#17 Raymond Chandler

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle
# 22 Proximity
# 21 Hollywood Freeway
#20 Kitchen 24
# 19 The People
# 18 Sushi Eyaki

#17 Raymond Chandler

Earlier in this countdown, I mentioned how I prefer my Hollywood to be dark, smoky, and moderately subversive. Perhaps the strongest cause for this desire is my love of crime fiction writer Raymond Chandler. I'm not knocking down any literary barriers here, Chandler is one of the most celebrated writers of the 20th century, so if your familiarity with his work is limited, either skip this entry, or google Raymond fucking Chandler.

The reason I have read Chandler's books so many times, is because I want to be in them. And I don't say this in the same way that a suburban kid listens to the Chronic and wants to be in it; I see it like, if I had my choice, I would be a P.I. in 1940s Hollywood. Phillip Marlowe is more than just a favorite literary character, he is my idol. And I say that with no irony intended.

For the last eighteen months, I have lived as close to that fantasy as I ever will. My home address is a short walk from Marlowe's office in the fictional Cahuenga Building. Many of the streets and hills that Chandler writes about are in my neighborhood. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I believe that the corner of Hollywood and Cauhenga (the real, not the fictional) has been named "Raymond Chandler Square." This is where I live!

Look, I would be a fool if I didn't acknowledge that Chandler's dark, smoky gin joints and speakeasies have been replaced by trendy boom-boom clubs and high-end gastropubs. Furthermore, it is clear that the days of P.I.s and dames in red dresses has given way to the new Hollywood era of an amalgamation of people from everywhere, looking for anything. I know. And these concessions are depressing to me. But that doesn't mean I won't miss living in Marlowe's neighborhood.

As I walk or drive through my neighborhood, the hills, the tallish buildings, the forties-era architecture, the lights, the cars, the noise, they all conjure up the same emotions and sensations that Chandler's writing does, only these are real experiences. I can't describe how much this has meant to me over the last few years. Even Chandler's work in film is nearby. Bogart's Marlowe in The Big Sleep roamed around my neighborhood going to the bookstore on Las Palmas a short walk from my house. Gould's Marlow in Altman's The Long Goodbye lived in an awesome apartment building just up the hill from my house. I know this sounds silly and hopeless, but I have lived in a world of forties-era noir pulp for the last eighteen months, and in three weeks, I leave. I can't believe I put this at 17, because I think about Chandler every morning when I get up.

It is a non-existent reality that I have constructed for myself. Moreover, I haven't even so much as lived within that reality as much as I have fantasized about it. But I have fantasized about this reality from afar before, and I will be able to resume that projection when I move downtown, another neighborhood where Marlowe did a lot of work, just not his residence. In order to truly live in that reality, even in modern times, I would have had to quit my job, set up shop as a private investigator, and begin living in a life of subversiveness, crime, and darkness, something I would love to do, but is probably not within my reach at this stage of history. So what I will miss remains a non-existent reality, or what sane people call: a fantasy. My fantasy however was a little more real in Marlowe's hood, and that I will never forget.

#18 Sushi Eyaki

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle
# 22 Proximity
# 21 Hollywood Freeway
#20 Kitchen 24
# 19 The People

# 18 Sushi Eyaki

People that live outside of LA (especially New Yorkers), like the think LA is a shitty food town. I can say this: It is no San Francisco. That is the truth. And if you are looking for super high-end chef driven motif restaurants, we are strong but well behind New York. Well behind. (though we are catching up) But what's quickly being learned around the country is that where people thought LA lacked, we're actually quite strong. See, unlike real metropolises like Chicago and New York, LA is just too spread out to form a coherent food community. To find the good places in LA, you have to search for them, like hard. Case in point, anyone that thinks that LA has no delis has never been to Langer's. Langer's is hidden away in a shitty neighborhood in MacAurthur Park and recently has propelled LA to the number 1 deli city in the country per David Sax's bestselling book, Save the Deli. The point isn't that we have great deli (which we do), the point is that people complain about our lack of deli after going to Jerry's and Canter's and nothing else. You just have to look.

One of the food groups that I think LA is a dominant force within is sushi. I'm sure that there are great sushi places in Seattle and San Francisco, and I'm sure NYC would have a few hats to throw in the sushi ring, but what LA has is special: quality and quantity. Almost every one of those LA-only corner strip malls has a non-descript sushi place hiding inside. Every neighborhood has every different kind of sushi, from 'spensive to dirt-cheap. And in my experience, they're all pretty good. Personally, I tend to get similar things wherever I go: Albacore, Ahi, Shrimp, Octopus, Yellowtail…and maybe a roll or two. That's generally it, and 95% of the time, LA sushi comes through. Now consider this fact, Yelp! lists 496 sushi places within driving distance (5 miles) from my house. That's almost six-and-a-half sushi places per square mile. That's insane. But as I mentioned earlier, it presents an interesting challenge: the search. The Search For Great Sushi (starring Matt Glassman and Katy Abramson – due out in March 2011 on Fox Searchlight) culminated in a trip to Sushi Eyaki, a tiny little strip-mall sushi place on the corner of Highland and Wilshire.

