Near where we live, in a canyon above Hollywood, there’s a man who often works late at night in his small garage.
He’s a punk, kind of intimidating. I see him all the time, a tall white guy, extremely slender, always dressed in skintight leather: black pants, jacket, gloves, in the kind of high leather boots one buys to survive an apocalypse. Last year, he had a red mohawk. Currently, he’s shaved bald, except for a small black patch of hair. Anyway, it’s a look, and I’ve never seen dressed otherwise, even when it’s ninety degrees.
And still, it’s the contents of the garage, if I go past and the door’s open, that are the most interesting thing about him, suggesting he’s either a special effects designer or a serial killer, or both (this is Los Angeles): his garage is full of severed heads.
So, my in-laws visit the other week, and we take a walk after dinner. The garage door is open, and my mother-in-law, an artist, walking by, stops and says something like, “Oh, that’s really good.” Regarding one of the heads. She says, “No, that’s really good.” And then steps under the door to find out who made it.
Robert grew up in the Valley. Robert is sweet as can be. He has a slightly high-pitched, almost midwestern twang; hearing our interest, it quickly brims with enthusiasm. Robert is an amateur maker of severed heads and limbs. Before the pandemic, he worked as a janitor in a local brewery, also had previously been a professional musician, on guitar, bass, drums, clarinet, and accordion – accordion because when he was a kid, a salesman knocked on the door one day and charmed his mother into an installment plan. “I was like, geez, Mom, can I have a guitar already?” Favorite musical acts include Metallica, Guns ‘n Roses, also Billy Joel. These days, however, severed heads are his main passion, he taught himself how to make from YouTube videos, from materials available in any hardware store, all stemming from a lifelong interest in horror films, though he loves cinema generally, he really likes The Breakfast Club. “I mean, Ally Sheedy. If that’s not too obvious.”
He talks us through each of his pieces, warming up more with each one. Eyeballs fall out and roll on the ground. There’s an old cabinet television he wants to restore. After fifteen minutes, he shakes hands with each of us. “It was really nice to meet you guys. Stop by anytime.”
He adds shyly, chuckling, “I know some people look at me and think, gee whiz, that guy’s a nutjob. But really, I am pretty nice.”
Housekeeping: Next Saturday will be the monthly long essay for supporters, regarding novel writing on an island. Also, I talked here a couple weeks ago about going offroading for a story, and it’s now published in September’s GQ, a profile of Rivian, the much-hyped EV company, for which I spent a weekend messing around in their trucks.
Also previously mentioned, my latest book, Everything Now, is out in paperback, and I’ve got some extra copies. (We’re down to three!) If you want one, hit me up by replying to this newsletter or go through my website. For $20/book, I’ll sign and ship to whomever you like, assuming it’s a U.S. address.
As ever, thanks!
In tomorrow’s supplement for supporters: Resources for good T-shirts that don’t cost a ton, things worth 1,000 words instead of a picture, and a couple David Lynch-related items you may not have seen.
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Meditations in an Emergency is published Saturdays by novelist Rosecrans Baldwin, about things he finds beautiful, with a longer piece once a month for paying subscribers, written in the woods.
Also for paying subscribers, a Sunday supplement, three weeks a month, with three-plus ideas of things to love, no paid placements 💀
Rosecrans is the author most recently of Everything Now: Lessons From the City-State of Los Angeles, winner of the 2022 California Book Award, now available in paperback from Bookshop, Bezos Farms, or (preferably) your local store. Other books include The Last Kid Left and Paris, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down. His debut novel, You Lost Me There, was a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice.
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Rosecrans! I adore your writing and would love a signed copy of your book. I’ve never been to LA, and am going to consider your work my first entry point 😊 How can I reply to you directly for a copy if I’m reading this on the Substack app?