Def
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Showing posts with label l.a.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label l.a.. Show all posts
Monday, June 21, 2010
Friday, December 19, 2008
Pontifications.
L.A. is indeed a harsh, but beautiful mistress. I can never let her go.
The older you get, the more difficult and bizarre relationships (or attempts at them) become. Do not doubt me on this one. People get more complicated and idiosyncratic the older they get.
Fatty's in Pasadena is probably one of the best restaurants at which I have ever eaten. It is exquisite.
Never underestimate the power of revealing conversation. Also, never underestimate that it could be simply that, and nothing more. And try not to be disappointed.
Beer tastes even better after the end of a long, hard semester. Actually, beer tastes good after a lot of long, hard things.
And finally, never underestimate the simple pleasures of accomplishment, whatever form that takes for you.
The older you get, the more difficult and bizarre relationships (or attempts at them) become. Do not doubt me on this one. People get more complicated and idiosyncratic the older they get.
Fatty's in Pasadena is probably one of the best restaurants at which I have ever eaten. It is exquisite.
Never underestimate the power of revealing conversation. Also, never underestimate that it could be simply that, and nothing more. And try not to be disappointed.
Beer tastes even better after the end of a long, hard semester. Actually, beer tastes good after a lot of long, hard things.
And finally, never underestimate the simple pleasures of accomplishment, whatever form that takes for you.
Friday, November 21, 2008
L.A.
One of the things I miss about living in a big metropolitan city like Los Angeles is the random weird shit you would observe during the course of a day. Certainly, that happened when I was living in Seattle too, but the occurrences were usually more infrequent and significant enough that they garnered extensive attention...the incident in 1995 where a homeless guy stood on the corner of Pike (or Pine--they ran parallel and even after four years of living there, I never got them straight) downtown, holding up a sword for hours in a stand-off with police, comes to mind (my co-workers and I watched him off and on for hours from our safe high-rise office vantage point)...but in L.A., every day there was some bizarre piece of behavior or visual anomaly you could observe and note for sharing with your partner (or roommate, or cat) when you got home.
Anyway, one that came to mind today--that I still find particularly funny--was when I was walking into a Target in Culver City and this guy, who looked like he'd been up for about a week (and was probably doing a healthy amount of meth while depriving himself of sleep) was dragging along one of those rolling luggage bags behind him on the sidewalk that circled the strip mall. That in itself isn't really very weird, but he had a boom box resting inside of the luggage, and the zipper was pulled down so that he could blast the sounds of ABC's "Poison Arrow." It was an odd choice of music; even though it was a big hit in 1982-83, it was nearly 25 years old by the time everyone could hear it coming out of his suitcase.
At any rate, I've always been one who appreciates oddballs. Especially oddballs who are so demonstrative; who shake up the status quo of any situation, but do it without harming anyone. This guy fit the bill. Perhaps I was moved as well because the song reminded me of my childhood, and while a revisitation of music that wasn't that great in the big picture, it was nonetheless instrumental in the early formulation of my musical tastes (I still love New Wave). I'm sure my response was a culmination of all of the above, but whatever was creating the positive vibe, I felt the need to comment. "That's the coolest fucking thing ever," I said to him. He shot me an amused glance, as if to say, "Of course it is. And now, I'll be moving on."
He continued his trajectory around the corner of a Subway restaurant; to where he was headed, I don't know. But as I watched him drag away his moving piece of art/memory, I couldn't stop smiling.
Anyway, one that came to mind today--that I still find particularly funny--was when I was walking into a Target in Culver City and this guy, who looked like he'd been up for about a week (and was probably doing a healthy amount of meth while depriving himself of sleep) was dragging along one of those rolling luggage bags behind him on the sidewalk that circled the strip mall. That in itself isn't really very weird, but he had a boom box resting inside of the luggage, and the zipper was pulled down so that he could blast the sounds of ABC's "Poison Arrow." It was an odd choice of music; even though it was a big hit in 1982-83, it was nearly 25 years old by the time everyone could hear it coming out of his suitcase.
