Art Barter. I would've offered a first born.

When I read about Art Barter, I had to go and try my luck at procuring a new piece of art--the kind of thing one never needs but always wants.

Art Barter operates like this. Works by a number of renowned and talented artists are hung in a group show. Pieces are neither priced nor openly credited to their creator (though some of them are signed or just very characteristic of the artist and therefore pretty transparent). Guests and art lovers then make offers on the pieces they fancy. Non-monetary offers.

Take my offer for barter, for instance. I filled out the 'Offer' field...

 

And then I filled out the entire back too.

My final offer read as follows:

1. A long weekend (4 days, let's say) in my studio apartment in Koreatown, Los Angeles. It's not a lovely building, no. It once was, maybe, but not any more. There are apartments occupied by 5 when there should be one. There is garbage in the hall sometimes. But it's got character. And I've made (I think) the best one can in my own little unit. And dirt & despair inspires artists, so they say - inspires creativity? So really--what I'm offering you--is an opportunity to be inspired. Oh, and you may use my parking spot too. I'd take that if I were you. I got held up earlier this year on a nearby street.

2. If Offer 1's not of interest, I'd be willing instead to send you 1 funny, inspiring email a day for a month. xo

Fingers crossed that the artist responsible for No. 16, an incredible photograph, finds average to inferior living conditions as alluring as I do. If so, I may need somewhere to crash for the weekend when he/she comes to claim what's his/hers.

 

 

You're invited: A very special birthday celebration.

Dear friends, readers & strangers who've taken a liking to me,

You only turn 25 4 times. So, please consider taking time out of your usual Sunday night routines (trips to Target, lounging on the couch in your underwear, and drinking beer at unruly sports bars) to celebrate my birthday with me. Details below...

Sunday, August 15th
7 p - 12 a

R Bar
3331 West 8th Street (b/w Ardmore & Irolo)
Los Angeles, CA 90005

Reasons why you'll want to be in attendance:

* The bar's amazing kitchen will be open for service. So come hungry. Hungry & thirsty.
* There is a jukebox. It's not bad.
* If you don't like the crowd, I'm sure you can find a tacqueria in the neighborhood that's more your speed.
* I promise not to be in my birthday suit. I'm fully aware that after the first 25th, no one wants to see that.
* The party starts early. Get in. Get out. Get to bed by midnight.
* Though Robert Pattinson will not be coming (so his publicist says), I may or may not supply a life-size cut-out of him in the corner for photo opps.

Feel free to invite your friends who enjoy birthdays, celebrations, and me. The more, the merrier they tell me.

RSVP: to jessie.b.rubin@gmail.com by Friday, August 14th so I can let the bar know how many of your beautiful faces to expect.

Hope to see you there!

xo * Jessie

A day and night in Koreatown: Jonathan Gold, BBQ & Soju.

Just in time for the Jersey Shore of Koreatown (yeah, I'm not good enough to just make this stuff up--the SituASIAN has officially been born), my friend and I took to the streets of my neighborhood this past Saturday looking to see what actually happens in K-Town on a weekend. And from day to night...for better and for worse...we found out.

A stop at McDonald's for a soda and a 'snack wrap' for my buddy, led to the realization that not all Mickey D's are created equally. In Koreatown, for instance, the franchise decorates with what can only be described as a hybrid between tiki tacky and religious offering.

At the Koreatown BBQ Cookoff, where esteemed judges Jonathan Gold, Chef Ludo (famous now for his Ludobites), and Sandra Oh (who is qualified to judge a Korean cookoff only for being Korean so far as I can tell) were on hand, I let my friend handle the meat sampling while I checked out the crucial vegatarian fare (soju, desserts and more soju)...

In a quest not to leave a 1.5 mile radius of my apartment, the evening took us to R Bar (home of my upcoming birthday party) and HMS Bounty (home of the previous year's birthday party).

Lessons learned in Koreatown:

1. Dessert is the only Korean food I care to partake in. I knew this...but I enjoyed confirming it with ice cream and Choco Pie.

