#kid’s playgrounds Los Angeles

[kidsworldfun]

In search of kid’s playgrounds in Los Angeles where your children may have fun? Visit Kids World; it offers some wholesome, delectable meals and various entertaining games and activities for both kids and parents.

[ashtonsunshine]

he's having fun x

[funkidsworldla]

Are you tired of the same old indoor birthday party routine? Why not take the celebration outside and let your child's imagination run wild? In this post, you will capture some of the enticing advantages of arranging outdoor Los Angeles Kids Birthday Parties. Stay connected!

[sassyfrassboss]

So on Easter Monday I met up with an old friend of mine. She’s kinda known due to her work but it’s unimportant to me tbh. But due to her work she has some friends, contacts and colleagues across the board and industries.

What I’ve heard is that Doria and Harry do not get along, not one bit. She and Meghan are awful and downright abusive to him, my friend knows one of their close friends who is also very shocked by it all. But Doria and Meghan know to not leave visible marks. But they are not stupid and have sneakily got evidence of him being threatening and attacking back - drunk Meghan has loose lips.

Doria acts like it’s her house in Montecito and is a little dictator who thrives on drugs. My friend says that what she heard is that Doria deliberately got Harry into things like ayahuasca and it’s because of her that he’s so dependent on drugs. Meghan just does things like coke, marijuana etc.

Nobody sees the kids. My friend has kids and her friend in Montecito has meet-ups and play dates with each other. No sign or sighting of Archie and Lili playing on swings or slides at the playground or mixing with other kids in the neighborhood. Many kids do this and also mix with kids from their kindergartens, schools etc. but apparently Archie isn’t allowed to do so or even go to birthday parties. Some of the kids attend the same school and teachers hate Meghan, Harry and Doria for what they’ve done to Archie and thankful for the nannies looking after him 24/7. There has been nothing said about a birthday party for him either this year with little school friends.

Meghan is away a lot, my friend has a link to the Getty family and is looking into that affair thing. She is in Los Angeles a lot and Harry goes to San Francisco and the Bay Area a lot leaving the kids with nannies and nurses alone in the house as Harry doesn’t want Doria living there without him there. There was an incident with a cook or maid though, that’s become quite well known in Montecito and everyone laughs at it in a way. But they are definitely finding it harder and harder to find not just nannies but also cleaners, pool boys, gardeners etc. although it’s not just money troubles but the close friend of theirs that my friend knows says that Meghan has been dropping hints of them sleeping separately, not together and divorcing.

It’s also true that the school that Archie goes to has been instructed to call him HRH Prince Archie of Sussex. Lili is apparently at an ultra exclusive daycare in Los Angeles funded by Tyler, who my friend knows. The kids seem to be kept apart from each other and not just other kids.

So the rumors were that Meghan has been living in LA or close to because SB is a couple hours away right? So if Lili is going to school there then she has to be close.

I think all three of them are toxic and abusive.

I really wonder how much they pay out for their staff to sign NDA’s.

Thanks! Tea alert!

[thislovintime]

June 1967.

“The Wolves meet The Monkees! This happy picture was taken in Los Angeles where Wolves are representing the city in the North American League and show them getting together with the world-famous group, who soon after left for a tour of Europe. Back (left to right): Graham Hawkins, John Holsgrove, [Peter] Tork, Mike Nesmith, [Micky] Dolenz, Davy Jones, Fred Davies, Dave Wagstaffe, Les Wilson, Phil Parkes, Gerry Taylor, Dave Woodfield, Derek Dougan, Ronnie Allen (Manager(, Peter Knowles, Mr. John Ireland (Chairman). Front: Ernie Hunt, Terry Wharton, Dave Burnside, Alun Evans, Pat Buckley, Bobby Thomson.” - Sports Argus, July 1, 1967

“In Manchester [Dave Wagstaffe] was a playground playmate of Davy Jones of the Monkees, who is a regular at Wolves games when not on tour. ‘Davy and I used to play a lot of ping pong and five-man soccer as kids. He has invited my wife and I to spent some time with him here next summer,’ says Waggy.” - The Los Angeles Times, July 13, 1967

[acowardinmordor]

There are a lot of fics where Steve and Eddie lose touch and Eddie has a horrid fiancee that keeps them apart, and I love them, but I decided to let Eddie have a healthy and supportive partner for once.

-----

Five years after they graduated -- barely graduated, and it wouldn’t have happened at all if it weren’t for their long standing bet. Four years after they last spoke -- social media likes and inane comments didn’t count. Four years and a day since they woke up together -- too young and stupid to have anything close to a mature conversation about the night before.

Four years and a day of wondering how to fix it. 

Sixteen years after they met -- fighting in the playground because… they didn’t remember why they fought, only that the mandatory sessions with the school counselor were how they became friends and then best friends. 

On the first of December, after all of those years, Steve scrolled through Instagram, and found out that Eddie was engaged. He knew Eddie was dating someone. A tiny, perky, endlessly smiling girl he met after moving to Los Angeles, who was so far from the kind of guy Eddie was when Steve still knew him that it didn’t seem possible they could get along, let alone date. Let alone get engaged. 

But there was a picture, and a ring -- a slim silver dragon wrapped to hold an emerald between a wing and the face -- looked exactly like something Eddie would choose. Oh, not a dragon, a wyvern. Steve heard that lecture enough times that the difference was permanent in his head. 

Steve liked the post, added the same basic comment he had put under a dozen other high school contacts engagement photos in recent years, and closed out the app before he went to work. 

*

Nothing would have come of it if Robin wasn’t officially coming out to her parents now that she was moving in with her girlfriend, and going back to Hawkins from Seattle with Kara, and; therefore; if she hadn’t demanded that Steve be there for moral support. He went. Of course he went. He moved to Seattle because Robin asked him to come with; going to Hawkins for two weeks during the winter break was nothing on that scale. 

Absolutely nothing would have shifted the awkward, empty silence between Steve and his once best friend if he hadn’t retreated to a coffee shop, banished by Robin so he would stop helping her dad with chores around the house. 

Steve would never, ever have made waves or raised his voice or thrown a fit, or done absolutely anything to interfere with the life Eddie was living. The things he thought about when he got a little drunk, or saw a picture from back then, or something reminded him of Eddie -- those were his problem to deal with. Not Eddie’s.

He was happy. He was engaged. 

It didn’t matter that Steve hadn’t had a relationship longer than two weeks since high school. It wasn’t important that the only friend he really saw was Robin since all the kids he used to babysit were still in college, and scattered around the country. There were a few coworkers at the middle school he chatted with sometimes, but nothing more. The fact that there were a couple creased and worn pictures from highschool tucked around his life had nothing to do with why his friends were moving onward and upward, and Steve was still waiting for something he couldn’t define. 

He wouldn’t have done anything. That was the point. 

But Eddie and Chrissy rushed into the shop out of the flurry of snow, and Steve was sitting right there. Eddie didn’t say a word. Chrissy recognized Steve immediately.