Completely non-descript and mildly uninviting, Sushi Eyaki is one of the 496 within driving distance and it instantly became our favorite. The place is maybe 650 square feet, it seats, at most, 25 people, and the parking lot (that it shares with a Starbucks) is constantly full. It is our own little sushi secret. Large pieces of fish, not that much rice, fair prices, good sake, extremely friendly service (every time we're there, the sushi chef gives us free shit), and the best seaweed salad in Los Angeles.

And there's something special about finding your own little sushi secret in a town without any sushi-tact. We eat a lot of raw fish in this town, and we eat it almost everywhere. So, like uncovering the Shins eight years ago and treating them like my own band, I have a kinship with Sushi Eyaki that goes beyond the large portions of fish and unreal seaweed salad. I, and Katy, feel a sense of ownership with Eyaki, from the moment we decide to go there, to the moment we pick out our steel chopsticks. It is our little secret and I love it for that.

Now, our new place is within walking distance to Little Tokyo, an incredible 217 sushi places within walking distance. I will be exploring these ones. However, I already have a relationship, a very good one at that, with a place that we searched and subsequently conquered. I do take solace in knowing that Katy's new place is a scant 2.1 miles to Sushi Eyaki, and I will not be leaving it by the wayside, but as I begin to explore a new realm of LA sushi, I will miss that chase. I will miss seeking out the diamond in the rough, and finding it amongst the craziness of Wilshire in the sushi hotbed of Hollywood.

#19 The People

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle
# 22 Proximity
# 21 Hollywood Freeway
#20 Kitchen 24

# 19 The People

We've reached the Bernie Kosar round here. I'm going to try to be as polite about this one as I can, but I've been waiting to do a little West Side bashing, and this is the entry I get to do so on. So if you live in Santa Monica, and you don't want to hate me, you may want to skip to the Anthony Parker round. This could be ugly.

I grew up in the suburbs. But my suburbs were somewhat different than what many people think of when they think of jewey suburb. In my neighborhood, we had people of all races and socio-economic backgrounds. And not just a few token members of each, but a pretty good chunk of our school was rich jews, and a pretty good chunk was rich black people, and a pretty good chunk was people without money. One great thing is that we were all friends. Sure, we usually didn't hang out in the ghet, we were usually at Brown's house or something, but the point is, I grew up around diversity.

I couldn't live somewhere without diversity. Hollywood is not quite as economically and racially diverse as other nearby neighborhoods, but it certainly doesn't lack. Juxtaposed to the city in which I work, a city completely absent of black people, authenticity, and a soul, Hollywood might as well be Bed-Sty. And that is the reality in which I live. Half of my time is spent in the uber-white, anti-other, gated community of a false but perceived "safety" and a lack of anything to do other than shop at overpriced boutiques and dine at overpriced fast food. The other half is spent here, in this zoo.

This place truly is crazy. On a given walk down to the corner, I could run into a guy dressed as Zorro (for no money or logical reason) chatting with a Spiderman. We have the weirdest, most creative homeless I've ever seen, like the lady by my corner who looks like the witch from Snow White, and sports a grown up cat on her shoulder while begging for change. If you go to the right bars, you'll see old men, who have been drinking at the same place for forty years, you'll see the future cast of every TV show on earth, you'll see B-level celebrities every single day who have us reaching for our blackberries trying to figure out what we know them from. We have poor people and rich people eating at the same taco stands.

When my close friend Z visited me last year he was flabbergasted. This is someone who lives in Brooklyn, and not in Park Slope either, in real Brooklyn. One time while at his house, we heard a guy get shot outside. He rides the NYC subway. And he spent his time in this neighborhood in awe. It is a fucking zoo, and I, for one, love it. To be fair, only our little corner of Hollywood is this crazy. The further from Hollywood and Highland one gets, the more normal and down to earth people get, but even those people are awesome.

I have never had such a great kinship with all of the strangers I encounter since I left Orange. Though Hollywood is quite neighborhoody, unlike the suburbs that I work in, it is most certainly urban. There are Bentleys parked behind 89 Escorts on every block. There are writers, and lawyers, and dishwashers, and actors, and bus drivers everywhere.

And here's where I get a little honest and revealing. Santa Monica isn't THAT bad. It's really not. But I always feel out of place there. I feel it is where the cool kids hang out, and I have never been, nor desired to be a cool kid. Whenever I'm in Santa Monica (which is VERY OFTEN), I feel a lack of independent thought, objectivity, and diversity. These are big problems for me, the person, not the society. Hollywood embraces me. It has taken me in, given me everything I have wanted from a neighborhood, and given me the urban experience I need. I will miss the crazies but mostly I will miss being one of a group, even if that group is large, and amorphous, and maybe even a little harsh. When I drive to Santa Monica now, and instantly feel like everything I care for and value in the world is wrong, so I will continue to resent the west side and always have a place in my heart for Hollywood.