2. Korean men will hit on me. This is both confusing and ego-boosting. I will not question it...for now.

3. I like to stay close to home on my birthday.

Fitting into my financial jeans for summer.

I have probably bought about 4 dresses in the last month. Then there was the pair of Louboutins that I ordered on that great sale online. The shoes, mind you, don't actually go with any of the dresses. They don't really go with much in fact. They were just sort of fantastic, you know? I'll need to get additional pumps to match my new dresses. In time for the weddings for which I'm still in need of gifts. And hotel rooms. And airfare. There have also been the dinners. The dinners and the lunches and the brunches out. Out at nice restaurants because I just can't be bothered to cook.

Which is all to say that I've gone a bit over budget in recent weeks. I know this first because one couldn't possibly buy that many dresses and stay under budget, second because I came daringly close to a scarcity of funds come rent time, and lastly because I have an account with Mint.com which emails me regularly to let me know I've gone over my budget for shopping and dining out or rental cars and all sorts of other categories of my financial life in which I'd love to spend frivolously.

And while I've miraculously not hit rock bottom yet (there's only so far down you can go when you don't possess a credit card), I decided I'd better put a stop to all this tossing around of money I've got no business spending so long as I still live in a cruddy studio apartment in Koreatown. So I've declared a spending freeze for myself. Well, more like a spending diet as there are some things a girl can't live without. In fact, I've listed just these things that I can't live without and these are the only things I'm permitting myself to buy between the diet's start date (this past Monday) and its completion on April 16th (that is 19 long days away).

Things I'm allowed:

* Groceries (not of the overpriced Whole Foods variety--just normal, staple items which should prevent one from achieving malnutrition)
* Toilet Paper
* Gasoline (not for long road trips, but for the necessary rides to work and other places sprawling Los Angeles demands one travel to)
* Rent & Bills (I am not trying to get evicted during this experiment)

What this means for me...

* Finding a suitable dress out of my own closet should yet another wedding, function or excuse for new clothing crop up between now and the 16th.
* Deleting each of the 10+ shopping newsletters and alerts which appear in my inbox each day. Even if the sale seems too good to pass on. Even if the sale is so unbelievably wonderful that it seems completely irrational and crazy and stupid not to buy and buy now.
* Packing my lunch. Which seems unnecessarily cruel to myself (you would agree if you knew what a poor cook I was).
* Resisting the desire to go to Target to 'see if there's anything I need.' (As it turns out, there is always something I need when I walk into a shop with more than 1 aisle. And usually 'something' costs upwards of $100.)

What my goals are...

* I'm hoping to successfully resist the desire to jump on this season's trend bandwagons until the season has passed. No one really needs a platform wedge for Spring.
* To come out of this experimental diet both alive and with the funds to purchase a new Mac Book Pro and DSLR camera--items with which I can get both practical work done and begin on creative projects I've been stalling on.
* To pad my savings account by at least $500 more than was in there previously.

It all seems pretty simple, yes? Well, let me tell you that this frugality business is hard. And I will also, in the name of full disclosure, tell you that I had a moment of weakness last night. Yes, it was only day 4. And no, it wasn't for toilet paper. I was cold. I needed an extra layer. I didn't have time to stop home to grab something. And yes, I stopped into the nearest American Apparel and I came face to face with this season's nautical trend which I'd promised myself I wouldn't succumb to (nautical was so 2004 after all). And I bought that red and blue striped sweater, damn me. And next thing you know I'm thinking of that one floral accent piece I could really use to finish my Spring wardrobe and the sandals I should really pick up before they're sold out of stores before Summer. But...I will return that sweater tonight. And I will [try not to] think twice about it. It will be a wash and one I can live with.

And thus begins my financial dietary journey. Check back with me in the coming weeks to see how I'm doing, share your budgeting tips, and possibly offer to buy me a drink.

It seems that Spring is springing in Los Angeles.

Since I moved to Los Angeles more than four years ago (god help me, the time does fly), the years have melded together in a way I'd never imagined possible back on the East Coast where turning leaves and occasional snowfalls remind a person that the time's indeed passing. But here in sunny Southern California, each morning's a new opportunity to put on your flip flops and ride with the top down. It's like it's been one long day since I arrived to Los Angeles--one long, sunny day.

