If L.A. Is a a jungle than surely New York is a Mad House which makes me insanely happy to be out in the wild. I arrived on Jan. 17th. Leaving Rochester, where I spent Three weeks with my Family before the journey, it was 9 degrees. 8 hours later I land in L.A. To 80 degree weather. I immediately decide I am never going back to the east coast. this will be a recurring theme.
In a city like L.A where 'Whatever' is acceptable, I imagine its easy to turn into socialite molases. Kurt Vonnegut once suggested that everyone live in New York but leave before they get too hard and everyone should live in L.A. But leave before they get too soft. At this point I'm looking to get as mushy as possible.
L.A. Is like public high school for grown ups and it's a blast. Sometimes. People work in their scene, their scene is their work and all they seem to discuss is each other and each others work in their scenes. They talk of meaningless teens and tweets, faggy inter twining and only the first three seconds of any statement is comprehended or comprehensible. I think they're all too distracted by the weather. Distracted by The Guys or The girls. Or maybe it just continuously feels like sunday at 2pm and who doesn't love brunch? When it's bathing suit weather year round, I can see how one would become distracted by themselves too. Sometimes. Yes I have only been exposed to a small circle but Im pretty good about getting the feel of a place after a couple weeks. call it my 7th sense.
Yes there's this and that and what you've heard and what you've seen. There's traffic, pollution, crime, gangs, drugs, sex, trannys, celebs, glitz, glam, gutters, an abundance of tacos, wildlife stalking the streets and all the rest. and God is there so much flannel. if L.A. Blew up right now, the sky would be blanketed in various crossing patterns of unmatching colors. But its the west and it's gravitational pull is amazing. After two weeks out here, it only takes one moment every day to make me wonder why anyone would want to live back in NYC. I said it would be a recurring theme.
I'll be fine anywhere. I don't worry about losing attachments or abandoning loved ones. I should hope anyone who calls me their friend understands my need to disappear. Nor do I mistake friendly new acquaintances for lifelong relationships. We, like every moment, like every tick, like every breeze, like every performance, are in passing. It all come and goes. I find comfort in this. And like Cat Stevens sang "...there's a lot of that anywhere"
But in the L.A theres this shade of dusk light, a hinted emerald green caught between the fired sky above and shadowed mountains below. It lasts only as long as it takes the sun to sink in the smog polluted haze behind the hills that hold the fading streaks of hell so gently. From the bluff we watch a master at work, painting a watercolor right before our eyes. We see our fair dome fade to black vacuum, all within a few degrees and just beyond the neon purple hills' haze holds a thriving sky. Every sunset is more beautiful than the rest. As the day fades into night, so do I.