# 20 Kitchen 24

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle
# 22 Proximity
# 21 Hollywood Freeway

#20 Kitchen 24


This one is kind of weird. I'm going to make this one quick. Kitchen 24 is a newish 24 hour diner/bar on that terrible stretch of Cahuenga that makes you want to shoot yourself in the mouth. The décor/ambience is consistent with the poopiness outside. The food is fine but forgettable, the service is terrible, the crowd is barely tolerable. I must really be selling you on the place.

OK, let me start over.

To many people, a neighborhood is defined by its bars. Because so much of your interaction with a particular neighborhood is sitting at a barstool, judging where you live based on what kind of drinks are poured and what kind of music is playing at a bar seems like a fine way to craft an opinion about a given neighborhood. I have no problem with this line of thinking. However, in my own judgment, I have a different criteria for how to judge an area: late night dining.

You may think I'm joking, but, as a career bartender, coming home at one AM, two AM, three AM, even four AM are normal to me. Weekend nights are almost always spent either behind the bar, or spending time with the people I don't get to see during the week. Going out is never THAT important to me. However, eating is. I get off work and I'm hungry. Sometimes I'm just home and due to circumstances ranging from lack of dinner to inhalation of smoke, I may be pretty hungry at an odd hour. This is one of the main reasons I couldn't live in Santa Monica. It is also one of the biggest draws to my new neighborhood. My current neighborhood, however, offers on of the best selections for this type of situation in LA.

Kitchen 24 is both the closest, and probably the most reliable of these places. Their menu is big enough, and despite what I said about it earlier, the experience could be quite enjoyable. Maybe I won't miss the people that much, and maybe the 24 hour dining necessity thing will be easily replaced by the soon-to-be-24-hour café that’s in my new building, but for a year and a half, Kitchen 24 has been my safety net. I have gone through the whole menu, from the breakfasts to the meatball sandwich, usually settling on the veggie chili. I have gotten drunk there, I've seen celebrities, I have been there at 9 AM for breakfast, and it's been a pretty big part of my life. Much like a lot of places back home that might not have been super good, but played a big role in my life, I will miss Kitchen 24.

# 21 Hollywood Freeway

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle
# 22 Proximity#

21 Hollywood Freeway

This is a weird one. This is one of those symbolic appreciations for something that it is at once mythical and an everyday nuisance. Perhaps akin to New Yorkers' appreciation for Broadway or white America's obsession with macs, my love of the Hollywood Freeway is kind of stupid.

In California, the freeways are interwoven as part of our lives more than anywhere on Earth. For this reason, and to the why-the-fuck-do-you-care annoyance of the rest of the world, we refer to our freeways with the definite article "the" placed before the freeways titular number. Telling someone to take "the five" to "the one oh one" seems like the only way to give directions, to the point where I have often accidentally told friends that my parents' house is off "the two seventy one." It's just the way it is. Then, Californians go one step further by giving each freeway a geographic name to inform people of where they MAY be going. However, the logic behind this naming process is baffling. Sometimes, a freeway is named by direction such as the ten, which going west-bound is "The Santa Monica Freeway" but east-bound is "The San Bernadino." Sometimes the freeway is named independent of direction like 710, which is always "The Long Beach Freeway." Sometimes a freeway is named for it's terminus, such as the aforementioned Long Beach, or the aforementioned Santa Monica, but sometimes it is named for a minor city it passes through despite an incredibly small percentage of drivers actually exiting in that city (the Santa Ana freeway). There are funny idiosyncrasies, like the 405 being named the San Diego Freeway despite ending 80 miles north of San Diego, or the 90 being the Marina Freeway, despite being 3 miles long and stretching from outside the Marina to the Marina. But curiosities and incongruencies amongst the LA freeway system also give way to mythology.

No freeway, perhaps in this entire country, is as romanticized as the 101. The 101 leaves downtown LA, travels up the pacific coast, hops on the Golden Gate Bridge and keeps going until it rounds the Olympic Peninsula in the top left corner of the country. It was immortalized in America's "Ventura Highway," and has been mentioned in countless songs and films. But to me it's meaning is a something a little different. Living in Long Beach, south of the city, and coming into Hollywood was always intimidating for me. Getting through downtown on the 110, and rounding onto the busiest interchange in LA was always scary. But then you hop on the "Hollywood Freeway" and I always felt instantly like part of it all. The Hollywood Freeway lasts for exactly twelve exits, and about eight miles before it turns into the Ventura Freeway. But amongst those exits are the most exalted streets in America: Melrose, Santa Monica, Sunset and Hollywood. The stretch included sights of the Hollywood sign, Griffith Observatory, and the Capitol Building. Here's where I mention that this stretch of highway is almost ALWAYS jammed up, going both ways, at almost all hours. It is almost always to be avoided. However at dusk, read: evening rush hour, the view of the Santa Monica Mountains dotted with the lights of millionaire's houses is breathtaking, and the towering San Gabriels behind them remind us of our little corner of the country that without them would never be as temperate and desirable as it is.

