DESTROY LA!

I’ve always wondered how tourists must feel when they come to LA. I wonder what they think about the cluster fuck of architecture, the tiny skyline, and the thick pinkish cloud of smog that encases us. Where do you even go if you’re a visiting Swedish family of 5? Hollywood and Highland? Gross. Do you take taxis? It sucks, but you can forget about public transportation. I’ve lived here all my life and I still haven’t ridden a bus (Well, once, but I don’t want to talk about it). It’s taken me 3 years of living on my own to feel at home in this city, 3 years just to be able to connect all the different patches that make up its senseless sprawl. Sometimes I try to put myself in the mindset of an outsider and attempt look at the city with new eyes, usually when I’m stuck in traffic and trying to keep myself from just ramming into the car in front of me. It’s a calming exercise.

This past week I was going east on the 60 (unfortunately), when my IPOD died. I had been listening to MGMT, which must have been partly to blame for the bout of melancholy I experienced upon passing a group of homes built into a hill. Random palm trees surrounded them, and the recent rains had made the grass look fresh and green. The walls that presumably were there to keep the houses from sliding down the hill were covered in graffiti and the homes themselves were very square, very white, very 80s. Now, I’m sure it really was the grossest thing, but with the afternoon sky was gold and pink I thought it was really beautiful.

LA is kind of like what you’d get if a big, 70’s drag queen got transfigured into to a county, and that’s why I love it. That being said, this is probably one of the most annoying cities to navigate in the world. I’ve just begun trying to get any real sense of what it has to offer, but I’ve already learned a lot. For instance, best green enchiladas in the city? El Compadre on Sunset. There are two of them, so go to the one on the East side. No, you won’t see as any random celebs, but the service is so much better. The last time I went to the one across from Toi an idiot hostess took my name down, told me to wait at the bar for 20 minutes, and then 25 minutes later looked me dead the eye and told me she had never seen me before in her life. It was kind of funny, but not because it resulted in me eating at Cheebo, a joint I hate for its intense mediocrity.

Just to clarify, I shop on the east side of Melrose. God willing one day this whole career thing I’m banking on will happen and I’ll be able to migrate over to west half (hopefully before the Alexander McQueen store opens this Spring, but the odds aren’t looking too good). See, I’m from the hood son, don’t my obsession with all things fashion related fool you.

I’ve spent the past 3 years stuck studying in South Central. It wasn’t exactly the lifestyle change I’d imagined, but soon (after getting my car/Mac book/wardrobe stolen) I found myself moving in with my BFF and some random guy from Craigslist into a cute little apartment in Los Feliz where I now reside. So stop reading this blog now if you think that shopping means Robertson, that making art is being the millionth person to take party photos of skinny, pretty people (I get the impulse, so I only sort of hate you) or if you think music shouldn’t be as catchy as it is dirty.Now, before I piece out I’ll leave you with a good and bad list.

Good Things:

Midnight Juggernauts

The Babysitter shake at No Place Like Home in Los Feliz

The Saturday line up at Coachella

Pumpkin pie pancakes at the Griddle on Sunset

Vagina Dentata (If you didn’t watch Teeth last month you deserve to find out what this is the hard way)

Bad Things:

Dieting for spring/summer clothes

Day jobs

Dario Argento being looked at as a serious director (what do you even say to that?)

Jack Johnson at Coachella

Fafi not being one of my friends : (