Left to their own devices, Steve and Eddie would have maintained the status quo. Maybe a manly nod. Toasting with coffee cups as one of them left -- it would be Steve who ran first. 

Chrissy -- bubbly, happy, pulling off a fuzzy hat and brushing snow off her scarf -- had other plans. 

She gave Eddie her order, dragged an extra chair to the tiny table where Steve was sitting against the wall, announced that she’d heard all of Eddie’s stories about him, and started talking. And talking. She knew it was a wyvern, and she explained in a hushed whisper why the custom high fidelity percussive earplugs she got Eddie for Christmas were going to be perfect for him at concerts and practice. 

By the time Eddie joined them with a small tray and a smaller smile, Chrissy had Steve wrapped into conversation. She pulled details out of Steve to fill in the stories that Eddie had shared over the years. 

She teased them both relentlessly for the time they dared each other to climb higher and higher in the forest behind Steve’s house, resulting in a sprained wrist and a fractured shin. 

And, through something that Steve was sure was witchcraft, got Steve and Eddie talking. Bantering. She poked and prodded, innocent on the surface, until they had to join forces to push back on her attacks. 

Four hours later, when the cafe staff finally demanded that they leave, half an hour after closing, Chrissy had Steve’s number in her phone, they had followed each other on every possible social, and Steve -- yeah, she didn’t look like the kind of partner he expected for Eddie, but he understood why they were together. 

Chrissy was undeniably, unstoppably, inescapably great. She made Eddie happy.

She gave Steve a big hug, then rolled her eyes and gave obnoxiously clear instructions on how to hug someone until they both gave in. It was -- she’d cracked the silence between them already, but the hug she insisted on swept the rest of it away. 

*

Steve tried very, very hard, on the flight to Seattle, to convince himself that he would be okay with the distance returning. That he would be okay with not talking to Eddie again. 

He landed, took his phone off airplane mode, and found an entire saga of photos, videos and commentary from Chrissy as Eddie tried and spectacularly failed to get their Christmas tree down the stairs to the street. It was only after Steve responded with half a story from middle school and several cackling gifs, that he noticed it was a group chat with Eddie. 

*

It was amazing. It was horrible. It was constant. 

The first day back after break, Steve forgot to silence his phone before classes -- normally not a problem, only Robin texted him, and she was at work too -- and his phone buzzed itself off the table as Steve pretended it wasn’t happening. His third period class was never going to let it go. 

Twelve years of friendship, then a four year gap, and Steve suddenly had his best friend back. First was the group chat. Then a private thread with Chrissy as she sent him backstories and explanations for Eddie’s references. 

Then, a private chat with Eddie -- started when he sent retaliatory photos of Chrissy right after waking up because she sent photos of Eddie covered in glitter. 

It wasn’t instant. It didn’t fill the hole left in Steve’s chest after so many years of silence, but it built a bridge. 

It was like archaeology. He and Eddie, their friendship, was this buried thing, forgotten and hidden beneath the soil while they went on with their lives. As time passed, more and more of his idle daydreams had been dropped, then layered into the dirt, then covered and forgotten. The further you dug, the more vulnerable the fragment you found. 

And Chrissy was a determined excavator. 

There were a few nights where Steve lied and claimed he’d lost his phone, because the conversation brought up something that ached, and he couldn’t stay in the conversation. During one, after Chrissy asked why they’d lost contact with each other, Steve left his phone in the classroom, and walked around the school until the sun set. After a few hours of both Steve and Eddie’s silence, Chrissy sent a link to a tiktok compilation of animal fails, and pretended it wasn’t excruciatingly weird. 

He thought sometimes she was doing it on purpose. That she was rooting through their pasts and trying to hurt Steve with it. Vengeance or possessiveness. But it just wasn’t. 

In their private chat, she started sending him video clips of Eddie getting an alert from Steve. Pointing out how bright he smiled, how fast he answered, how he was, no questions asked, happier now that Steve was back in his life. 

When Steve asked them if they’d started looking at venues, or dates, or even a general time for the wedding, Eddie answered. Chrissy didn’t. 

Right before Steve’s spring break, Eddie clocked his head on the edge of a cabinet, gave himself a concussion, and couldn’t text. They spent most of the week on the phone. Steve had grading to do, and Eddie filled the silence better than putting on netflix. 

After that, it never went back. They still texted, but he and Eddie were on the phone at least three times a week for hours. Sometimes it was shared time as they cooked. Sometimes it was arguing about a new show or movie. Sometimes it was Eddie tormenting Steve with invented names and terminology for sports just to make him laugh. 

*

In early M ay, a month before a planned trip down to California to meet up with them in Napa Valley for a wine tour, Steve got asked out by a clean cut, stunning man at the gym. Steve turned him down kindly, then offered to spot his squats. 

That night, Steve realized why he had no interest in dating. 

The next day he let Eddie know he was busy, and couldn’t do their usual tuesday call. 

*

He spent that month carefully extricating himself from that bubble they’d made. They were engaged. They were going to spend their lives together. Eddie was happy. Chrissy was so nice that if she didn’t keep up with both of them on teasing insults, Steve would have had a freakout long ago. 

Eddie asked if he was okay. Chrissy asked if he still wanted to do Napa. 

Steve told them both it was just temporary. End of the year, and the first time he was the sole teacher. Lots of pressure. Projects to grade. Forms to file. All of it was true, but it came together as a lie he sold them. 

*

Napa was gorgeous. Sunny and bright and California had been lucky with rain that year, so there was no haze of forest fires in the air. Their rooms were near, but not next to each other. They did hikes and wine tastings and went to a massively overpriced restaurant in their nice clothes -- and then went to find ice cream after, starving after nine courses, the largest of which was two bites. 

The last day there, sunbaked and giggly after the tour group had included two of the most flamboyantly pretentious couples Steve had ever seen, they warned the waiter they’d be there for a long time, promised a large tip, and settled in to talk about where they might go next. 

Eddie was lobbying against anything that involved so much nature and hiking. There were castle tours in Europe and haunted house tours, and abandoned town tours in the States. Steve, wanting to watch another wounded monologue, insisted they should do Sequoia or Yellowstone next. 

Eventually, Eddie turned to Chrissy for backup and she smiled too gently. 

“Why did the two of you stop talking for so long?”

Both of them stammered through garbage answers as her smiled deepened. 

“Neither of you are subtle, you know? Both of you love to talk, and you love to tell stories about back then. It’s been pretty obvious this whole time that something happened, and ever since you sent that photo of you at Pride with Robin, I’ve known. I was just waiting for one of you to say it. But, it seems like a waste not to do this when we can all talk in person.”

Eddie tried to talk while Steve paled. 

Chrissy laughed and grabbed one hand from each of them. 

