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Philosophically, I’m a strong advocate of the red eye. Practically, I’m losing faith. I was in Santa Monica for sunset last night. And I was in Queens for sunrise this morning. I love that that’s even possible. Growing up, my family took its fair share of road trips. No matter where we were — The…

Another year, another award show… another award show I missed almost entirely. I was fifteen feet from the Grammy red carpet (Heineken green, technically), but I didn’t see one celebrity. I was one hundred feet from the big show, but I didn’t see U2, Kanye, Kelly Clarkson — nobody. But I did work alongside some…

Downtown Los Angeles to Santa Monica in nine minutes, all for Kanye West. 8:13 – Six blocks from the hotel, my cell phone rings. It’s Angela in New York. “We need you to feed the Kanye video again. The audio was messed up.” This is a big deal. We’re premiering a snippet Kanye West’s video,…

A few hundred feet above Palm Canyon, the silence begins to sink in. I first noticed the stillness as I woke from a night of deep, dreamless sleep. There were songs in my head, and songs in the trees. Just outside my window, chirps and warbles of every aviary denomination sang praise to the early…

There’s something about the desert… There’s something about the desert that keeps me coming back. I first visited Palm Springs in 1997, just a few weeks after moving to New York City. I was dating a woman who worked in Joshua Tree National Park, and spent a few days camping there. (I ended up turning…

Three friends meet for dinner. They converge well after sundown at El Coyote, a kitschy Mexican joint smack in the middle of Hollywood, California. In the dusty haze of 1969, Sharon Tate ate her last meal there. They are three men, all in their early thirties, with less hair, perhaps, and more girth, for certain,…