From the other direction, coming into Hollywood through Cahuenga Pass, past Universal City and into the lights of Hollywood is equally as breathtaking. For romantic purposes, the sign as one passes Barham on the 101 that reads "Hollywood Next Eight Exits" is a beautiful and almost novelty reminder. And for the last eighteen months, I have been lucky enough to take one of those legendary exits on my way home. This may sound like the ultimate pain in the ass, but I assure you it's not. Five years ago, I lived in Washington, right off the 101 (although up there is was just called "101"), miles before its northern terminus, and now I've lived in Hollywood, miles before its southern start. My new exit off the 110 will be equally as bothersome, but not nearly as romantic.

# 22 Proximity

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria
# 23 The Griddle

# 22 Proximity

LA is one of the most sprawling cities in the world. This sprawl can be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, there is no easy way to get ANYWHERE in this city. Unlike New York, Chicago, or San Francisco, public transportation is the last thing you think about when getting around here. The fact that the city is so spread out makes it somewhat difficult to meet up with friends on a regular basis, but it has its advantages too. The thing I love about it here is the plethora of distinct neighborhoods dotting the city. Different bars, apartments, scenery, restaurants, people, and music assures that every time you leave, you're getting a unique experience. Which brings me to my place.

There's a saying in LA that everything in LA is twenty minutes away. This is never truer then it is from 6615 Franklin Ave. From my front steps, you can get downtown in twenty minutes, Echo Park in twenty, Silver Lake in fifteen, Los Feliz in ten, Franklin Village in five, Koreatown in ten, the grove in ten, Melrose in ten, West Hollywood in ten, Beverly Hills in fifteen, even the valley and the beach is in play. I work near the beach, and it never takes me longer than forty-five minutes to get to work. Never. There are plenty of places that are buried in this city. People that live in Brentwood can't get anywhere without bringing a few CDs in the car with them. And that completely changes one's view of the city.

To me, here, traffic is an issue, but never a problem. To me, here, any time someone invites me anywhere; I am never worried about how long it will take me to get there. To me, here, the city is large, and accessible, and vibrant, and diverse.

Furthermore, another great thing about Hollywood is the walkability factor. From my place, Yelp! lists 299 bars within walking distance, 369 restaurants, thirty-four theatres, and one music store that is the best place in the entire city (foreshadowing). People that know me, know I'm an explorer, and my location alone gives me the best possible jumping off point for exploring, for checking out neighborhoods, for drinking with friends, eating, and shopping.

Our new location will be pretty buried as far as LA goes, but one of the best places in town to disembark from LA proper and check out the rest of SoCal, so friends in the South Bay, and friends in Long Beach now are much more accessible, which is good. But the great City of Angels will become a little smaller with a move southeast, which is bad. Might suck a little bit.

#23 The Griddle

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville
# 24 Loteria

# 23 The Griddle


What's always been off to me is the way that American high culture seems to revere food and drink in a way that's very stratified and separated. What I mean is that styles of foods are appreciated by intellectuals only as the style or ethnicity and rarely as a meal itself. For instance, rarely does a liberal intellectual faux-foodie discuss the actual dish they have eaten or plan to eat such as eating duck confit or seafood paella, but instead the discussion is about a particular restaurant's French or Spanish cuisine. Even subcategories stand in for actual meals such as "tapas" or "dim sum." Food is not any particular dish, but instead a collection of dishes making up a particular style of cuisine. These styles are grouped together, usually by cultural origins, but size, or temperature, or season of consumption also can play a part in a grouping. Angelinos LOVE to talk food, and despite most of their inabilities to tell the difference between a cabernet and a zinfandel, they are almost all experts. But throughout all of this stratifying and circle-jerk food discussions, very rarely will a liberal intellectual stoop so low as to discuss the merits of my favorite of the food categories: breakfast.

For a liberal intellectual to discuss breakfast, this discussion better consist of croque monsieurs or eggs Florentine, because the moment you begin discussions of pancakes and waffles, you are immediately low. Unfortunately, breakfast is the King of all Meals, and is not given the respect that other meals, like…say, lunch or dinner are handed. It really is a damn shame to live in a food city as diverse and beautiful as LA and have breakfast shoved to the same corner as chicken fingers and fish sticks. Even traditional foodie no-nos like hot dogs, burgers, and cupcakes are treated like fois gras out here, but breakfast is tossed to the side. Except for one place, on the corner of Sunset and Fairfax, at the Griddle.