“Breathe, darling. Both of you. You aren’t in trouble. I’m not mad. I am done waiting for the two of you to figure it out on your own. Eddie, I’m running out of ways to stall you putting down deposits. You loved each other. That’s why you fell apart. You loved each other and you didn’t know how to say it, and silence was easier than being vulnerable about it. You still love each other. Don’t -- I’ve had a front row seat for the last six months. You love each other. I know that. But I don’t know what you want that to mean.”

She slid the ring off her finger and set it in the center of the table. 

“I am not giving this back, and I’m not breaking things off, Eddie-bear, but I know how much you love your symbolism. I’m just taking it off for now, and I’m going to leave it with you. Steve, you make Eddie happy. And I’ve been chatting with Robin. Eddie, you make Steve happy. You need to talk about this, and figure out what you want that love to mean. Friends can love -- Friends should love each other. If that’s what you want, okay. If it’s not just friendship, okay. But I’m not going to be the bitchy fiance getting in the way of whatever it is that the two of you have going on.”

Chrissy smooshed her fingers over Eddie’s mouth to stop him speaking.

“You need to talk to him, not to me, lover boy. I love you, and I am very confident that you love me. Loving you means that I want you to be happy. You’ve been happier in the last six months than I’ve ever seen you. I want to marry you. But not if you’d be happier with someone else.”

Steve tried to interrupt and she smooshed a hand over his mouth too.

“Stop that. Neither of you are allowed to leave this table until you talk it out. I can’t hold your hands through it. You’re not teenagers anymore. You know what you need to talk about. I’ll have the waiter bring you more coffee.”

*

They got chased out of the restaurant two hours later, and ended up sitting on a patio well into the night. The conversation ran in circles as both of them tried to apologize and take the blame, and both danced around outright admitting that Chrissy was right. 

Slowly, they managed to outline enough of the truth that they understood each other. Nothing dramatic, no hollywood-perfect kiss under the moonlight. 

They didn’t make a decision that night. 

Or the next morning. 

Steve got back on the train after a long, too-tight hug between the three of them, and they drove back to Los Angeles, with an engagement ring hanging from a necklace beneath Chrissy’s shirt. 

They continued to text and call and chat. Steve and Eddie didn’t talk about in any big way, but when they found something they thought was forgotten, hiding in the soil, they didn’t keep it secret. When they tried to leave it be, Chrissy showed up with a metaphoric shovel, and made them keep at it.

Steve didn’t want to break what they had. He didn’t want to be the one to say it and put any kind of demand on Eddie’s plate. She wasn’t wrong, and every time they uncovered some new piece, Steve had to tamp down the urge to ask. 

The three of them planned a trip to Sequoia for right before fall classes started. 

*

The last night there, sitting around a fire on the deck around the hotel, Chrissy rolled her eyes at them both. 

“If I say it first, do you think you can at least admit that it’s true?”

Her laugh was as bright as it ever was when they both spluttered. Slipping the chain from her neck, she closed the clasp and held it out, across the gap between the chairs towards Steve. 

“Probably too early for you to wear that, but it’s not mine anymore and all three of us know that. It won’t fit you as it is. It might not ever fit you. Maybe you need a different ring. Maybe you need a dragon not a wyvern. Sapphire not emerald. Maybe you two don’t want rings at all. I don’t know. But I think you two need to stop dancing around this. Eddie, if you do end up giving him a ring, I have first dibs on being your Best Man. I will fight Gareth if I have to.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then stood to get to Steve. Stealing his keycard from the table, she kissed his forehead. 

“Rent in LA is disgusting, so I’ll try to keep him out of his head for the next few months until the lease ends. Keep making him happy. Keep letting him make you happy. And keep in mind that I have blackmail material on you both if you try to run away from the chance to keep that kind of happiness.”

*

It wasn’t the kind of nuanced and mature conversation a counselor or a therapist might have wanted, but when they woke up in the morning, they smiled, and neither ran away. There was nothing certain between them, no ring, no promise, no guarantee. Their tentative efforts to admit how deep this ran were far from over. 

The idea of letting Eddie see how much Steve needed him still made him shake. The idea that Eddie might see it and choose to leave made him want to run. 

He spent four years wondering how to fix what they broke. 

He didn’t have the answer, but he’d found enough pieces of what they lost -- found them and cherished them and longed for more. He and Eddie didn’t have any manual for how to fix it, but they knew what once was, they knew where to dig, and they knew better than to let silence bury it again

*

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!

#20yrsago VLC will play iTunes Music Store tracks https://memex.craphound.com/2004/03/25/vlc-will-play-itunes-music-store-tracks/

#15yrsago British local governments deploy anti-teenager pink lights designed to make kids ashamed of their appearance http://architectures.danlockton.co.uk/2009/03/26/anti-teenager-pink-lights-to-show-up-acne/

#15yrsago Congress considers inventory of spectrum use in America https://memex.craphound.com/2009/03/25/congress-considers-inventory-of-spectrum-use-in-america/

#15yrsago Live notes and streams from the FTC’s hearing on DRM in Seattle https://web.archive.org/web/20090329200416/https://teleread.org/2009/03/25/ftc-drm-town-hall-meeting-now-in-session/

#15yrsago Ankle weights save tippy strollers from forgetful parents (like me) https://web.archive.org/web/20090327143337/http://www.parenthacks.com/2009/03/add-ankle-weights-to-umbrella-strollers-to-keep-them-from-tipping.html

#10yrsago Oh No Ross and Carrie: podcasting investigative journalists join cults, try woo, and get prodded — for science! https://memex.craphound.com/2014/03/25/oh-no-ross-and-carrie-podcasting-investigative-journalists-join-cults-try-woo-and-get-prodded-for-science/

#10yrsago Judge tells porno copyright troll that an IP address does not identify a person https://torrentfreak.com/ip-address-not-person-140324/

#10yrsago AT&T to Netflix: if you don’t bribe us to do our job, you’re asking for a “free lunch” https://memex.craphound.com/2014/03/25/att-to-netflix-if-you-dont-bribe-us-to-do-our-job-youre-asking-for-a-free-lunch/

#10yrsago LAPD says every car in Los Angeles is part of an ongoing criminal investigation https://gizmodo.com/los-angeles-cops-argue-all-cars-in-l-a-are-under-inves-1547411605

#10yrsago Big Data Hubris: Google Flu versus reality https://gking.harvard.edu/files/gking/files/0314policyforumff.pdf

#10yrsago James Kochalka’s “The Glorkian Warrior Delivers a Pizza” https://memex.craphound.com/2014/03/25/james-kochalkas-the-glorkian-warrior-delivers-a-pizza/

#5yrsago Chinese censors incinerate entire run of a kickstarted Call of Cthulhu RPG sourcebook https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9Urosc-JEY

#5yrsago London developer makes last-minute changes to lock poor kids out of “communal” playground https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2019/mar/25/too-poor-to-play-children-in-social-housing-blocked-from-communal-playground

