Los Angeles was interesting. Sort of like an assortment of mismatched socks. You like them each individually, but together they really won't work. At odds. Now, I'm not saying you can't take a few fuck-it-all pills and rock said assorted socks, I'm just suggesting that sometimes you want things (your feet in this analogy) to look - and feel - a certain way. And so LA... where everyone's an actor and dreams go to die, can be similar to both the conservative gold-toe socks (all business, who cares for comfort) and also the Surfing Santa Claus socks Steve and Fran bought me for Christmas (works that week, not really applicable all year). It can be a place where incredible things happen. Surprising things. Big business deals and talk of television shows. It can also be a place where you can become complacent. Sun, surf, decent drinks, alright eateries... Why leave LA? But now, having escaped it's golden grip, it seems all too easy. All too obvious. And I yearn for more. More Malibu. More rooftop BBQ'in. More late nights in an odd apartment. More tacos. More Thai food. More Monday nights at Little Dom's. More Monkey Glands at the Alcove. More Chet Baker with breakfast. More of so many things... But I'll be back. Sooner than expected, I suppose. But I won't let LA do what I know it wants to do - grab hold and never let go. I'll escape, often. But I'll be eager to go back. Because it's an epicenter, and at this point it's what I want, or maybe what I need.
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