For decades now, the dumpster witch has been known for being spotted at iconic locations like Winkie’s Diner, recurring nightmares, and some of the best crust punk shows known to Los Angeles. We met up with them behind their favorite dumpster to discuss what it means to be a punk in LA.
The Hard Times: So why are you always at Winkie’s Diner?
Dumpster Witch: Winkie’s Diner has always been a staple of the punk community. They’re open late and let people loiter. Many great DIY venues are nearby. Plus it’s easy to find for all the people whose nightmares I inhabit to come make sure I’m not real. Spoiler alert, I totally am!
Where’s everyone now?
People come and go. The real ones stick around but sometimes you just get kids playing dress up then return to the suburbs once things get rough. It’s just like the movies. You’ll pretend to be someone else. I stick around often to scare off the phonies. You should see some of the suits I’ve freaked out.
Favorite venue nearby?
There’s one spot called Emerald City that’s been an institution for years. There was this great band of anarcho-crust folk punks called the Woodsmen who went anti-establishment after releasing this radio hit. Some repetitive chorus crap like “This is the water and this is the well”. They got much better after they stopped selling out.
How did you become a crust punk?
Moved here from Canada, fell in love, got messed up with the wrong people. In the end, this was the only life that made sense.
Is it true you were in Decline of Western Civilization Part 3?
(chuckles) That was a long time ago but yup that was me. I went by the name Stain back then. Looked much different then. Penelope Spheeris still comes by now and then. I loved her adaptation of The Little Rascals.
Has LA changed much over the years?
In some ways, yes. The music scene outside of a few spots is awful. There’s one venue called Club Silencio where the bands don’t even play live! It’s all a tape recording, an illusion. What a joke. Still, Los Angeles is the brutalist place in America. Every day people come here and every day people see their dreams die. That kind of energy creates some of the most punk music possible.
What do you do for money?
Play banjo on the corner, sell drugs, occasionally go outside Mann’s Chinese Theater dressed as Jack Sparrow for tourist money.
What drugs do you sell?
I take a blue box of trauma, dreams, and a few other ingredients then mix that box with tiny old people in a paper bag. Get one whiff of that and you’ll be spinning. I’ve sold to this one guy Frank who loves it so much he’s got a gas mask rig for it.