#5yrsago Peak Indifference: are we reaching climate’s denial/nihilism tipping point? https://www.wired.com/story/peak-indifference-on-climate-change/

#5yrsago Rebooting UUCP to redecentralize the net https://web.archive.org/web/20190324140104/https://uucp.dataforge.tk/

#5yrsago The Vessel: a perfect symbol for the grifter capitalism of New York City’s privatized Hudson Yards “neighborhood” https://thebaffler.com/latest/fuck-the-vessel-wagner

#1yrago The Golden Rule (them what has the gold makes the rules) https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/25/consequentialism/#dotards-in-robes

[lawrence-eagleburger]

SERIOUS NON LEAFS LAWRENCEPOSTING

A couple days ago I was out in the city with my friend Elie sitting at a Venezuelan fast food spot after hopping between a couple bars, throwing down fruity cocktails and old fashioneds all the same, punctuating the Galaga and Tetris games I got my ass kicked in at the arcade bar and the hilariously crude dirty covers at the dueling piano bar. It must have been three in the morning; I’ve never been the kind of person to spend a night in the city, but as I’ve grown into an adult I’ve found a certain love for it.

I grew up in the rural nothing of the American Midwest, where the closest largest metropolitan areas were a three hour drive either north or south, and a fun evening out consisted of cracking open a bottle of Crown Royal while listening to the cicadas scream and watching the fireflies dance and accompany the stars and moon; there is a serendipity to that, but it is a deeply asocial exercise, save for the four or five people you’d be laying on the grass with.

Partially because of that (with other factors playing a role, surely), I have found myself with a deep, yearning love for people, without the vocabulary necessary to connect to them — this is why I have been filling journals until moon gives way to sun for years, writing until my hands turn numb — and I suppose it makes sense that people don’t make any sense when you never see them.

Salt Lake City is, by the anecdotes of my more urban, well travelled friends, a child’s playground compared to the chaos of Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia (and I have fond memories of the lattermost, having spent many summers there with my family), but it has been the backdrop against which I have been able to first experience the shenanigans that young adulthood brings — what young adulthood *should* bring, at least.

I moved out to Utah after the sudden passing of my mother, escaping a world I thought I would live an entire life and die in, and I despised it. The culture made no sense to me (it still doesn’t, honestly), the religious influence over the government felt draconian, and other than the otherworldly mountain view, I found myself in this foreign land where I knew nobody and carried the burdens of a man much older with the back of a child.

I hated it here. I spent my first months here dreaming of the day I would return to the Midwest, or spread my wings and set roots on the east coast where I made so many memories as a kid and knew more people than anywhere else.

But it’s impossible to stay that bitter and angry forever. I joined a chorus in the city and strained myself to make an effort to be sociable, and was rewarded in turn with a new circle of friends, Elie chief among them. I travelled around the state to see topographical features I had only ever seen in textbooks prior to living out here. I made runs to Colorado to surreptitiously acquire the goods Colorado is known for (if you know, you know).

I signed my name on my first ever lease. I started working out and, every once in a while, not eating like a garbage disposal. These sorts of things stack up on you, and while the day to day improvements might not be noticeable, one day you look in the mirror and you see a face and soul entirely unrecognizable from the one you saw six months ago.

Yes, I even found the time to take a stab at dating, with all of the supreme highs of walking on an empty beach on the Great Salt Lake hand in hand and feeling a peace I had never felt in my life, and the subsequent rock in the stomach feeling when things came to an end. It is a supreme luxury to have the time for these sorts of things, given where I came from.

From that you experience the day by day triumphs of surviving heartbreak, and healing from it, and experiencing the nightlife of a major American city for the first time in your life.

And so that’s how I ended up at a Venezuelan pub food joint, at 3am, sitting next to a beautiful mural of the country, listening to my good friend talk about the country he called home until geopolitical unrest forced him and his family to flee when he was just four years old. A strange age to remember your homeland, he told me. Just old enough to have memories of it, but not enough to identify with it.

He wove yarns, with a glint in his eye, about the beauty of Angel Falls and Caracas in the west, and the world of baseball (I asked about this) in the east, and the unmarred-by-Western-industrial-development jungles of the south where the indigenous population lived.

He lamented, glint turned into tears, that he would never get to see his grandmother again, who remained in Venezuela, and asked to nobody in particular how to square the circle of grieving somebody that was still alive.

Tears turned to laughter as he explained the empanada I was currently demolishing, and the Venezuelan soda I was sipping on that he had been enjoying since before I was born, and that Venezuelans took great pride in their Miss World/America pageant winners (the likes of which were all hanging in the rafters of the establishment).

We hailed a Lyft back to his apartment around 4 in the morning, and standing on the street corner, no more than ten feet away from several kebab vendors, with drunk club goers stumbling arm in arm with one another, I realized I had never seen this many people in one place before back home — and this was just a random street corner on a Friday night, in a city not exactly known for being exciting.

I recognized, with great excitement, how much left there was for me to know about being a human being, and how many stories were left to hear and to write myself.

This city and this state has been where I have known freedom for the first time in my life. It took a while, but finally, an authentic empanada and the eerily relatable tale of a good friend ripped away from home, and the nostalgia he felt, opened my eyes to a view of the world I hadn’t been able to have. There are so many parties to throw, laughs to be had, and tears left to shed. And there can be joy found anywhere you find yourself.

Is Utah *home*? Unsure. But, after a year and a half, I’m not fighting that fact anymore, and after the life I’ve lived, there might not be much difference between the two.

[carriesthewind]

Hi! I read the further comments and posts you made regarding the library poll and incoming results. One specific thing was interesting to me personally: when you brought up that the argument "it's not your property" is in some way the same argument used by cops harassing homeless people in parks etc. That never occurred to me, cuz public property (object) and public property (place) are so very different to me, I can't "take away" a park like I could a book. (1)

(2) I wonder how much of my perspective is formed by growing up and living in a country with a relatively good social security net (ofc, slow bureaucracy exist and can have very negative consequences) where (police) violence against homeless people is at least nominally lower - and how much is just the ignorance of always being treated like (lower) middle class

Thanks for the question!

To first address the "takings" question: you raise an interesting distinction. I think how important that distinction comes down in part to what we mean by "take away." So for example, while a lot of the librarians in the library marginalia poll are (correctly and informatively) talking about how writing in books damages them to the point where they need to be removed/thrown away, a lot of writing doesn't damage the book (immediately) to the point of removal, but still interferes with a reader's enjoyment. That's (part of) why librarians erase pencil markings, even though erasing itself can damage the book - the writing in the books "takes away" from the experience of other readers. Meanwhile, for something like a park, many people would argue that homeless people living in a park "take away" from other people's experience of the park; and if enough homeless people live there, it can prevent other people from being able to access (or safely and comfortably access) the park.