The Griddle may or may not have my favorite breakfast in LA, but right now I'm leaning towards "not have." It's certainly not perfect, but every Saturday and Sunday, the line grows outside early and often. Even the celebrities get up early and show up for eggs, coffee, and the biggest pancakes you'll ever see on the planet. On one corner in the city, for two mornings a week, breakfast's place as an unimportant food group, eaten only out of necessity to get to lunch, is forgotten and we all gorge ourselves with espresso-packed pancakes and cholesterol–busting breakfasts.

At the risk of turning this entire project into a series of glorified Yelp! reviews, I'll do my best to limit the sausage sucking. I really just love the food here, I love the atmosphere, I am intrigued as to why the wait staff at a breakfast place consists of the best looking men in the USA, and I won't lie, it's a little intimidating; I love the line outside, I love getting up on a Saturday with friends on the couch and making the pilgrimage, I love missing NFL games in lieu of eggs and pancakes, I am also confused as to why my girlfriend always orders the veggie burger despite being surrounded by eggs, waffles, and pancakes; and I love walking out talking about the food despite the lack of port reductions and charcuterie plates. That's really it for me. It's a great spot, in the middle of the city, that brings out the best in people's appetites, during the best meal of the day. To me, the griddle stands for more than stunningly good-looking men and stunningly large pancake concoctions, it stands for breakfast in LA . . . and that's what I'll miss.

#24 Loteria

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar
#25 Shmutzville

# 24 Loteria


Los Angeles is a city that is desired by many people for many different reasons. Most would argue the sun is the biggest draw, while I would argue the natural landscape is the greatest draw. There are so many fucking draws to this place that every morning I wonder why anyone lives anywhere else. I don't mean that in a condescending way, I mean to read between the sun, mountains, beach, women, music, food, proximity to other places, opportunities, people, shopping, drinking, and everything else, why are you not here already??? It's awesome here.

But of all the draws, one of the more underrated draws, a draw which I never realized I cared about until I would venture home for more than three days, is the Mexican food. I know that sounds retarded, not just because Mexican food is the cheap, overweight sibling in the global cuisine family, but also because Mexican food is not something that should be factor in where one chooses to spend their twenties. Before moving here, my Mexican food experiences were limited to Taco Bell and being dragged to bullshit chain Mexican places by an ex-girlfriend who was more in love with frozen enchiladas than she was with me. (In her defense, what girl can resist a "celebration of food?") Since moving out here, my Mexican food world has changed more than anything other than the way I rate women (in case you were wondering, the correct equation is to take an LA rating, multiply it by 1.1 and add 1, to get her Cleveland rating. So an LA 7 is a Cleveland 8.7, get it?). Taco shops on every corner, trucks parading through the city churning out tacos as if they were popsicles, Oaxacan places, Baja-style…essentially my world has been flip-turned upside down. There are so many different styles of Mexican cuisine that, though I never considered a part of my life before, it has become integral to my daily life here.

But from the proximitity to Mexico, the plethora of Mexicanos living here, and hence the authenticity of the Mexican cuisine derives a problem: Why is "authentic" better than Americanized. My answer to this is: it's not. American style Chinese food BLOWS away authentic Chinese cuisine. Authentic thai is often street cuisine eaten off sticks, which may be good, but cannot compare to my spicy thai noodles. Authentic Mexican however, is a fucking bullshit term because it changes every day. Which brings me to Loteria.

I don't know whether the newish, lightweight 'spensive Mexican place on a touristy stretch of Hollywood is authentic or not, but I do know this: Enchiladas probably don't cost 15 bucks too many places in Mexico. But to that I say, who cares. Loteria has the biggest tequila selection I've ever seen, most of which cost way too much for me to try. They have an incredibly diverse and original menu that has introduced me to many items I have never had before. They also are one of the few places on Hollywood to attract neighborhood people and actually has become a destination on the block. It is not necessarily "American-style" Mexican food; it is more "LA style" Mexican food. Small portions, large prices, original creations, and a clientele that resembles La Cienega and Beverly a lot more than Oaxaca or Ensenada.

And that is what I will miss. My new neighborhood is sure to be chock-full of the best tacos, nopolitos, y tortas in the ciudad. I have no doubt that I will never be lacking in Comida Mexicana in any way, shape, or form. My new neighborhood has throngs of Chicanos y Mexicanos Veros walking up and down almost every street. These are the people that have helped create such a rich culture downtown. But every time I bite into a $1.25 carne taco, or chile relleno, I will miss my 16 dollar enchiladas rojas with a side of cactus salad. I will miss sitting in the sterile, white LA dining room eating high-end cuisine that can paradoxically not be high-end and loving every bite. I will miss the gigantic Loteria cards hanging over the bar, and the tourists walking by and looking in wondering what it is we've found. God I'll miss Hollywood.

