It’s a hole in the wall with the best homemade tortillas. Everything is perfect 

I grew up a few blocks from the "New Bev", the oldest revival house in Los Angeles. I was there every week in High School and watched everything from Deep End to Wings of Desire. It's no wonder I departed from mainstream cinema, early on. One night towards the end of High School, I went to see a film and wound up talking to this loud and wacky man who told me he had a film coming out called "Reservoir Dogs". Now he now is part owner. These days I go to the New Beverly for their Midnight movies and even had the chance to screen my own film there which was one of the greatest feelings in the world.

If you love karaoke like I do, there's a ton of spots to check out in LA, but none quite as charming (or David Lynch-y) as Melody Lounge. Be forewarned, this spot is intermittently open. You'll know they're ready for business if they plant a sandwich board outside offering cold sandwiches and cheap beer. Hopefully, you'll get a chance to meet the owner Willie, whose (possibly embellished) life stories rival Hemingway. As for the song selection, the campy MIDI versions and painfully less than accurate lyric translations can suddenly turn your favorite tunes into high-wire acts (i.e. "Leaving On A Jet Plane" magically transforms into "Libyan on A Jet Plane"). Hell, they even have a song called "Schindler's List" on the menu! Even if you don't sing, Willie or his wife will gleefully take the stage. Special tip: for a true Chinatown boner, request Willie sing Enrique Iglesias' "Bailamos."

Riverside Cliff is a place discovered last week. Its basically a huge mountain where people go dirt bike riding and hike, but I love going there to shoot. Its breathtaking when the sunset starts to hit.

Crackpot. Crazy. Dingbat. Lunatic. Nut. Screwball. Weirdo. Kook. Bizarre. Unusual. Oddball. *WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*