.
Uh oh, I just endorsed somebody’s cat. Call security.
[from an old Brick’s Picks in the LA Weekly]
When alto saxist Zane Musa takes off it is a sight to behold. He leans into the wind and seems to blow out the crazy chords with every ounce of his being, rocking back and forth in some sort of jazz ecstasy. It’s a style not for everyone—some prefer their players cool—but for fans his wild Bird progressions, gutsy Maceo funk and all that Cannonball seem just right. Those influences and inspirations fuse into white hot flurries and molten blues runs that never fail to kick up the pace on the bandstand a notch or three. On Friday at Charlie O’s he’s backed by a terrific version of the John Heard Trio, with bassist Heard, drummer Roy McCurdy and pianist John Beasley. An excellent way to open up the jazz week.