It’s 4.20. I’ve circled the block of Selma and Cahuenga for twenty minutes and finally settled on a parking spot…or, rather, been chosen by the parking gods to receive the benison of a parking spot in West Hollywood.
Despite the flaring pain of my sciatic nerve, I find myself loath to leave my car behind, because I just saw the movie Drive, which indicates that people in this town do whatever the hell they want.
Leaving is never not hard. I know from experience that it’s a good thing. And it seems I’ve evolved enough to realize better the modes and degrees of leaving. Leaving my parents is a little issue–we’ll talk, I tell them, and Skype and FaceTime and whatever. It will be just the same as it’s been, except I won’t be napping on the couch on Sundays.
But then I try to explain to my brother how much I will miss him, and I feel as if I’m reaching into a meat grinder.
That’s the difference, whatever it’s made of, whatever it means.
Women here look so beautiful and hard.
I kind of envy them, and kind of don’t.
Whenever I drive into L.A., I wonder at the ubiquity of advertising. Doesn’t it dull the effect, at a certain point, to have so many billboards, so many murals, so many ads on the sides of busses?
- “You can’t say ‘Swiss’ without a Smile!”
- “The Finest in Cutting Tools.”
- “Es Miller Time.”
Everybody is constantly being told that everything is the best…how do they know what to buy?
By the time I claim a table at Caffe, Etc., my capacity for trust is burned out from sheer overwork, and I suspect every smile I encounter.
I came here first–meaning this particular caffe–because, as a result of the people I interviewed, and the people I interviewed them for, it feels like a harbor of good memories. In other words, like home.
As close to one as I can hope for, in L.A.
“The eternal silence of these infinite spaces fills me with dread.”
On the docket:
- Catch up with Kim, my fine artist friend from long ago.
- Interview the fabulous Leslie.
- Find some sort of theme for the L.A. travel article, culminating (I hope) in a visit to the Brown Derby. Where (I hope) one can still find something that resembles the penultimate scene in Swingers.
- Meet up with Vincent.
- And some kind of to-do in Pasadena. But that’s ages from now. Like, at least three days.