That said, the one thing that's reminded me each year that winter--if you can call it that--is over and that Spring's begun is the smell of jasmine on the streets. I didn't know what the white flowers I smelled in even the dingiest neighborhoods was called at first. I just knew that the scent of jasmine was intoxicating.

Last week, I smelled the first jasmine of 2010 from a bush off a cracked sidewalk near my apartment in Koreatown. And I knew that the seasons were changing. And for the rest of this season I would linger a little longer on the jasmine-filled blocks. Even if lingering anywhere too long in my neighborhood is ill advised according to tourist advisory boards and police reports.

A [frugal] Jew's guide to Christmas Day.

I hate to perpetuate any stereotype--and I'm fully aware that Jews have a bum rap for being...how to put this nicely...well, frugal--but this member of the tribe is really and truly low on funds this holiday season. And in an ironic twist, I also happen to love Christmas. Hannukah--I can take it or leave it. Yom Kippur--I'm not going a whole day without food for anything, let alone repentance. But the bright lights, pine-scented trees, and fat, gray-haired, red-suited men of Christmas--this secular Jew will celebrate that any day of the year (well, namely just on December 25th).

This year, however, I'll be stuck in So Cal on Christmas Day--loved ones far away and nary a penny to spend on festivities.

So, here's how I'll be celebrating the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

• Cleaning. Cleaning is free. It is fun. It should take up at least 2.5 hours of my day. Which is a start.
• McDonald's. Did you know that Mickey D's is open on Christmas Day? Well, it is. At least the one in K-Town. Hopefully the checker-playing, elderly Korean men of the neighborhood will be out in full force. Because I will talk to them. And I will join in their checkers game. And I will lead them in Christmas songs. You know I'll do it.
• Movies. No, not the in-theatre kind. The rent 'em at Ralph's from the big vending machine for $1 / day kind.
• Wine. Can you say Two Buck Chuck anyone? Sure you can--just try it.

And if all else fails, I will find out where you are celebrating Christmas. And I will crash.

Greetings meant for someone else.

I live in a medium-sized apartment building in Koreatown.
Which means that there are several who've lived in my unit before me.
And many more who'll reside there in future years, I'm sure.
Which also means that occasionally I still get Jafet R.'s mail.
This often begins with excitement about a hand addressed letter or card.
And ends with me thinking 'oh, I guess another of Jafet's old cronies doesn't know she's moved...still.'
This morning I saw the signs of the season's first holiday card.
And then--yes, of course--came the revelation that it was meant for Jafet.
Well, I've lived here for over 2 years now.
The jig is up.
I opened her mail.
First, I saw the card's cover.
'Beautiful Savior!,' it read.
Aw, criminy. Jafet's got fanatical religious friends. Great.
I opened further. Quoted psalms and a typed up letter. Awesome. More religious propaganda.
I unfold the lengthy, typed up note and begin reading Ron & Barb's 'Christmas greetings from North Carolina!'
Ron has Parkinson's. Barb has cancer. Shit. I feel bad now.
A's husband has thyroid cancer. Okay, this is too much now. This is a hoax. They're going to ask for money.
K and T are still in Durham with their 5 children. They are twins. They're three. They're having fun on the outer banks.
Two couple friends met them at the Cracker Barrel off Interstate 95 in May. It was a special treat. Um, perhaps this is for real. People don't just make up trips to the Cracker Barrel.
Mom's going to be 90 come 2010. Wow.
And--this closes the letter--Ron and Barb want to wish us...I mean Jafet...'a most blessed Christmas and New Year. At times, the future looks gloomy, but God is still in control and [they] thank Him for his protection and grace that He gives [them] each day.'
Barb and Ron have completely put me to shame. They didn't ask me...um, Jafet...for money. They didn't push their religion. They're just super grateful for their family and the twins and the Cracker Barrel and God at the holidays. They're sort of awesome and I consider, for a moment, writing back. Telling them that Jafet doesn't live here anymore. But, if they'd like, they can continue to write.

