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May 21, 2008
In the Words of Randy Newman
I love L.A.
Of course, everyone I know and love who doesn't live here hates it. And tells me so. Repeatedly.
And due to my recent existential crisis tentatively titled, "I hate my job" (apparently, not the first job I have felt this about?) I've thought about moving elsewhere.
Just like I have, oh, every 6 months since I started living here in 2001.
But L.A. always calls me back.
I know, I know, the traffic, the superficiality, the necessity of a car, the incessant SUN, oh December, you disappoint me with your 70 degrees and balmy so I will go to The Grove where there is fake snow and also, Nordstrom. Yay, I feel Christmas-y again.
The other day I was driving along Beverly, though, and passed by the hotel I used to always stay at before I moved here, the Beverly Laurel (downstairs is Swingers where apparently Drew Carey treated all the Writers' Guild to a hefty discount during the strike and also where Romy & Michelle from Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion decide to go to their reunion) and I remembered why I moved here.
My then-boyfriend Allan and I came down here for work, and we walked (oh yes, we WALKED, crazy San Franciscans; I believe Baudriallard said it best in America, when he wrote, "If you get out of your car in this centrifugal metropolis, you immediately become a delinquent; as soon as you start walking, you are a threat to public order, like a dog wandering in the road" (ok, maybe Missing Persons said it best)) around the hood. And we headed out to Largo on a random Tuesday and saw Jon Brion. Hello?! And maybe we bought me some freaky flame underwear on Melrose slightly (ok, really) drunk after JB and what is that if not impetus to make a life change?
And then we drove everywhere, and I saw all the LA people doing their freaky shiite. And I fell In Love.
In. Love.
People in LA are weird. I understand if you don't find want to hear about someone's latest master cleanse when you're having a Wednesday night cocktail at your local wine bar, or aren't down with the fact that most of our best restaurants are in strip malls, or can't get past the smog.
But I walked around and saw FUN. Light, fluffy, FUN.
And you know? I tend naturally toward the morose and introspective. I spend too much time playing my own private detective, toeing up stones and gently prying open drawers to see what I've been hiding even from myself.
Los Angeles is a good balance to that.
And you, recipients of the angst, should be grateful.
I may not be entirely happy (yet), but looks like another perfect day.
Posted by jen at May 21, 2008 11:53 PM
Comments
"Crank up the Beach Boys, baby...
Don't let the music stop"
Jen, I would really love to go out with you...
just some 'LA people doing their freaky shit'.
Interested?
Kip
braintacomusic@msn.com
Posted by: Kip at May 22, 2008 05:45 AM
There are people in the Bay Area who don't walk -- my coworkers. Whenever I go to one of the few lunch spots near work, they say, "It's so far away." It's something like four blocks away. And now I have Missing Persons stuck in my head.
Posted by: Dagny at May 22, 2008 07:40 PM
The silence here is deafening...
Wow...OK...
Went and saw The Police & Elvis Costello tonight at the Hollywood Bowl...
...and you could have gone with me...
Kip
braintacomusic@msn.com
Posted by: Kip at May 28, 2008 03:28 AM
Jen,
Thought of you tonight...
Went to Dodger Stadium and watched the Dodgers spank the Colorado Rockies 8 to 2...and after the last out, what song blasts over the PA system???
Your man, Mr. Randy Newman's "I Love L.A."!
I have to admit - it made me smile...
I had two extra tickets, too...you and Neeta????
Kip
braintacomusic@msn.com
Posted by: Kip at June 2, 2008 11:48 PM