I will never be this prolific again. But so much is happening! Isn’t everyone in Los Angeles is some kind of writer anyway?
The second day of my outdoor showering experience I caught myself enjoying the sunshine and cool winds and thought to myself, "Hey, this is almost nice. I can see what those nudists are all about." Then an aggressive BEE came and suddenly I was exposed and afraid, in the middle of someone else's backyard with no way to defend myself against the insect’s stinger. I thought hiding in the water would be enough, but the evil creature and its unpredictable flight pattern kept darting up to the edge and almost into the stream. With the low water pressure, the water surface area was not enough to keep me entirely protected and I actually started to think about escape strategies, none of which would have ended well. Needless to say the terror reminded me why humans invented indoor plumbing. So much for being a hippie.
This was all foretold in a dream I had in the Airstream the night before. In the dream a gigantic bumble bee not only stung me, but latched on to my arm so tightly that a giant hole was created when someone pulled it off (My precious hands!) Maybe there's some kind of dark magic in this converted RV. Or perhaps I’ve been reading too much of the Alchemist.
My new apartment is the first one I saw on my scouting adventure. I wasn’t in love with it at first; the morning clouds and empty streets of pre-rush hour L.A. muted the color and downplayed the vitality of the neighborhood. But in the end the right price, right location, a cozy enclosed sun room for the kitties, and my own personal coin-free washer and dryer were the game-changers. Also there’s a Harry Potter style crooked turret. Not my own personal turret but still one step closer to that dream (my apartment is the upper left back corner). I’ll admit I was tantalized by bougier places with security desks and rooftop jacuzzi decks. Especially since my partners seem to be living the high life and enjoying it. Alas I am too practical to go over-budget before starting a job not knowing where it will lead. Besides if I start trying to chase the SO-FANCY life now, I’ll only disappoint because I will NEVER keep up with the Kardashians. So when you stay with me (in a guest room that I can afford) just don’t mention the sundeck. Cry about it at the beach instead.
Lease is signed so I decided to fall in love with my new neighborhood and have already made plans with myself to start my California “locavore” diet consisting only of late night street tacos, Hawaiian-style poke bowls and ridiculously overrepresented juices when I move in next month. Having traipsed around the new hood makes the whole moving idea a reality. I can actually live here (maybe) without being overwhelmed by the sprawl and sunshine and intimidatingly pretty people.
If I was a more creative person, I would write vignettes about the amazing citizens of Los Angeles I have encountered. The woman wearing what I’m assuming were expensive arty jeans but in essence looked like white denim with poop smears down the front. The man clearly relishing his Beverly Hills pedicure who then took offense when the salon owner suggested doing his eyebrows as well. The gang of urban youths gathered outside a popular streetlight sculpture for a late-night yoyo convention. Everyone embraces the “you do you” motto; so I’m ready to start doing me, whatever me is.
The second day of my outdoor showering experience I caught myself enjoying the sunshine and cool winds and thought to myself, "Hey, this is almost nice. I can see what those nudists are all about." Then an aggressive BEE came and suddenly I was exposed and afraid, in the middle of someone else's backyard with no way to defend myself against the insect’s stinger. I thought hiding in the water would be enough, but the evil creature and its unpredictable flight pattern kept darting up to the edge and almost into the stream. With the low water pressure, the water surface area was not enough to keep me entirely protected and I actually started to think about escape strategies, none of which would have ended well. Needless to say the terror reminded me why humans invented indoor plumbing. So much for being a hippie.
This was all foretold in a dream I had in the Airstream the night before. In the dream a gigantic bumble bee not only stung me, but latched on to my arm so tightly that a giant hole was created when someone pulled it off (My precious hands!) Maybe there's some kind of dark magic in this converted RV. Or perhaps I’ve been reading too much of the Alchemist.
My new apartment is the first one I saw on my scouting adventure. I wasn’t in love with it at first; the morning clouds and empty streets of pre-rush hour L.A. muted the color and downplayed the vitality of the neighborhood. But in the end the right price, right location, a cozy enclosed sun room for the kitties, and my own personal coin-free washer and dryer were the game-changers. Also there’s a Harry Potter style crooked turret. Not my own personal turret but still one step closer to that dream (my apartment is the upper left back corner). I’ll admit I was tantalized by bougier places with security desks and rooftop jacuzzi decks. Especially since my partners seem to be living the high life and enjoying it. Alas I am too practical to go over-budget before starting a job not knowing where it will lead. Besides if I start trying to chase the SO-FANCY life now, I’ll only disappoint because I will NEVER keep up with the Kardashians. So when you stay with me (in a guest room that I can afford) just don’t mention the sundeck. Cry about it at the beach instead.Lease is signed so I decided to fall in love with my new neighborhood and have already made plans with myself to start my California “locavore” diet consisting only of late night street tacos, Hawaiian-style poke bowls and ridiculously overrepresented juices when I move in next month. Having traipsed around the new hood makes the whole moving idea a reality. I can actually live here (maybe) without being overwhelmed by the sprawl and sunshine and intimidatingly pretty people.
If I was a more creative person, I would write vignettes about the amazing citizens of Los Angeles I have encountered. The woman wearing what I’m assuming were expensive arty jeans but in essence looked like white denim with poop smears down the front. The man clearly relishing his Beverly Hills pedicure who then took offense when the salon owner suggested doing his eyebrows as well. The gang of urban youths gathered outside a popular streetlight sculpture for a late-night yoyo convention. Everyone embraces the “you do you” motto; so I’m ready to start doing me, whatever me is.
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