Giving thanks for: knowing enough to be grateful.

In addition to my gratitude for sugar, sunny LA skies, and other small pleasantries, I am also hugely thankful for so many significant and wonderful things in my life.

Things I give thanks for (in no particular order)...

My friends. I am so lucky to have met so many wonderful folks on both coasts and in between. Thank you for being entertaining and funny, for helping me and letting me help you, for telling it like it is and sharing your wisdom.

My home. I may wish I didn't live in a studio apartment in a dirty neighborhood with no parking. But I am fortunate to have any home at all and I know this.

My family. Thank you for conceiving me, for bearing me, for tolerating me over the last few decades.

My options. I am hugely thankful that I have had the opportunity to shape my own life. I have made mistakes and I have made wonderful decisions and I am all too aware that many of the globe's inhabitants are not so lucky. Having free will keeps every day exciting. I wake up daily--astounded by, and grateful for, the choices that are mine to make.

Awards, assaults and after parties.

You know you work in Hollywood when you can describe the previous night's activities in this way...

* Fought off herds of burly paparrazi men [and that one, sad femme pap as well, poor thing] as they stormed party arrivals.
* Nearly swiped someone's Emmy whilst tidying up a table.
* Hit a famed comedienne in the face (accidentally, accidentally).

You know you live in Koreatown when you can describe the later part of the night's activities in this way...

* Couldn't find a parking spot.
* Walked a 1/4 mile home in the dark, praying to make it to the door alive.
* Discovered a shortage of running water upon arrival home and had to wash soap off hands with bottled water.

Finding zen amidst a sea of slow-ass bitches.

I was going to write about the assh*les driving on the streets of Los Angeles tonight as I returned from my afternoon writing class. About the man at the crowded gas station in Koreatown who slowly cleaned his car windows as I waited to take his place, though his tank had finished filling. About the woman in my class who speaks at a rate so slow that my brain cannot process the meaning of her words, and does so [I believe] in an attempt to seem 'deep.'

But instead, I want to breathe and let it all go. I want to remember the clouds today as they drifted through the sky after the rain, revealing a stunningly blue sky. I want to recall the shadows of pink that hovered above the skyline as the sun was setting this evening as I drove home on the 10. *

* Please note: taking pictures out of one's car window on the freeway is not safe, nor advisable, nor should it be attempted at home. Um, yeah, lesson learned.

Photos: Taken on Jessie B. R.'s Crackberry, 12:45 p and 5:45 p respectively

4 year old takes hooker to school for show and tell.

The above picture was taken this morning on the corner of Vermont and Wilshire on my way to work. I was as shocked as I'm sure you are that this small child had picked up this woman on the street. He kept reaching for her hand, while she attempted to free her hands in order to keep her skirt below hoo-ha level. Kids are growing up so fast these days.

Oh...that's his mother? Well then, I have no words.

Lavanderia communion.

I'm at the Spin Cycle on Pico and La Brea. It's a meeting place for diversity like the United Nations has dreamt about. Young Mexican mothers and their daughters. An African American couple--her sporting large gold hoops and running shit; him, looking like he'd rather be elsewhere. A Korean woman at the front selling cheap baubles and bad romance novels.

A little girl with braids in her hair and a lot of spunk sits next to me and asks me to read to her. She picks up one of the trashy paperbacks between us and I am forced to make up a story rather than read what I'm sure is hot and heavy stuff aloud--I tell her the book's about a little girl and a pumpkin that comes alive out of a book for a day in Los Angeles. The story is bad, but she's engaged. She loves me. She cries when her mother is done with the laundry and it's time to leave and she asks to play with the lady with the boots and the books.

Everyone is eating corn on the cob that's dripping with butter, sold by an old man outside who also sells puffed pork rinds by the bagful. Most of the kids are patient. They sit, they run, they play arcade games. And I watch Will Smith and Bill Pullman fighting aliens in a movie on Fox 11. I don't have cable at home--this is a treat.