#25 Shmutzville

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen
#26 Piano Bar

#25 Shmutzville

This one is personal, and any of the 3 people that have been reading this will have little-to-no mind for anything I'm about to write. I'm writing for me, not for you.

What is Shmutzville? That's where I've been parking for the last eighteen months. You see, in this neighborhood, finding a parking spot is like finding a white chick Tiger Woods hasn't fucked. It's like finding a book you actually want to read at Barnes and Noble. It's like finding a black person in Santa Monica. Quite simply, it's like getting struck by lightning twice at once. So, my roommate and I made a deal: He got the underground parking spot, and I got the bathroom in my room. This forced me to go out and get a neighborhood parking permit. The problem is that parking is only permit NORTH of Franklin. Everything on Franklin or below is open to every tourist, club hopper, or shitkicking businessman in the area. So for me to get a parking spot, I either needed to luck out with a below-Franklin spot, or find one above Franklin with my permit.

The stretch above Franklin closest to me is on Whitley, which consists of exactly 18 parking spots, that are 90% of the time full. So that left a stretch of Wilcox, about a quarter miler away. I ended up parking here about 75% of the time that I came home. It was so far away, that I deemed it Schmutzville. Worse yet, on Sunday nights or Monday nights, morning street sweeping prohibited people form parking on a particular side of the street making parking even harder. I ended up all the way down Wilcox, up a hill, and in some random residential area a good 15 minute walk from my place. I would quickly deem this area "Outer Schmutzville"

So why will I be missing this decrepit part of Hollywood? Because it is my own little corner. Quite literally, Shmutzville was about as close as you can get to the hills to leaving the neighborhood. It abutted the 101 Freeway. It sat quietly beneath the Hollywood Sign with everyone's cameras pointed directly over it, leaving Shmutzville a quiet and deserted stretch of bullshit road.

I will miss having this little corner on the busiest neighborhood in LA. I will miss the long walk past the homelesses, the auto-shop, and the other dry-cleaner that I never used (despite constant complaints about my old dry cleaner). I will miss the peripheral friends asking me "do you have to walk out here all the time?" as if a five minute walk is akin to the Israelites walking through a desert. I will miss game 6 of the 2009 Eastern Conference Finals in which getting out of my car in Schmutzville, and having taped the first half, unaware of anything that had happened, I got a text from SDP that read "Well that was a fun season," prompting me to throw my complimentary meal from work in the middle of the street, leaving it there for the luckiest homelessman. I will miss walking towards the Hollywood sign on my way to my car, parking in front of people's houses no where near my place, and trying to explain what "Shmutzville" is to my friends. And I will miss the serene sense of security that no matter how busy my neighborhood is with bullshit and more bullshit, there's a parking spot for me, no where near my place, but always with my heart.

#26 Piano Bar

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards
#27 Genghis Cohen

#26 Piano Bar

Piano Bar, like so many gems, was a place that Katy and I stumbled upon. Last year on my birthday, after a lovely viewing of Woodie Allen's Vicki Christina Barcelona, we went out in search of her friend's DJ set at a local nightclub. After finding nothing but an unwelcome line and an unreasonable cover charge, we set out in search of a drink. We rounded a corner that I'd never rounded before and found a small, dark, and quiet bar called "Piano Bar." We went in and had a drink.

Piano Bar is just a bar. Nothing fancy, special, or particularly interesting. I order rum and cokes, or Jack on the rocks; just like everywhere else. That's not what's special. Piano Bar is literally footsteps from the boom-boom club scene on Cahuenga Corridor. This section of town is incredibly close to my apartment, yet can be so offensive and repugnant, it has turned me off from even traveling this street at the wrong time. However, Piano Bar seemed to be miles away. A long, crowded bar with an unbelievable outside smoker's patio, and great music such as the Black Keys or Wilco playing on the speakers when there wasn't a band playing. When there is a band playing, it can be garage-rock, low-key singer, or Friday night jazz ensemble. The people, the music, the drinks, the bartenders, even the volume makes this place the ideal bar for my tastes. In fact, now that I start to think about it, I am moving downtown to find more Piano Bars and less Velvet Margaritas.

This brings me to one of the keys about why I love Hollywood. When people from back home think of Hollywood, they think of Beverly Hills. They think of stupid MTV "reality" shows that don't really show anything authentic about what Hollywood is. When soulless phony white liberal intellectuals on the west side of LA think of Hollywood, they immediately begin thinking of crime, the boom-boom club scene, and parking woes. But the true Hollywood, the Hollywood I live in, is nothing like that. It is the most diverse scene I have ever been a part of. The music, the people, the food, and the drinks are so different from one corner to the next that you can be whoever you want to be. You can make Hollywood whatever Hollywood you want. Hollywood is a mythical place romanticized for years and this is why. If you want, it can be loud, gaudy, and the heart of the limo world. If you want it could be low key, high-end, and four-star. Or, for me, I want it to be darker, smokier, and exist among a world of exposed brick, low ceilings, and every different kind of person creating their own scene. The east-side scene is most certainly that: a scene. Same with the west side. But Hollywood ISN'T. Hollywood is itself, paradoxically authentic in its own inauthenticity. And that is what Piano Bar means to me. There is nothing "scene" about Piano Bar. Nothing "authentically" LA, and to me, that makes it authentically Hollywood.

