Hollywood Homeless Interviews

By Alyssa Ramos

I was having an exceptionally enlightening day last Wednesday…or maybe Tuesday…I’m not really sure because all days seem to just run together in Hollywood…but several series of random events led to me walking down Hollywood Blvd. at 2am in six inch Louboutins, interviewing homeless people.

It all started when I was sitting in my apartment waiting to go to dinner, having a typical tipsy banter session with my roommate Dave (and probably thoroughly scaring his friend who was visiting from New Jersey). For some reason I noted a picture I saw on Facebook of Winnie The Pooh and exclaimed how I always hated him because his voice creeps me out and his name is poo. Somehow that conversation led into a conversation about how incredibly irritating the Kardashians are and how they should focus on the Jenners more because they’re hotter. Dave was quick to defend the fact that Brody can’t because he was “already on Laguna Beach, or The Hills, or whatever”. Whatever Dave.

By the way, I know this all may not seem as amusing as it was to me when I thought I was drunk and psychic but I’m going to say it anyway. So low and behold, I go to the bathroom at Wa Sushi on La Cienaga and Holloway, and what should be hanging on the bathroom walls but none other than two creepy Winnie the Pooh sketches! I rushed out to tell my friend about my conversation with Dave and how I’m psychic, when who should walk in the door of this tiny whole in the wall sushi place? Yup. Brody Jenner. I’m totally psychic.

Anyway as we were leaving I noticed what seemed like someone selling art or books or something in the plaza where the sushi place was, and being a fan of any gypsy item I can get my hands on, insisted on investigating. It wasn’t art, it was a bunch of stolen stuff that a homeless guy named, “Boom-Shaka-Laka” was trying to sell. But it gave me a new idea!

Amidst the random items including old school headphones, and a purple vibrator, I found a mini sketchpad that Boom Shaka Laka was very stern on selling for $1 (although it probably sells for $10), so I gave him $5, but in exchange asked him to write something in it. What he wrote made 0 sense, along with whatever he was ranting about, but it gave me an idea to do something I’ve always wanted to do but usually can’t convince anyone to do with me…interview homeless people.

I didn’t want to do it as a joke, or to be mean; I legitimately believe that it’s interesting to hear people’s stories who are down on their luck, and wanted to share it with people who don’t understand that not all homeless people are crazy, or drug addicts, some are simply down on their luck or not as fortunate as others.

We decided we should get one more drinks/adventures in before walking down Hollywood Blvd. at night, so headed to a new “speakeasy” that just opened in Hollywood called No Vacancy. This place is f-ing awesome. It looks like you’re going into an old, run down hotel, with a creepy red flashing light out front that says “No Vacancy”. You’re then ushered inside where you enter a bedroom that looks like a boudoir, complete with a half naked chick in lingerie sitting suggestively on a bed. She says something or the other about rules then all of a sudden the entire freaking bed starts moving sideways and reveals a hidden staircase! Thank god I had a lot of wine before that because I would have been running out the front door, crying by then.

We went down the steps and into the main area which looked like a very old fashioned lobby of a haunted hotel. There was a beautiful back patio area with tea lights strung from the tops of trees and an antique bar illuminated underneath. I tried to order something that sounded speakeasy-ish from the bar…no idea what it was, but it was disgusting, so I quickly drank it anyway and insisted on heading out on our journey. The sketchy exit through an alley that led through Five O’ Four (a hipster version of Fat Tuesday’s) took us out to Hollywood Blvd. where we began our search for homeless people.

I walked up to the first person and asked him if he would write something in my journal. Without hesitation he immediately wrote in perfect cursive, “Dreams Still Come True in Hollywood.” I was so touched that I offered him the only other singles I had left, smacked my friend excitedly instructing them to go get more singles, and marched off to find my next interview.

The second guy was a saxophone player from New Orleans, dressed fresh to death in a pinstriped suit and fedora, who lectured me for about five minutes about what he was writing, “Pull your pants up is also a mindset irrelevant of age, gender, or ethnicity! Evolve America! Old industry is dead!!” I felt like a shunned child.

The next guy’s entry I can’t really tell if it’s cynical or influential, however I will still note that his handwriting is also in nice cursive. Neil wrote, “Always remember in life there is no problem so great you can’t run away from it.” So I’m assuming he ran away from something…and it didn’t end well.

