There is the compulsion to say to the world, to those who could not come: I am here. We are here. And even if we still cannot understand, we try to remember.
In times of tragedy, should we block out social media noise or find a way to interpret it? As a journalist I am grateful for the diversity of opinions a mouse-click away. But I also worry that so many unfiltered voices will muddy the waters of truth and clarity, leaving us more upset and confused. …
Those of us tasked with covering death and tragedy are constantly flipping switches on our emotional reactors. It’s hard. And it’s hard to talk openly and honestly about how we do that. I thank Dallas Morning News reporter Naomi Martin for doing so here, in a piece titled: “I lost any sense of journalistic detachment when …
The new anthology LAtitudes aims to “rip up all the conventional thinking” about Los Angeles, bringing together 19 essays that explore topics such as L.A.’s pop music, ugly buildings, curbside tacos and street names.
For young journalists, teaching ourselves how to write (without relying on professors and editors) is an essential tool for survival in the news business.
The Southern California Library in South LA preserves historical records that could have been lost.
Ted Gibson’s framing shop has stubbornly stayed in business. It has kept its charm, too.
L.A. is home to countless wacky and whimsical and often nonsensical signs. One of the most unique has to be at Little Tokyo’s LA Chicken, a quick-serve joint specializing in Mexican-Japanese fusion, like the burrito with sushi rice, chicken, avocado, beans, cilantro, and potato salad.
What do Bill Clinton, Antonio Villaraigosa, Eric Garcetti, Placido Domingo and Stevie Wonder have in common? They were all on the same stage last Friday evening at City Hall for “Celebrate L.A.,” a so-called “block party” — free and open to all — honoring cultural heritage month and Villaraigosa’s final days as L.A. mayor. (See post for video of Bill Clinton’s comments and Stevie Wonder’s performance.)
The smells of garlic and tomato often assault my nose when I walk past Pitfire Pizza downtown on 2nd St. But one recent night, change was in the air. The wind carried cumin, coriander, garam masala: the scents of India. India’s cooking, at least. They summoned me to Pitfire’s new neighbor, a restaurant called Badmaash. …