If you want to see examples of people talking this way, here's an article from Fox News in the aftermath of a police raid on a large homeless encampment in a Los Angeles park. Quoting from the article: "'It looks like the way it should be. It's a family park. And I think kids are feeling like they can come to a place and not worry that they might find needles in the playground,' resident Joey larva said." You can see from the way the "resident" (a.k.a local property owner) talks about the park, that he didn't feel kids could use it when the camp was there; that it was "taken" from them. (If you really want to be horrified at humanity, you can scroll down and read the comments. I really really don't recommend doing so, however.)

(Because I don't feel comfortable letting that article be the only word on the subject: here's an article from the Guardian about the aftermath of the raid - and the camp itself - focused on the victims of the raid.)

Which leads to the second part of your question - I'm not sure how much it has to do with your experiences, as opposed to mine. As someone who does public interest law in the U.S., part of the reason I'm so sensitive to these kinds of arguments is because I have seen how the state (and corporations) use the idea of property, ownership, and rules/the law to as hammers to hurt vulnerable people. And how resistant those systems in the U.S. are to considering any actual harms in applying those laws and rules. (One of my first criminal defense cases, I tried to ask the prosecutor what his rational was for demanding the punishment he wanted in his plea offer - what goal did it serve? And I went on to detail the specifics of my client's particular case and my great, law-school-approved arguments for why his offer was inappropriate (I can't give details, but please be assured - there was no rational justification for even charging this person criminally). His response was to yell that this was what he always offered for this offense, my client had broken the law (which, technically, they had), take it or leave it.)

And one of the common experiences of doing public interest law work in the united states is that some of the hardest clients to represent are those who have never been on the sharp end of the justice system before (especially former middle, and even upper-lower, class). Because people have an entirely sensible expectation that the justice system will abide by certain standards of rationality and reasonableness. And then it just...doesn't. Because when it says that the only thing that matters is, "it doesn't belong to you;" it really really means it - regardless of the context, of the harm that you've actually done, or the harm that the hammer of the system is about to do to you.

(Apologies for the depressing answer.)

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

In April 2016, Patton Oswalt's wife, Michelle McNamara passed away suddenly in her sleep. She was 46, and they had been married for 11 years.

Since then, Oswalt's comedy career has been on pause while he grieves, takes care of their daughter, and, remarkably, helps finish his wife's last book (I’ll Be Gone in the Dark), which was left nearly complete at the time of her death.

"Thanks for making depression look like the buzzing little bully it always was. Depression is the tallest kid in the 4th grade, dinging rubber bands off the back of your head and feeling safe on the playground, knowing that no teacher is coming to help you.

But grief? Grief is Jason Statham holding that 4th grade bully's head in a toilet and then fu**ing the teacher you've got a crush on in front of the class. Grief makes depression cower behind you and apologize for being such a di**.

If you spend 102 days completely focused on ONE thing you can achieve miracles. Make a film, write a novel, get MMA ripped, kick heroin, learn a language, travel around the world. Fall in love with someone. Get 'em to love you back.

But 102 days at the mercy of grief and loss feels like 102 years and you have sh** to show for it. You will not be physically healthier. You will not feel "wiser." You will not have 'closure.' You will not have 'perspective' or 'resilience' or 'a new sense of self.' You WILL have solid knowledge of fear, exhaustion and a new appreciation for the randomness and horror of the universe. And you'll also realize that 102 days is nothing but a warm-up for things to come."

"...You will have been shown new levels of humanity and grace and intelligence by your family and friends. They will show up for you, physically and emotionally, in ways which make you take careful note, and say to yourself, 'Make sure to try to do that for someone else someday.' Complete strangers will send you genuinely touching messages on Facebook and Twitter, or will somehow figure out your address to send you letters which you'll keep and re-read 'cause you can't believe how helpful they are. And, if you're a parent? You'll wish you were your kid's age, because the way they embrace despair and joy are at a purer level that you're going to have to reconnect with, to reach backwards through years of calcified cynicism and ironic detachment."

"… Michelle McNamara got yanked off the planet and out of life 102 days ago. She left behind an amazing unfinished book, about a horrific series of murders that everyone — including the retired homicide detectives she worked with — was sure she'd solve. The Golden State Killer. She gave him that name, in an article for Los Angeles Magazine. She was going to figure out the real name behind it.

She left Alice, her 7-year-old daughter. But not before putting the best parts of her into Alice, like beautiful music burned onto a CD and sent out into the void on a spaceship.And she left me. 102 days into this.I was face-down and frozen for weeks. It's 102 days later and I can confidently say I have reached a point where I'm crawling. Which, objectively, is an improvement.

Maybe 102 days later I'll be walking."

In April 2016, Patton Oswalt's wife, Michelle McNamara passed away suddenly in her sleep. She was 46, and they had been married for 11 years.

Since then, Oswalt's comedy career has been on pause while he grieves, takes care of their daughter, and, remarkably, helps finish his wife's last book, which was left nearly complete at the time of her death.

www.upworthy.com

Joseph DeAngelo was captured two years after her death.

[urbanthreads]

Rhythmic Echoes: The Evolution of Rap Music

Photo by Antoine J. on Unsplash

Introduction

Rap music has captivated audiences worldwide with its vivid wordplay, powerful rhythms, and messages. From the gritty streets of the Bronx to the star-studded Los Angeles studios, rap has evolved into a diverse and influential genre. Let’s take a walk down the memory lane and explore how rap music has evolved over the years.

The Roots: 1970s - Early 1980s

Rap music originated in the African-American communities of New York City in the 1970s. At block parties, DJs would play funk and soul records and isolate the percussion breaks to create a continuous beat. This technique, called “breaking”, inspired MCs (Master of Ceremonies) to speak over the beats, narrating stories or rhyming words. Pioneers like DJ Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa, and Grandmaster Flash are often credited with laying the foundation for rap music.

Golden Age: Mid 1980s - Early 1990s

The mid-1980s ushered in what many consider the “Golden Age” of rap. Rap music became more complex and sophisticated as artists like Run DMC, Public Enemy, and N.W.A addressed social and political issues, shedding light on racial tensions and police brutality. The storytelling aspect became prominent with the likes of Slick Rick and Big Daddy Kane. The East Coast – West Coast rivalry also emerged, setting a competitive atmosphere that fueled creativity.

Diversification: Mid 1990s - Early 2000s

The 1990s saw rap music splintering into various sub-genres. The East Coast, led by artists like Nas, Jay-Z, and The Notorious B.I.G., focused on lyrical sophistication and jazz-infused beats. Meanwhile, the West Coast, with artists like Tupac Shakur, Snoop Dogg, and Dr. Dre, favored funk samples and catchy hooks. The Southern rap scene also rose to prominence with Outkast and Goodie Mob pioneering the ‘Dirty South’ sound.

Commercial Boom: Mid 2000s - Early 2010s

Rap became a commercial juggernaut in the 2000s. Mainstream artists like 50 Cent, Eminem, and Kanye West achieved massive commercial success. Production value skyrocketed and collaborations with pop artists became commonplace. The genre diversified further, with the rise of alternative hip-hop acts like Kid Cudi and Lupe Fiasco.

