at the end of the long weekend i got on a train bound south to los angeles. when i arrived at union station in the hazy late-summer dusk my dear friend annamarie got me and gave me a great big hug.
los angeles is a silly city strung together by freeways and full of vaguely retro apartment complexes and all the palm trees you can imagine.
i've never liked it much despite its plethora of cultural offerings. it's a city spread thin and broad where you take a four-lane freeway to get from downtown to hollywood.
yet this time i thoroughly enjoyed myself. we enjoyed delicious vegan treats
from real food daily in west hollywood and the vintage stores
on melrose and cocktails at palihouse
(because we are, after all, ladies)
and an outrageous drag show on santa monica boulevard. it was the perfect respite from my tranquil hilltop and we went all-out.
los angeles seems silly to me not because it is a city based on image - what city isn't? - but because its residents are so overtly focused on image.
it's a make-or-break thing, all the more so when the traffic is thick and you're running late, latte in one hand and lipstick in the other in your leather-upholstered car.
but damn, even though you have to drive everywhere - and i hate that - it's a fun time. neon lights sparkle and speakeasies hide between mattress stores and sleazy establishments screaming GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS, next to barber shops and vintage clothing stores and photography galleries. it's an intoxicating chaos.