Mobile Upload of the Day: Koreatown Sunrise

Downside of living in Koreatown: No parking.

Upside of living in Koreatown: Having to wake up at 6:55 am to move your car and seeing the sun break through the clouds. (Yes, waking up at 6:55 am can also be moved to the downside list.)

Los Angeles in flames.

Los Angeles County has been on fire since some time yesterday or the day before. Yesterday the news of wildfires seemed unimportant as the fires were contained to a region near Santa Barbara which, since I've never been there, seems especially far away. By this morning, the fires had spread to areas I've heard of, have even been to. But still, from what I could tell from the radio coverage, these people knew what they were in for--lived in areas prone to dryness and fire when the yearly Santa Ana winds come through. Tonight, however, I can smell the fire through the open windows in my studio apartment here in Koreatown. In this small space, the smell seeps in and, with nowhere to circulate to, grows sour--like a mix of fire and barbeque and pot smoke. I take a walk outside, figuring I might see the streets ablaze. But people are out per usual. It's Saturday night and no one seems to notice that the air is heavy and smells like ash. Young twenty somethings are out at Le Cercle Super Club, taking advantage of the warm weather by wearing next to nothing. I can smell the cigarette smoke as I walk by and I wonder if they realize they could ignite a Koreatown fire with the next butt tossed carelessly to the sidewalk. I'm scared that, if I fall asleep, I might wake to flames outside my window. I contemplate loading my important documents and belongings--organized for just such an occasion--into the car in case we're encouraged to evacuate. But one can't let these things get to her if she's to live in Los Angeles. If it's not a fire, it's an earthquake. If it's not an earthquake, it's a corrupt police force and pricey plastic surgeons. Those of us who come to live here, come knowing full well what the risks are. And so, knowing that I can probably pack my car in 15 minutes flat with my few posessions and pieces of art and nostalgia, I resolve to calm down, maybe have a glass of wine to fall asleep, and hope the winds have calmed by morning.

For full fire coverage, visit The LA Times

Jessie for President.

The other night on CNN's Larry King, Chris Rock appeared to make jabs at Bill Clinton, compare Palin to Kim Kardashian and support Barack Obama. Oh, and seemingly make Larry and his entire audience uncomfortable.



Chris suggested voting for Barack because he has one house versus John McCain's multiple houses. That if the economy goes down and McCain loses 1/2 his houses, he'd still be ok while the guy with one house gets worried.

I'd like to suggest voting for me, the girl with one studio apartment. That she rents. In Koreatown. Complete with ants in the bathroom and roaches in the kitchen. Jessie for president. Write 'er in.

xo * The poorest candidate for president

Tasers. Pink stun guns. And another deadly move by the NYPD.

Koreatown is safe for a few kinds of people. Without getting into specifics, I can tell you that I am not one of them. From being followed home by strange men in the wee hours to fighting off attacks from water bugs in my bed, residing in K Town has kept me on my toes [keys locked in defense mode on the street, cell phone ready to dial 911].

Upon hearing conservative radio talk show host Dr. Laura advise one of her listeners to get a stun gun a few weeks ago, I toyed around with the idea. A stun gun would serve me well on the streets--powerful enough to have a grown man to the ground, mild enough not to land me in prison where I would surely get beaten by larger, stronger, butcher inmates seeking extra muffin rations in the cafeteria.

I researched a bit and found that stun guns aren't merely tools of defense, they can serve as accessories--an important consideration for the prudent, but stylish stun gun shopper.

They come in pink...











They come in fun animal form...











The Pink Stinger even comes shaped like a tampon (not, I repeat, NOT for insertion).





But as fun as a stun gun may sound, I reserved doubts. In today's NY Times, my doubts were confirmed. Earlier this week, a troubled young man was shot by an NYPD's taser gun, only to fall to his death. If girls around the country can successfully taser a man with her tampon without killing him, what kind of insanely inferior training is the police force receiving?!

Signing off [and still searching for means of defense],
Jessie B. R.

Recommended further reading on self-defense and fun with tasers:
Wired - Defense Gadgets