Next was a guy named Steve who I met because I’m psychic, and knew he was from the same hometown area as me, West Palm Beach, where he used to run a dance studio before it went bankrupt. He came to LA to continue his dream of teaching dance while being aided by the VA Hospital, but when it lost funding for housing, he was left on the streets. He was very passionate about life in his conversation and in his entry, “To Alyssa, Believe in love. It will give everything you do meaning. Without love life is just about how you feel. Love ya & God bless you.” When I looked closely at the numbers he was writing under his entry, I realized it was his social security number, to which he told me that if we ever wanted to find him, we could ask the VA to look him up by his social.

My friend (who was not in any way, shape, or form, expecting a night like this) was intrigued by my idea, so I let them have a go at interviewing the next person. Mostly because I knew the next person was going to be the 1% of the people that were un-interview-able. The guy yelled at us, but that just goes to show why we need more homeless resource centers that will take in and asses the mental stability of homeless people like the one my ma helped start in Palm Beach. Yay mom.

We got side tracked briefly at Ripley’s Believe it or Not, and for not being tourists and for being actual Hollywood residents, I must say, it was fairly entertaining. For some reason I decided to interview inanimate objects like R2D2 and.some other comic type characters…and then spent about five minutes in a room that makes you feel like your tripping in an iPod commercial. I honestly don’t know how my friends are still friends with me.

After that, I got one more interview before we decided to stop at Buffalo Wild Wings to get some more fuel (drinks). But it was disgusting and the crowd was sketchy so we kept walking. Mind you, I had now walked the entire length of Hollywood Blvd. in six inch Loubs. My feet were fucked. I found a pizza place and insisted on getting a slice from the rude man who attempted talking shit about me in Spanish to the guy at the door, saying he was going to overcharge “these rich, white, tourists”, to which I kindly responded in Spanish, “I’m actually Cuban, and really love pizza, so shut your mouth”, and obtained the most disgusting slice of cardboard cafeteria pizza I have ever eaten.

Right outside the rude pizza place, I saw a young dude playing guitar next to a row of super mod paintings of the Beetles, and two other people who looked extremely suspect. I knelt down next to the guitar kid and asked him to write in my book, and asked why he was on the street. Before he could even respond, the thick wanna-be hipster chick (if it’s even possible to be wanna-be hipster) by the paintings with a tacky leopard dress on and way too much eyeliner, KICKED a bucket in his direction…inferring that he should get money from me? Oh hell no she didn’t.

The kid had just arrived a few days ago from somewhere in the Midwest and was chasing his dream of becoming a musician in Hollywood. I informed him that he was in the WRONG part of Hollywood and that I hated his obnoxious little big lady friend who he should avoid immediately. Somehow my friend got swindled into buying one of the paintings for $120, then a random guy came up and took a bite of my pizza while I was waiting for my journal entry from guitar kid, and when I went to go throw away the rest of the pizza, guitar kid graciously asked for it which I gave with him along with my Coke…which I instantly and awkwardly announced was Diet Coke, not like “coke”.

As we walked away, tacky leopard dress bitch says, “I like your shoes”, as if she’s going to eat me and steal my shoes, and to which I replied, “I don’t like you’re hustling. Have a good night!” I’m so sweet to gypsies sometimes.

To wrap up our lovely little adventure on Hollywood Blvd. I felt it was only appropriate to buy completely unnecessary touristy souvenirs from one of the many gift shops. They wouldn’t sell us the life size Beiber cut out so I settled for a Beiber fake ID, a Ghostbusters shirt, and various T-shirts for my dog, Oscar. As we walked to find a taxi I was appalled when a greasy, obnoxious random promoter outside some death trap of a lounge said, “Ey you know you want to come in sexy.” First of all, EW, second of all, when I coyly informed him that I was I was interviewing homeless people and asked if he wanted to write something, he said, “you gunna write it for me?” EW AGAIN. I kindly said, “That’s why people like you will go nowhere in life, good luck!”

As soon as I got home, I posted my interview project, and was very delighted when I finally woke up the next morning at 11am to read all of the positive feedback on my random project, minus that guy who has to be a rude sarcastic prick about everything on Facebook who commented, “I wonder how they check their email.” Dick. But anyway, I hope to continue my project to help speak the voices that no one cares to hear and hopefully provide an alternative view on the people who so many of us chose not to view at all. If ever you feel so inclined…I suggest chatting with a person sleeping on the streets, it may enhance your appreciation for life.