(no subject)
I moved to LA because my buddy Paul Bartunek found a one-person place. He moved off as an on-the-spur-of-the-moment decision, not realizing that he had to give his current landlord a 60-day notice. So he had two apartments. That's a lot of money to be spending when you're as employed as Paul. So I told him I'd take over for him. So I am, in a sense, being Paul Bartunek for two months. Lucky me!
What happens to me after these two months all depends on whether I can get stable work (or just a buttload of money) by the time the lease ends. I can stay another month pretty cheap, subleasing from my friend Tim. Tim will be going on tour with a band, documenting them on their way to stardom. I would be living in his room in Silver Lake.
I've been here over a week now and I haven't been seriously looking for a job. I'll start tomorrow. Monday. Fresh start.
LA is a pretty cool city. I liken it to one of my relationships: I'm enamored with it for now and ignoring its flaws. In due time it will start bugging me and I'll wonder why I even bothered. Then I'll move away and wonder why I would ever leave it. That's my guess.
This part of town, East LA, is pretty cool. This specific part of town is kind of shady. I'm living on the Los Feliz/Silver Lake/Atwater Village/Glassell Park border. Kinda East Hollywood. A semi-former gang area. Very Mexican.
It's very hot here. Not humid, though. This confuses me, being from a place where "it's hot" means that your clothes are sticking to you from sweat and, somehow, condensation. It's just blaring, bright, and hot, cooler in the shade. I'm adapting.
On Independence Day I went to Venice Beach to watch the fireworks. There were three or four fireworks displays of diminishing sizes blasting off down the coast. Cold ocean breezes were flowing in. It was nice to need a jacket.
I like the ocean. It's salty. I'll never get over how salty it is.
Throughout the week I spent my time shopping for the things that I couldn't fit in my tiny car on the way here. I still need a mattress. I've been living in a sleeping bag on my carpet. Watch out, ladies!
Driving here is a culture in and of itself. It's odd. Everybody is a bad driver. Cops are probably the worst.
I saw a Comedy Death Ray that included Demetri Martin ($5, not bad). I checked out the Griffith Park Observatory and hiked up Mount Hollywood.
I ate a $7 bratwurst. I should have gotten the rattlesnake bratwurst, but I didn't.
I went to a lame bar in Venice for a lame birthday party, but then had an impromptu swim in the ocean at 2:45 am. That was a pretty wonderful experience. Warm water at night. No sharks, apparently.
Today I went to Six Flags. It's like Cedar Point but with Mexicans instead of Juggalos.
Give me three months and I'll be fluent in spanish.
What happens to me after these two months all depends on whether I can get stable work (or just a buttload of money) by the time the lease ends. I can stay another month pretty cheap, subleasing from my friend Tim. Tim will be going on tour with a band, documenting them on their way to stardom. I would be living in his room in Silver Lake.
I've been here over a week now and I haven't been seriously looking for a job. I'll start tomorrow. Monday. Fresh start.
LA is a pretty cool city. I liken it to one of my relationships: I'm enamored with it for now and ignoring its flaws. In due time it will start bugging me and I'll wonder why I even bothered. Then I'll move away and wonder why I would ever leave it. That's my guess.
This part of town, East LA, is pretty cool. This specific part of town is kind of shady. I'm living on the Los Feliz/Silver Lake/Atwater Village/Glassell Park border. Kinda East Hollywood. A semi-former gang area. Very Mexican.
It's very hot here. Not humid, though. This confuses me, being from a place where "it's hot" means that your clothes are sticking to you from sweat and, somehow, condensation. It's just blaring, bright, and hot, cooler in the shade. I'm adapting.
On Independence Day I went to Venice Beach to watch the fireworks. There were three or four fireworks displays of diminishing sizes blasting off down the coast. Cold ocean breezes were flowing in. It was nice to need a jacket.
I like the ocean. It's salty. I'll never get over how salty it is.
Throughout the week I spent my time shopping for the things that I couldn't fit in my tiny car on the way here. I still need a mattress. I've been living in a sleeping bag on my carpet. Watch out, ladies!
Driving here is a culture in and of itself. It's odd. Everybody is a bad driver. Cops are probably the worst.
I saw a Comedy Death Ray that included Demetri Martin ($5, not bad). I checked out the Griffith Park Observatory and hiked up Mount Hollywood.
I ate a $7 bratwurst. I should have gotten the rattlesnake bratwurst, but I didn't.
I went to a lame bar in Venice for a lame birthday party, but then had an impromptu swim in the ocean at 2:45 am. That was a pretty wonderful experience. Warm water at night. No sharks, apparently.
Today I went to Six Flags. It's like Cedar Point but with Mexicans instead of Juggalos.
Give me three months and I'll be fluent in spanish.