— Sarah Miller’s essay "Relax. You’re in Los Angeles" on The Hairpin. CRJ really does put it best.
Articles I wish I’d written: "Comparing NYC and LA: Who is the Winner?"
At night, LA sounds like: Rainforest Café with occasional SWAT helicopters
At night, NYC sounds like: Law and Order SVU
If you hit rock bottom in NYC: You are silently ejected from the city in a Darwinian weeding-out-of-the-failures kind of way. One cannot financially afford to hit rock bottom in NYC.
If you hit rock bottom in LA: You move into a friend’s tree house in Venice for a bit. Can still date anyone of any status, can still attend prime events. Still have Wifi. Still vegan.
A 10AM meeting in NYC: Starts at 9:50AM
A 10AM meeting in LA: Would theoretically start at noon, but will be cancelled by both people and rescheduled 5 times
My friend emailed me this link with the note, “I think you will like this because you and I both lean towards the introspective and (maybe you also?) feel nostalgia for the dark times well as the light.” It’s a short musing on the positive side of youthful misery, as reflected upon by a now very life-together mother/wife/business owner. She writes:
Being settled — and a mom and wife with a cool career — was all I wanted for years and years. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the days when I had none of it. There was something really light about those very dark days.
Ladies, keep on keeping on down the long, long road. Enjoy your single life. The heartbreaks, the pain, the sucky, confusing, horrible-ness of it all. Surf the couches, fuck the guys, feel the pain, pound the shots, wear the heels, cry your eyes out, spend all day in the dark thinking about how hard it is for your plump fragile soul to survive this mean cold mindfuck called LIFE. Work your heart to it’s core. Then do it all again. You’ll find your way home when it’s time.
As I edge towards 30, I am acutely aware of how this free-spirited, spontaneous era is approaching its inevitable finale. Even if I’m not the one getting married or having babies yet, many of my friends will be starting soon. I imagine it will be near impossible to indulge in epic trips and 6am night outs once this new phase of adult responsibility hits. So for the time being, I’m living in the moment and savoring both the highs and the already-tinged-with-nostalgia lows.
Subject: We need to shop at Whole Foods more
"This being West Hollywood, she was not approached by anyone." #bestline
— Stephen Grosz in The Examined Life. AKA: the focus of all my attention on a flight from JFK to LAX last night. If you yearn for a book that will keep you thinking long after you turn the last page, this is it.
- Me: I've started oil pulling. You swish coconut oil around in your mouth for 20 minutes every day, and it pulls away all the bacteria and makes your skin glow.
- Friend: Wow. You've really embraced LA, haven't you?
I just read British documentary-maker Louis Theroux’s BBC article about living in Los Angeles. My eyes lit up at the following quote:
I adopted the LA practice of cycling simply for pleasure - “going biking”. (In the same way as Angelenos don’t walk anywhere but love to “hike”.)
"Hiking", yes! I myself engage in this favored Los Angeles activity every week or so. But as someone who grew up next door to the Rocky Mountains, I’ve had a confusing time wrapping my head around the SoCal version. For me, hiking = climbing a mountain. It usually takes several hours, involves significant elevation gain, and delivers stunning views. Bear spray is optional, but encouraged. In LA, "hiking" = a long-ish walk in a place surrounded by trees or desert, not urban infrastructure. When hiking here, I often find myself secretly thinking, "I wonder when the real hike will begin?"