Seeped into the brickwork

Film is everywhere in LA, both blaring transiently from billboards and seeped into the brickwork. Beetling bus journeys a couple of days ago took me past the Grand Olympic Auditorium, where the final fight scenes in the first Rocky film were shot, then past the Shrine, from which King Kong escaped before rampaging across a ’30s New York. Also past chutzpah-laden ads for the DVD release of Bambi II (seriously, Disney is so fucked up it’s not funny any more) and the stomach-cramp-inducing new Steve Martin remake of The Pink Panther.

And also through the intersection of Wilshire and Bundy which begins this train-wreck of a story in LA Weekly about screenwriter Eric Red. Taken to look him up on IMDb, I found myself oddly disconcerted by the fact that he and I share a birthday. No idea why that should bother me.

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