Martin Garcia, 43
Died July 30, 2010

10817 Venice Blvd. Martin Garcia, a 43-year-old Latino, died Friday, July 30, two days after he sustained blunt force trauma in the 10000 block of Venice Boulevard in Palms, according to Los Angeles County coroner's records. [For the record: The coroner's office said they initially believed Garcia's death was a homicide; however, during the investigation it was revealed to have been accidental.] On July 28, the Fire Department found Garcia on the sidewalk with trauma to his head, said LAPD Pacific Det. Mark Morgan, who handled the investigation. Garcia was taken to a hospital where it was discovered he had a fracture to the skull. He died two days later, Morgan said. Investigators went to the scene where Garcia was found to get more information about his injuries. While interviewing witnesses, it was revealed Garcia was intoxicated when he fell to the ground and hit his head.

That was on The Block (map/story) across from Bamboo, nowhere near the corner in the picture above, a photo I took of a homeless man sleeping downtown, used here for the man-on-concrete visual. This reminds me of the guy who decided to fall asleep on Glendon Ave. a couple years back. I can relate; I love lying in the street. I took a stretch in the middle of Hauser Blvd. off Jefferson the other night during Franky's birthday bonfire at Juan's place, which, fortunately for me, has scant traffic around midnight. You just have to be careful about how fast you lie down. Rest in peace, Mr Garcia.

I'm just glad it wasn't a homicide after all. Been hearing gunshots around here lately.

On that note, a hearty rest in peace to Bootsy's brother Catfish Collins, rhythm guitarist for numerous classics by James Brown and Parliament/Funkadelic a.k.a. the soundtrack to my life. He passed today from ill health. Here's a clip of him performing under James Brown for the very first time, x hours before he got the call from the King himself, and looking about as happy as I've ever seen a human being.

Saints & Sinners tonight, and you can probably guess what direction the playlist is going. Yep: the same direction it goes every fucking Friday, with or without the death of a funk legend. I'm on at ten. Come on down. I'm in a mood.

PS: Was set to write a scathing attack on the butch Starbucks cashier who never exchanges niceties with me, but today she wants to get all talkative. "Must be hot out there; you never get iced coffee." Cute. You could have started rocking the "speak loudly, I'm hearing impaired" apron a little earlier. Just saying.

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