Internet Era: Mid 2010s - Present

The Internet revolutionized the music industry, and rap was no exception. Platforms like SoundCloud and social media allowed independent artists to release music without a record label. This led to the rise of artists like Chance the Rapper and Tyler, The Creator, who built their careers online. Trap music, characterized by its use of 808 drums and hi-hats, also became a dominant sub-genre, with artists like Migos and Travis Scott at the forefront.

Contemporary Evolution: 2020s

As we move into the 2020s, rap music continues to evolve. The genre is becoming increasingly international with grime in the UK, drill in Australia, and various other styles around the globe. Additionally, the lines between genres are blurring, with artists like Lil Nas X and Post Malone blending rap with country and rock.

Conclusion

Rap music’s journey from the streets of New York to a global phenomenon is a testament to its adaptability and the raw power of rhythm and wordplay. As rap continues to evolve, it remains a voice for marginalized communities, a playground for experimentation, and an ever-changing reflection of society. Whether through poetic storytelling or pulsating trap beats, rap music is, and will continue

[kidsworldfun]

Indoor Kids Playground: Why Choose The One For A Birthday Celebration?

These days, there are lots of options for parents to celebrate their kid’s birthdays. Whether you want to invite a small group of kids or larger ones, there are plenty of activities for kids Thousand Oaks. 

If you choose an indoor kids playground, then it would be a unique way to celebrate your kid’s birthday, as an indoor playground is designed to serve the purposes such as corporate parties, fun activities, kid’s birthday celebrations, and more. Thus, it will turn out to be a great option. 

 There are lots of reasons why you should choose an indoor playground. Considering these options will make your decision firm to organize your kid’s birthday party at an indoor play center. Games and activities such as ballocity, laser tag, and other online games will be the center of attraction for the kids. 

 In addition, if you choose an indoor play center, you don’t have to take care of or be concerned about any management and planning, as the staff there is trained to tackle all those things without any hassle. All you have to do is just book the venue, and you are ready to celebrate your kid’s birthday in a special and unique way. 

 Indoor kids playground such as Kids World are also offering great discounts this Christmas and New Year. You can avail of their offer as it is one of the best indoor playgrounds. Kids activities Los Angeles at Kids World has also become quite famous in the last several years as it is a different and amazing way to celebrate a birthday party. 

 At Kids World, you can get various options such as 2-3 hours of playtime, a private play area for 90 minutes, set-up and clean-up, birthday party supplies, one return pass for the birthday child, and much more.

[truecrimesunzu]

The Murder of Gabriel Fernandez

This is an old case summary written February 2020

Please exercise caution when reading this, as there are accounts of very brutal abuse amounting to torture and a child victim. Click images at your own discretion.

---

On May 22, 2013 Pearl Fernandez called 911. Her 8-year-old son Gabriel fell and hit his head on a dresser, and now he wasn't breathing. Paramedics arrived at her Palmdale, California apartment to find Gabriel unconscious. They rushed him to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, where he was on life support for two days. It was very clear that this was no accidental fall. First responders noted that every single inch of his body had signs of abuse.

Gabriel suffered a fractured skull, broken ribs, a broken nose, and many missing teeth. He had BB pellets embedded in his body - "in his neck, face, lung, legs, buttocks, foot, chest and groin." There were cigarette burns on his neck, feet, and genitals and ligature marks on both ankles. Skin was missing from his neck. He had internal injuries, including a lacerated liver. Cat feces were forced in his mouth and down his throat. Before calling 911, Pearl and her boyfriend, Isuaro Aguirre cleaned up their apartment. They hid Gabriel’s bloody clothes and moved a picture to cover one of the biggest dents in their apartment’s walls. Pearl ordered her 11-year-old daughter to help them clean blood off the floor.

Scalp, Face, Neck, Ears and Shoulder Injuries Documented at Trial (diagam) | Autopsy Injury Diagram (drawing)

Due to over 60 complaints filed against Pearl Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre between 2003 and 2012, there were 8 investigations of them by the LA County Child Protective Services and the Department of Children and Family Services. The department deemed all reports unsubstantiated. Despite numerous contacts with the family and calls from Gabriel’s first grade teacher, DCFS determined all was well.

Two years before Gabriel was born, Pearl was investigated after she and Gabriel’s older brother were in a car accident where her son suffered a head injury because he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. In 2004, a relative filed a complaint with CPS claiming that Pearl was beating that son. This was deemed unfounded. In 2007 a complaint against Pearl claimed she didn’t feed one of her daughters and threatened to break her jaw if she cried. She was convicted of using a weapon in a reckless manner and sentenced to two weeks in a Texas jail. Pearl abandoned her youngest child, Destiny, and lost custody of a son older than Gabriel, named Arnold Jr.

Shortly after Gabriel’s birth in 2005, he went to live with his maternal grandmother, because Pearl “did not want Gabriel and had no love for” him. Suddenly, Pearl wanted custody back in October 2012. She claimed to social workers that she had concerns about how he was being treated but family members say she wanted Gabriel’s welfare benefits. Gabriel’s grandmother objected, telling deputies that Pearl neglected and abused her children. Still, Pearl received custody of Gabriel. His father, Arnold Contreras, was in and out of jail but thought Gabriel’s maternal grandparents would be watching over him.

Gabriel was either tardy or absent a lot. When he was in school, he would kick other students. On the rare occasion he went outside during recess, he stood alone on the playground and kicked a wall. During Red Ribbon Week, when teachers talk to children about staying drug-free, Gabriel mimicked snorting cocaine and knew it was a drug. Gabriel asked his teacher, Jennifer Garcia, if it was normal for moms to hit their kids. She said yes because some parents spank their children, but asked him again about it at recess. He then asked if it was normal for moms to hit kids with a belt buckle and make you bleed. During a parent-teacher meeting, Pearl said without prompting, “I don’t hit my kids.” Garcia told Pearl that Gabriel was smart and a good writer, but she didn’t think Pearl believed her. Gabriel would cry at the end of the day because he didn’t want to go home.

Jennifer Garcia began calling social workers in 2012. She reported that Gabriel’s face and hands had bruises from strikes with a belt buckle. He came to school with scratches, a split lip, and a swollen bruised face. Pearl admitted to hitting him with the belt. Neither caseworker Kevin Bom nor case manager Stefanie Rodriguez felt the bruising was grounds for a doctor’s visit or Gabriel’s removal from the home. They did ask Pearl and Isauro to take a drug test after the Red Ribbon Week incident, but the results were negative.