Luckily, downtown, more Piano Bars wait for me, and I could make myself who I want to be there to. But I will miss the people, I will miss the music, and I will miss the little location, on Selma, in the middle of everything, yet hidden away.

#27 Genghis Cohen

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro
#28 Hollywood Billiards

# 27 Genghis Cohen

I can't believe I'm moving away from Genghis Cohen's. The Chinese restaurant on the corner of Melrose and Fairfax has been a goto of mine since I moved to LA. I don't plan on giving up on Genghis Cohen's which is why it is so low on this list, but not being in the neighborhood is going to be a serious bummer. For those that live in LA, you know Genghis's well; you may have a friend who played there once, you may just be in it for the takeout, but Genghis Cohen's is no LA secret. For those who don't, allow a quick explanation:

Genghis Cohen's is a somewhat-trendy-but-not-really Chinese place in the middle of Hollywood. The name surely derives from its location on Fairfax just north of one of the more prominent Jewish neighborhoods in the city. Despite being off Melrose, it manages to retain somewhat of a hip LA feel despite being primarily patronized by the local Jewish community. The bar area is minimal, the wine list is incomplete, the service is standard Chinese food mediocre, but it's still KINDA cool inside. Off to the side there is a small but livable lounge area with nightly live music and an extra cover charge. The dining room is modest and usually filled with the banter of the most annoying people on Earth.

So upon further review, it seems as though I have just as many complaints about GC's as I do praises. While this may seem true on first glance, it is not the dining room or the service that draws me. It is the Gold Shrimp, the Queen Chicken, the full bar, and the location resting beneath the Hollywood lights and in the middle of everything. It is where I went after I got my first tattoo. It is where I went for my first Rosh Hashana in LA. And that's just it. Eating at Genghis Cohen's is just what Jews in LA DO. Almost like dining there is a rite of being-Jewish-in-LA; and now that Genghis Cohen's is a schlep for me to get to, perhaps my LA Jew privileges will be changed from "full" to "guest."

#28 Hollywood Billiards

#30 Hollywood Walk of Fame
#29 Yamashiro

#28 Hollywood Billiards

Hollywood Billiards was the first bar I ever went to in Hollywood. I was there three-and-a-half years ago to watch a Cavs game when I still lived in Long Beach. It's just a great bar. Tons of really nice pool tables. An arcade. Pretty good bar food. TVs in every corner to watch whatever Cleveland Sports tragedy you choose. A pop-a-shot machine. It's just got it all. Let me address each of the above things separately really quick.

The pool tables are abundant and large; maybe a but too large. But their pool happy hour is fantastic, something like 4 bucks an hour for the table. There are really pote players all around, and it sparked a conversation about the bench on the corner of Hollywood and LaBrea that reads "Straight Pool: Jack defeats Ron 100-64." What the fuck is that? Did Ron lose a bet and need to buy the bench ad to shamefully display his pool ineptitudes to the masses? I don't get it.

The patio in the front is fucking awesome. The arcade is small, but contains Mars Attacks pinball; only the best pinball game in the world. Again, the happy hour is so good, that after a few incredibly cheap drinks, Mars Attacks pinball is just about the best thing in the world. Tack this onto the pretty dope bar food and you have a great 5 o'clock hour to drinky. Also let the record show that HB has a pop-a-shot machine, one of many in the City of Angels with my work branded as a high score.

Hollywood Billiards also will be the answer to a future Matt Glassman trivia question: "Where was Matt the last time he watched a crucial Cleveland sports playoff game outside of his own home?" In mid-October 2007 the Cleveland Indians lost to the Boston Red Sox in game 7 of the ALCS. I was at Hollywood Billiards. Never, EVER, again, will that happen. Every single Cavs playoff game has been seen from the friendly confines of my living room since, and will continue too. I woke up the morning after that game an absolute wreck, so much so that I broke up with my girlfriend before noon. However, I never broke up with Hollywood Billiards.

Also, shoutout to the Cuban Bakery, Café Tropical, owned by the same people over in Silver Lake.

#29 Yamashiro

#30 The Hollywood Walk of Fame

Yamashiro

Yamashiro is a high-end sushi place just above Franklin, just below the Hollywood Bowl. Full disclosure, I've only eaten there once, I didn’t have a full meal, and I could probably never afford to do so. So why will I be missing an out-of-my-league sushi place that I only ate at once? Because standing 200 feet above my neighborhood, it is an almost constant reminder that I live not just in "Hollywood" but in "the Hills." I live just below a grandiose and famous Japanese restaurant that people drive miles just to see.

