Lizandro rests his arm on the brim of his classic Volkswagen van’s driver’s side door, taking in the cool winter air of the Mar Vista Rec Center. A group of men congregate nearby, drooling over what will soon be a tasty ceviche dinner. One of the men asks for the tomato and Lizandro points to the picnic table. He should know where it is—he was the one who bought the food. Not that Lizandro is rich. In fact, he’s homeless. Voluntarily homeless. Lizandro and is one of a growing number of Los Angeles residents living in his vehicle. According to last year’s Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority census, over 6,000 vehicles were being used as residences, an 85% increase over the previous count. Due to...
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It's Labor Day weekend and I sit in the passenger seat of my friend Dawn's Cadillac Escalade, following a line of European coupes and late-model sport utility vehicles as we wind our way up the switchbacking highway cutting through the heart of the San Bernardino National Forest. Our destination is Lake Arrowhead, where Southern California's ultra-wealthy holiday on the balconies of their mile-high vacation homes and behind the wheels of their six-figure speedboats. For a part-time wage-earner and emerging writer, it's lifestyle shock to the max. . I was invited to spend the weekend here as a guest of the family and I reluctantly accepted. The more social...
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It will soon be time to call it quits on my Calabasas experiment--or will it? Dawn's downtown library project is underway, and I'm proud to say that my involvement has been the spark that's kick-started her back into action. By helping design, organize, and help labor through organizing the over 10,000 books she has laying around to make the library a success, Dawn's been re-motivated to make regular trips down to the center to ensure the facility is prepared for their arrival. The books will soon be ready to be transported downtown, and we're hoping for a grand opening before the holidays. There's much work to be done yet, but I feel satisfied I've done my part to help Dawn realize her library dream. My...
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We thought we were going the right way. My friend Paul and I had set out on a plan to hike up Shepherd's Pass in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, with the goal of climbing both Mt. Williamson and Mt. Tyndall on the same three-day trip. Physically, we were prepared, having independently tailored our workouts to the rigors of the 30+ mile roundtip topping out at over 14,000 feet of elevation. Our route was mapped out, too, along with precisely how much food, water, and equipment to bring along for the trip. As long as the weather held up--and it appeared that it would--the only thing standing between us and the summits were, effectively, ourselves. "What could possibly go wrong," I said to Paul. We...
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I stroll up the stairs to my place, using the soft hum of guitar strings to guide me in the right direction. It is the perfect way to put a night cap on the last night of my vacation in Belize, a place I might not have had the time or money to visit had I chosen to keep a full-time job and an apartment. The cool breeze of the Caribbean swayed tickling validation all over my smiling face. This was exactly where I wanted to be. Where I was is a place called Caye Caulker, and island known for its proximity to world class barrier reefs and a motor-vehicle-free dirt strip that breathes life into the islands' only town. I couldn't have taken my truck-home here if I wanted. So instead, I snatched up a shockingly cheap...
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I've decided to accept a room for the summer. In a house. For no rent. It' a deal too good to pass up. A friend of mine, Dawn, has been offering to allow me to stay in her extra bedroom in Calabasas for some time. Initially, I was unwilling, out of principle, to accept her offer, either for rent or for free. Renting, save for a few moments of weakness when the endeavor seemed ever-so-briefly palatable, is something I've eschewed since December of 2012. The hefty budget line item has simply not been worth the commensurate time and energy needed to devote to it, particularly when focusing my efforts on so many (speculative) film and writing projects. Plus, Dawn's home is a long commute from my work and...
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It was an hour before the Saturday night darkness gave way to the morning sun--4:40am, to be exact--and I was sleeping soundly under the camper shell of my truck. I was parked in a new spot for the night, near Los Angeles' La Cienega Boulevard, eager to cut down on travel time between to closely scheduled work shifts. That night's shift ended at 2:00am, so I hustled back to my truck, pedaling furiously on my Novara 18-speed to finish my night and catch as much sleep as possible before my 10am shift the next morning. I locked my bike up to a wrought iron fence ten feet from my parking spot and crawled into bed. By 2:45 I was fast asleep. So far, so good. Because it was a warm night I slept with the passenger side...
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Occasionally I use space on this page to endeavor to update you, my valued reader, on what the heck is going on in my life. On a public diary/blog, no less! So novel! Ah, so after a long layoff, here I go... It was the Friday before I submitted my completed article to Salon.com, and I was driving from South Los Angeles after a long day of work. My destination was due north, to the nightclub where my evening shift would start a few hours later. The asphalt sweltered under the 90-degree high as I peeled off my work clothes and drove through Central Los Angeles, desperate for a spot to pass out. With a 5-hour intermission between a 13-hour double shift, I needed the rest. LA's urban greenhouse was hardly the...
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I pulled up to the corner lot and pulled into one of the few spaces in front of the building. It was a nondescript place--a closed garage door with an unmarked door, next to a corner store selling canned food and liquor. Maybe I had the address wrong. I'd given myself enough time to stop in and say hi before leaving for my flight at nearby LAX, but in a neighborhood like Inglewood, one can't be too sure. As I picked up my phone, the garage door swung open. There stood my friend, M. in the doorway. "Morning, amigo," M. said, waving me in. "I saw you pull up. You learn to watch your space closely here." M. and I had been neighbors years ago in Venice Beach, friendly acquaintances in a building full of beach...
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This segment is an extension from a recent series of posts on how I constructed a home in the back of my truck. Click here for Part I and Part II. After detailing the construction of that tiny home in the back of my truck, it seems only natural to explore the benefits and drawbacks of living within it. Naturally there are many of both. On any given day, I might sway one way or the other, but in general these dozen or so factors are what keep me motivated--or complaining. PROS 1. It's stealthy. Everyone who sees my truck from the outside is surprised it's livable. I've awoken to people leaning on my truck, talking with a friend as they smoke. They had no idea I was inside, listening to them debate the...
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