The Luna Park Gazette

“Some people dream of success, while other people get up every morning and make it happen.” -- Wayne Huizenga In Latin, the phrase is “ veritas lux mea .” It is the motto of Seoul National University, among other things, and it can be translated as “the truth is my light,” or “the truth enlightens me.” Either way, these words will be my guide for 2020—and beyond. Yes, we’re coming up to New Year’s Day, that wacky time of year when I gear up to make all sorts of incredible changes in my life. And even though the ball won’t be coming down in Times Square for a few days yet, I’m already feeling the January jitters, an entirely self-inflicted and completely insane need to rebuild my entire existence from the DNA up. Nothing outrageous, of course. I just want to finish my novel, shoot a film, produce a play, move to Los Angeles, and fall madly in love all before Groundhog’s Day. Hmm…perhaps that’s a little too ambitious. Now I just want to say that 2019 was a darn good year.

I walked up to the ticket counter, took out my credit card, and pointed to the price list. “One adult and one senior, please” I said. The time was earlier this month and the place was the fabulous Norton Simon Museum in Los Angeles, where I was visiting my uncle and his wife. My uncle had stayed home on this day, so it was just my aunt and me. Now when I’m out with family, I tend to be the youngest in the crowd—unless my nieces are around, so I didn’t think there was anything unusual about my request until my aunt pointed to the price list. “It says ‘Seniors over 62,’” she said. Yeah, I know what it says. So? And then everything stopped—except time. I turned 62 in May, so that means…I am now eligible for the senior discount? In the immortal words of W.C. Fields, “Mother of Pearl!” Don’t get me wrong: I’ll gladly take any discount I can get, but I’d rather take three decades off my age than 3 bucks off a museum ticket. The sign was a little spooky, but the next day I

I came around a curve on the Occidental College campus on Saturday morning and made a new acquaintance. It was early, just before sunrise, and I was doing my morning walk from my uncle’s home in Los Angeles where I had been staying for the last week. This would probably be a good time to tell you that I had an absolute blast. I got to hang with my uncle and his wife, had lunch with one of my cousins who was in town for a day, hit such hot spots as Little Tokyo and the Farmers Market, and I finally had an in-person meeting with the fabulous Mark Brown , a writer I’ve known for the last 10 years or so solely through blogging and Facebook. And I also had plenty of time to lay on my keester and do absolutely nothing. Not bad, huh? Especially in light of all that emotional hullabaloo that I’m subjected myself to just a week ago. I’m always on the lookout for symbols and saying that can help calm the psychic typhoon that rages nonstop inside my noodle and I came across a humding

Yes, those Ukraine girls really knock me out, but I’m heading west and I’m leaving them behind. I’m taking off for Los Angeles tomorrow to visit my incredible Uncle Joe and his lovely wife for a week of R&R. As always, I’ve got the pre-vacation, oh-Jesus-I hate-flying jitters, but I’m hoping this passes with a little faith and shit-ton of Xanax. And, as usual, I’m running through my standard fears and worries. I’m regretting my decision, I’ve got too much to do, the bills are piling up, it’s too close to Christmas for a vacation, and other such assorted emotional khazerai . Of course, I’m missing some really cool-sounding events the week I’m gone, but that’s always the way with vacations. If you leave home for any extended period, you’re bound to miss something because you ain’t there, Einstein. Can I get “Duh!”? Then on Thursday I received an e-mail that helped me see life from a different angle. It was slugged “Date Ukrainian Lady” and it contained a photo of a l

At some point in my childhood, I caught myself in the unthinkable act of enjoying The Wizard of Oz . Today, of course, I’m proud to say that I love this magical film with all my heart and that the 1939 classic takes me over the rainbow every time I watch it. It was a much different story when I was a kid. Back then I absolutely hated this flick. I couldn’t stand Dorothy and her nitwit friends: the Tin Woodsman, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow. Every time the movie was broadcast--usually on a holiday--I would sit and sulk in front of our old Motorola while these losers followed the freaking Yellow Brick Road. My mother adored Judy Garland and I was stunned to learn a few years ago that The Wizard of Oz made its debut on August 15--my mother's birthday. The flying monkeys were pretty cool, but I still had to put up with all those stupid songs and the dancing midgets. I kept hoping that Godzilla will wander in from another movie and stomp them all to death. My bigge