LA is really fucking cool.
I get to write for Jacket Copy at the LA Times.
I got to write book reviews for the LA Times, too.
My apartment, built in 1923, is cool in summer.
But if it heats up, there’s always the pool.
And if I get thirsty, there’s a classic bar on the ground floor.
And my friends will come to my neighborhood and have steaks.
And have a drink at The Prince. Even those with sitters and toddlers ready to bring on the dawn.
David Lynch does the weather on the radio here. Yes, that David Lynch.
Every excellent author shows up to read here, except for Thomas Pynchon.
But I’ve met people who know him from his years living here in the 1960s. 2 degrees of separation from Thomas Pynchon. How cool is that?
Every excellent movie plays here. In amazing theaters.
We have the Hollywood Bowl and bowls of pho and ramen and udon and tofu hotpot.
The delicious food is without end. Likewise for arts and culture.
Skylight Books and Vroman’s and Metropolis Books: all good bookstores I can get to on the metro.
Same for the Central Library downtown.
Did I mention the weather? Need I?
Don’t be jealous. Come visit.
Thank you for making my imminent return more appealing and reminding me why I live there.
David Lynch does the weather? Sweet Jesus, that is absolutely amazing.
Uh… you’re supposed to keep this info on the QT, the down low, sub rosa. The place is crowded enough.
I want to be there soooo bad, yet here I am stuck in Mississippi. Why isn’t there a “Red State Refugee” plan to aid folks like me?
🙂
I would come visit if I wasn’t dying of ennui. In Houston.