Written by Norman M. Klein
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Waiting for Lipchitz at Chateau Marmont, 2016
This would be 2007, and my ruin. Six years later I was wondering whether my vertically blue striped cotton shirt (Macy’s Spring Men’s, circa — also — 2007) would date me and my decline… and, thrilled that I had found a parking space, what a luxury, on Sunset in front of the Chateau, bypassing the ungodly parking fee of thirty dollars a day, which turned into a day after merely three hours, what I believed at the time was going to be about right for my visit with Lipchitz. I now reviewed my plans for refreshing my meter: ten minutes before the one hour countdown, citing irritable bowel, for Jewish screenwriters a credible malady, I would excuse myself and race down to Sunset and stick another eight quarters into the mocking mouth of the machine—mocking because I no longer even had a credit card to swipe into in its new and improved credit card taking format—and make my way back up pausing in the Chateau’s gorgeous bathroom to rinse any sweat from my face.
© Aris Janigian; Los Angeles: Rare Bird Books, A Vireo Book