On November 26th, 2012 Gabriel showed up to class late. His classmates laughed and pointed when they saw him. His hair cut was awful and sloppy, and chunks of his scalp had scabbed over. Garcia told Gabriel to tell other kids to mind their own business when they asked him what had happened. Garcia called the principal to have him look at Gabriel’s head. He told her that they don’t investigate, they report. Garcia called Gabriel’s caseworker, Rodriguez, on two different numbers and left messages. A few days later, Gabriel came to school with a split lip from Pearl punching him in the mouth. Garcia called Rodriguez again, pressing her about what she was doing to help Gabriel. Due to confidentiality rules, Rodriguez could say nothing.

Towards the end of January, when Gabriel came to class, there was no more laughing. The other children were silent. His eyes were swollen, his face dotted with bruises. When Garcia first questioned Gabriel about his injuries, he lied to her and told her he fell. He finally admitted that Pearl shot him in the face with a BB gun. He lied because whenever a social worker would visit his punishments would increase.

On January 29, 2013 Rodriguez made a final visit to Fernandez’s home. Gabriel told her that the bruises on his face were because he had fallen while playing tag. Rodriguez recommended that Gabriel and Pearl take part in Voluntary Family Maintenance, which allows children to remain in the home while the family works to resolve their issues. The department was using it on parents who weren’t eligible instead of only low risk cases as intended.

On February 27th, 2013 therapist Carmen Le Norgant discussed with Pearl suicide notes Gabriel had written. One, addressed to his mother, said, “I love you so much that I will die.” Others stated he wanted to kill himself. He told Le Norgant that he was serious. Le Norgant informed social worker Patricia Clement and Palmdale’s LAC DCFS supervisor Greg Merritt. They did nothing. Le Norgant also called 911, but the officer who visited the home left without even talking to Gabriel. On March 26th, 2013 therapist intern Barbara Dixon filed a report that Gabriel claimed a relative forced him to perform oral sex on them. When social workers interviewed him about that allegation, Pearl was present, and Gabriel took back each of his stories.

According to the next worker assigned to Gabriel’s case, Patricia Clement claimed that new abuse allegations were already being dealt with and that she was going to close the case because there were no concerns at the moment. Despite their risk level being “very high,” Merritt manually changed the level to “moderate” and closed the case.

On April 26th, 2013 a security guard at the local welfare office, Arturo Martinez, noticed that Gabriel needed urgent help. Pearl was yelling at Gabriel, who had cigarette burns on his head and neck and marks on his wrists from being tied up. Martinez told Pearl to quiet down. Gabriel has a black eye, there were lumps on the back of his head, and his skin was almost yellow. Pearl rushed out of the office with her children, blocking Martinez’ view of Gabriel as she did. Martinez asked Maricela Corona, the clerk Pearl had spoken to, if she planned to report child abuse. Corona was only filling in that day and, though reluctant, talked to a supervisor who told her not to get involved. Martinez called his own supervisor who explained that was not in his job description. Corona then gave Martinez the family’s name and contact information, telling Martinez to “save this kid.” He called DCFS twice, but could not navigate the automated system. He called 911, but his situation was not an emergency. He called the non-emergency line to report. Martinez later learned that a deputy had visited the home and found nothing wrong.

Around this time, Gabriel came to class looking even worse than he ever had before. A red eye; his face, neck, and ear marked and bruised; his forehead skin was peeling. Garcia asked Gabriel if he wanted to take part in that day’s assignment or not, which was making a Mother’s Day card. He wanted to, and worked very hard on it. The card, shaped like a house, said “Open the door to see who loves you” with his picture glued inside. Garcia called Rodriguez and left yet another message. Rodriguez made no entry of this call.

Gabriel at School Just Before Mother's Day

One week before his death, Gabriel’s school, Summerwind Elementary, asked a sheriff’s deputy to investigate, but he received the wrong address. When he reached Pearl on the phone she told him that Gabriel had moved to Texas with his grandmother. Whether he tried or even had time to follow up on this claim is unknown. On May 22nd, 2013 paramedics rushed Gabriel to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles but doctors pronounced him braindead the same day. He was on life support until May 24th, 2013. Due to the amount of injuries to his body, the autopsy took two days.

In June 2018, after five hours of deliberation, jurors found Pearl Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre guilty of murder and torture. Fernandez pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty and received a sentence of life in prison without parole. Aguirre received the death sentence. Judge Lomeli denied an automatic motion to reduce the jury’s recommendation of a death sentence for Aguirre to life in prison without the possibility of parole, citing the “repeated beating, binding, burning and starving” of Gabriel.

During their trials, it came to light that Isuaro Aguirre forced Gabriel to eat spoiled food and cat feces as well as his own vomit, and locked him in a cabinet with a sock in his mouth and handcuffs around his ankles to sleep. The family called this cabinet “the cubby.” Deputy District Attorney Jonathan Hatami claimed that Aguirre hated Gabriel because he thought he may be gay. Aguirre would call him gay, punish him if he played with dolls, and even made Gabriel wear girls’ clothing to school. Shortly before his death, Gabriel spent most of his time at home in “the cubby” with no access to food or water and no bathroom breaks. His older brother Ezequiel would try to sneak bananas through the padlocked door. If he didn’t beat Gabriel, Pearl and Isauro would threaten him, so he would whisper to Gabriel to fall quickly so he didn’t have to hit him as much. Isuaro and Pearl even pepper sprayed Gabriel the night before he died.

After the death of Gabriel Fernandez, LAC DCFS terminated four social workers for their failure to help him. The four also had criminal charges filed against them. In 2016, Stefanie Rodriguez and Patricia Clement, two former LA County social workers, as well as two supervisors, Kevin Bom and Gregory Merritt, were charged with one felony count each of child abuse and falsifying public records. They each faced up to ten years in prison if found guilty. Judge Mary Lou Villar stated that each defendant should have noticed the danger Gabriel was in and requested he be removed from the home, or at the very least ordered a medical examination. Villar also stated that the defendants should have documented Gabriel Fernandez’s injuries and that their actions were “incompatible with the proper regard for human life.”

Counselor Barbara Dixon testified that while working at Hathaway-Sycamores Child and Family Services, which handled Gabriel’s case, she did not report suspected abuse despite being legally required to report these suspicions. Dixon’s boss, Michael Bailey, allegedly told her not to report the abuse and later, supervisors told her not to cooperate with police regarding his death. DCFS never learned about these injuries while Gabriel was alive. Dixon claimed she did report an allegation of sexual abuse by someone outside the home. This investigation was ongoing when Gabriel died. Dixon and Hathaway-Sycamores also handled the very similar case in 2018 when 10-year-old Anthony Avalos died after his mother and her boyfriend abused him.

Since Gabriel’s death and the subsequent review, DCFS has hired more than 1,000 caseworkers, provided staff with smartphones, started new methods of training, and changed the standards for the Voluntary Family Maintenance program. Arturo Martinez, the security guard, asked to transfer to another office because he could not continue to work with the same people who had refused to help Gabriel. In that time, “at least 143 children in Los Angeles County have died from abuse or neglect after having some prior history with DCFS.”