Yamashiro is a beautiful old Japanese style building with a beautiful picturesque pagoda and high-end clintelle. The food is interesting, décor is lovely, and most of all the view is something from a postcard. Standing guard over Hollywood, Yamashiro looks down on everything from downtown to the ocean. On a clear day, Long Beach, LAX, and even Catalina are all visible, and while this is true up and down Mullholland, this is the only vista with four star sushi, and a full bar. It's not even that I love the place as much as I love it's existence: though I rarely if ever do, I could walk to one of the most beautiful restaurants on earth. Every morning as I drive down Franklin, I see that little sign "Yamashiro --→" pointing me up a series of switchback roads up a hill, past a hotel, and into the parking lot of Yamashiro.

It is no secret that I am a romantic, this place just means a lot to me. I'll miss the view, I'll miss seeing it from the road, I'll miss the sign, the only thing I won't really miss, is the sushi.

#30 The Hollywood Walk of Fame

The Hollywood Walk of Fame

Perhaps one of the most famous "landmarks" in LA, the Walk of Fame is also one of the closest. Just out my front door and down one block, I can reach a mile long section of Hollywood Blvd. dotted with stars with people's names in them. The people range from incredibly famous, to comically obscure. These famous people are never, I repeat, NEVER, seen anywhere near their own stars or anyone else's for that matter. In fact, in a town where I have trouble avoiding celebrity sightings on a daily basis, I don't think I've EVER seen anyone even remotely recognizable on this stretch of Hollywood. Yet, for some reason, thousands of tourists flock here daily to take pictures of semi-famous people's names on a sidewalk.

The scene is something that I am not a good enough writer to describe. Furthermore, there is nothing endearing or even nostalgic about this place. I find the tourists repugnant, the traffic a nuisance, and the commerce catering to them irrelevant. But for some reason, I will miss the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Perhaps some of it is feeling like a "native" amongst tourists in a town I moved to in September 2008. I think that has a lot to do with it actually. As I zip by on my bike armed with a dirty look and a New York attitude, I feel as though they are guests in MY home. With big bulky cameras hanging around their neck and annoying children in tow, it is clear that my life is better than theirs. At least that's how I subconsciously rationalize life amongst a sea of pointless tourist attractions.

Perhaps it’s the fact that the powers that be have created a tourist attraction out of nothing. Most attractions have some sort of natural draw: history (Dealy Plaza), relevance (Washington D.C.), natural spectacle (Grand Canyon), man-made spectacle (Mount Rushmore). But the Walk of Fame only exists within itself as a tourist attraction. It's only meaning is that tourists come here to see it. Tourist attractions are tourist attractions second, and something else first. Not this. It is JUST a tourist attraction, and I think I like that.

I like that there is commerce, and traffic, and hubbub in my neighborhood just because there is commerce, and traffic, and hubbub. That is unique. I can't think of anywhere else on this country that exists in itself as a tourist attraction. And then you throw in the crazy people, like the homeless, legless gentleman who goes down the blvd washing stars for no particular reason other than the monotony of having no home and no legs; pepper in the occasional bar or restaurant that exists, not for the throngs of tourists, but the people living near there; and top it off with the open-top Hollywood tour vans full of German's and Midwesterners getting a peek at my neighborhood (for 25 dollars a head), and you have an icon that I will genuinely miss.

Thirty things I'll Miss

Thirty things I'll miss about Hollywood:

As I've informed some of you, after eighteen months of making my residence in Hollywood, next month I am leaving. My roommate, Professor O'fahtchey and I are packing up our boxes, hiring two gentlemen to move us, and taking the elevator up to the twelfth floor of a downtown apartment building. To those of you back home, a seven and a half mile lateral move may seem irrelevant, but in LA, those 7.8 miles essentially represent an Atlantic Ocean of poor-Mexican neighborhoods and gentrified hipster hangouts. We are saying goodbye to a part of town that has been romanticized in books, film, and music for a century; filled with streets that are known worldwide and tourist attractions that sit at the top of most German tourist's guidebooks. And I, for one, will miss it. And so, for the next thirty days, leading up to our monumental migration, I will countdown the things I will miss most. Thirty in all, these things represent where I hung out, how I felt, and what I did during the last eighteen months of my life.

Those familiar enough with the area and cynical enough to live in this city will be quick to point out that a few of these places are not technically within the domain of "Hollywood" or that they are not unique to Hollywood. My response to that is: they are in MY Hollywood. They are a members of a club in which, not only are they part of my Hollywood life, but they will be given up in exchange for newer things with my move downtown.

I hope you enjoy the things that I have enjoyed for the last year and a half.