At any rate, I've always been one who appreciates oddballs. Especially oddballs who are so demonstrative; who shake up the status quo of any situation, but do it without harming anyone. This guy fit the bill. Perhaps I was moved as well because the song reminded me of my childhood, and while a revisitation of music that wasn't that great in the big picture, it was nonetheless instrumental in the early formulation of my musical tastes (I still love New Wave). I'm sure my response was a culmination of all of the above, but whatever was creating the positive vibe, I felt the need to comment. "That's the coolest fucking thing ever," I said to him. He shot me an amused glance, as if to say, "Of course it is. And now, I'll be moving on."
He continued his trajectory around the corner of a Subway restaurant; to where he was headed, I don't know. But as I watched him drag away his moving piece of art/memory, I couldn't stop smiling.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Of lost IDs and found memories.
My L.A. trip was the metaphor for all that L.A. has ever been for me: exciting, frustrating, strange and beautiful. I lost my driver's license and credit card within hours of arriving and was forced to reconfigure my trip, since I now could no longer rent a vehicle to bring all my stuff from storage back home. I didn't get to see half the people I planned to see, but the ones I did made up for it. I came home busted out, sore, sick and tired, but I'd do it all over again. Some things I learned:
1.) Never, NEVER trust that a shitty little special occasion purse you buy from Claire's will stay shut. Always know that the only thing that will fall out of it is the thing you need most, i.e. your ID and credit card.
2.) Never, NEVER walk two drunken anger-fueled miles in platform heels, no matter how tough you think you are and no matter how many cool nighttime photos of the L.A. aqueduct you can get. You will arrive at your host's home with bleeding feet and a bruised psyche, and will feel really stupid in the morning.
3.) When paying $422 dollars for a flight home because that's your only option, take respite in the fact that you might get upgraded to first class, like I did on the first leg of my return flight. I must say, that made it almost worth it. Those hot towels and cushy seats rock the fucking house. Plus the very attractive ad exec sitting beside me shared my enthusiasm for Hillary Clinton.
4.) Always eat at El Pollo Loco, at least once a visit. It sucks, but it's 800 times better than Taco Bell. I've missed it. Kentucky's Mexican fast food selection blows.
5.) Always pack a washcloth. My girlfriend doesn't use them (she's a loofah woman), and I didn't feel clean all week. My hands just aren't nubby enough for cleaning satisfaction.
6.) Take more pictures of your friends. The only ones I got of J. Paul and Darci were blurry at best because I hate using flash in low-light; it washes people out. And I was too sheepish to ask my mentor/former instructor Chris if I could take one of him. And damn, I regret it.
7.) There's always Thanksgiving. I'm already researching a return trip.
Thank you L.A., for being the beautiful bitch you always are to me. I'll keep crawling back, because so much of my love is wrapped up in you.
xoxo-Alexandra
1.) Never, NEVER trust that a shitty little special occasion purse you buy from Claire's will stay shut. Always know that the only thing that will fall out of it is the thing you need most, i.e. your ID and credit card.
2.) Never, NEVER walk two drunken anger-fueled miles in platform heels, no matter how tough you think you are and no matter how many cool nighttime photos of the L.A. aqueduct you can get. You will arrive at your host's home with bleeding feet and a bruised psyche, and will feel really stupid in the morning.
3.) When paying $422 dollars for a flight home because that's your only option, take respite in the fact that you might get upgraded to first class, like I did on the first leg of my return flight. I must say, that made it almost worth it. Those hot towels and cushy seats rock the fucking house. Plus the very attractive ad exec sitting beside me shared my enthusiasm for Hillary Clinton.
4.) Always eat at El Pollo Loco, at least once a visit. It sucks, but it's 800 times better than Taco Bell. I've missed it. Kentucky's Mexican fast food selection blows.
5.) Always pack a washcloth. My girlfriend doesn't use them (she's a loofah woman), and I didn't feel clean all week. My hands just aren't nubby enough for cleaning satisfaction.
6.) Take more pictures of your friends. The only ones I got of J. Paul and Darci were blurry at best because I hate using flash in low-light; it washes people out. And I was too sheepish to ask my mentor/former instructor Chris if I could take one of him. And damn, I regret it.
7.) There's always Thanksgiving. I'm already researching a return trip.
Thank you L.A., for being the beautiful bitch you always are to me. I'll keep crawling back, because so much of my love is wrapped up in you.
xoxo-Alexandra
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