In January 2020 California 2nd District Court of Appeals threw out the charges against the four former social workers. The appellate opinion noted that although they may have failed in their duties as social workers there was no probable cause for a criminal case. The District Attorney may appeal this decision.

On February 26th 2020, Netflix released a documentary called The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez. Director Brian Knappenberger documents the investigation into the months of abuse preceding his murder as well as the trial against his mother and her boyfriend. The documentary looks into the failures of the Los Angeles County DCFS system.

To this day, Jennifer Garcia reserves the #28 in her classroom. It will always be Gabriel's number.

SOURCES: The Atlantic | LA Times 1 | LA times 2 | LA Times 3 | LA Daily News | Oprah Magazine | NBC LA | ABC | Bom et al. vs. LA County

[extreme-fix-water-damage]

STONEY POINT PARK

The City of Los Angeles and the State of California have preserved a large amount of natural land in the San Fernando Valley, including Stoney Point, where the Gabrielino Indians lived for many centuries. The Indians used rock formations and cliffs to construct their settlements, and stone-art (petroglyphs or pictographs) is still visible today throughout the park’s trails.

When Spanish explorers first came to the region, they discovered that the area was home to the Tongva-Fernandeno, Chumash-Venturano and Tataviam-Fernandeno Indian tribes. These Native American peoples were trading partners with the European settlers and had their own villages and sacred sites.

After the Spaniards arrived, they created Mission San Fernando, and a road, the Old Mission Trail, to connect this area with Mission San Buenaventura and other missions up and down the California coast. This road, called Rinaldi Street in today’s Chatsworth, crossed the railroad tracks at Stoney Point.

This historic path remains the most prominent route for visitors to travel through the Simi Hills, with a number of parks and trails in the vicinity. The Santa Susana Pass State Historic Park and the Chatsworth Nature Preserve, both located here, provide scenic views of the rocky landscape and wildlife that inhabit it.

Besides being an excellent place to enjoy the outdoors, Chatsworth has several other amenities that make it a popular destination for people in the Los Angeles area. It is a quiet, suburban community that offers strong schools, a healthy economy and a wide variety of outdoor activities to residents of all ages.

The locals are friendly and have a great sense of community. There is plenty of shopping, dining, and entertainment options that are accessible to all.

There are several hiking trails in the area, including Santa Susana Pass State Historic Park and the Old Stagecoach Trail. These trails offer beautiful views of the surrounding cliffs and canyons, as well as historical sites from the 19th century.

In addition, there are a few rock climbing and bouldering areas where you can practice your skills and climb on top-ropes. It is important to respect local climbing ethics when going out there, and do not add bolts or use sport climbing equipment to the existing routes.

For those who enjoy climbing, it is a great way to get out and explore the wilderness in Los Angeles. This is a popular spot for locals and tourists alike to come and take advantage of the breathtaking views, as well as the fun opportunities to climb up and down the mountain.

It is also a good spot to hike with kids, as it’s not too difficult and the terrain is fairly flat. There are several picnic areas in the park where you can sit and watch the scenery go by, as well as a playground for the little ones.

The community is also known for its many events and festivals, including the annual Harvest Festival. Whether you want to enjoy the scenery, take in a movie or have dinner with friends, there is something for everyone to do in this beautiful town.

[thesiouxzy]

From Weird Hollywood:

Each year, come this season, a certain Slim Aarons photo makes the rounds on Instagram. It features a bathing beauty floating in a pool, bobbing alongside metallic holiday ornaments. Behind her, three children play with the floating, shining orbs. And because it’s not Slim Aarons unless there’s an element of lavish frivolity, a Christmas tree emerges from the water, festooned with swags of aluminum-foil-colored tinsel and metallic bows. The tree is inexplicably anchored to the bottom of the pool, and at the highest point of the tree is a Christmas star, glinting in the California sun. Off in the distance is the Hollywood sign. It’s titled “Christmas Swim.

“The other day I was on Instagram and saw a comment saying, ‘That’s not Katy Perry. That’s Rita Aarons!’” says Mary Aarons, daughter of Rita (the subject of “Christmas Swim”) and Slim. “I shared the mix-up with my mother. She’s 90 years old and she’s with it, but she has zero social media knowledge and understanding. She always asks where am I seeing all this and who are these people who know about it. And I tell her, ‘You are sort of like an Instagram star.’”

Instagram is a funny place, a platform for anonymous individuals to launch themselves into the public eye and for the already famous to maintain their renown. On the gram, you get what you give, and so it’s peculiar for the app to have had such an impact on a nonuser. Slim wasn’t alive to see the invention of Instagram, and he doesn’t have an estate managing an official account, and yet Instagram has played a significant role in his legacy. Through Instagram, Slim’s photos are distributed, circulated, and double-tapped by users all over the world.

On assignment for Life, Town & Country, or Holiday Magazine—from the 1950s and well into the 1970s—Slim would ping-pong across the globe to cities only fashionable at a certain time of the year: Palm Springs, Verbier, Marbella. Those holiday playgrounds where the old-monied set clinked Champagne glasses with oligarchs of modern industry and pretty young things with Hollywood stars in their eyes. Slim photographed swank après-ski scenes in Squaw Valley and the photogenic patrons at Il Pellicano, but more than that, he was granted rarified access into private spaces of those whose fame was their fortune or for whom entitlement was a birthright—C.Z. Guest, Babe Paley, Princess Caroline of Monaco, Countess Dolores von Furstenberg.

In the winter of 1954, the attractive person doing the attractive thing in the attractive place was Lorita (or Rita), his new wife, formerly an assistant at Life, swimming beneath the Hollywood sign and a Christmas tree. The place was Los Angeles, California.

Few details are known about the festive photo, one of Slim’s most iconic, but Mary offers some context: “It was a hired house and hired kids, and my mom’s big recollections were that it was a really cold, really dirty pool and that because they wanted everything to line up just right (and obviously it was her husband taking the picture), he made her stay in there a really long time,” says Mary. “She was freezing and mad. It looks idyllic now, but to get it just right in a cold and dirty pool took a while.”

Mary estimates the photo session might have taken an hour or an hour and a half. “He didn’t use lights, and I would guess—I’m not great at perspectives but I’m looking at it now because I put it out every Christmas—he’s standing on the diving board or a ladder at the other end of the pool.”

“I’m not that old,” Mary jokingly asserts when asked about people thinking she was one of the kids in the picture. “I came around a couple of years later.” Who they are remains a mystery, as does the location of the house. Mary, who lovingly keeps up with all the latest discoveries relating to her father, tells me there’s a big debate on the exact address of the house. Though Los Angeles was a city Slim and his wife spent a bit of time in, the house was not one they ever occupied—simply a set that offered a marvelous view of the Hollywood sign. “A lot of people think it’s Baldwin Hills,” says Mary. “Somewhere, somebody does know where that house is. It doesn’t look like the kind of house that would still be there now. It’s probably been razed. But it works. It was a beautiful picture.”