i still have sand in my shoes
There is, without a doubt, a deep romanticism in standing in the Pacific at Venice Beach, watching the water crash into the rocks whilst wearing your rolled up jeans and contemplating the breathtaking beauty of nature.
It is less romantic when one a.) did not get one's jeans dry before leaving and soforth goddamn chafing when one wanders around for several hours in salty-wet jeans and b.) when one returns and sits down for a bit, one realizes all that endless wandering downtown has caused one's calves to do something desperately uncomfortable and one cannot get one's heels to the floor. Er, yet. Which yes, I should have stretched more, but blame the Pacific for being gorgeous.
I have no excuse for wearing jeans while walking in the Pacific, except come the hell on, it's the Pacific Ocean; you can do many things in life, but refusing the ocean will never be one of them.
(I am also pretending I am not sunburned; this is working extremely well.)
I know it has been called cold (theoretically, I know very well why it's cold), but okay, I'm from Texas and I go to the Gulf; I do not associate bodies of salt-water with being cold and yet, my God. That was very cold.
Currently on the third floor terrace of the hotel near the meeting rooms with two blankets liberated from the service area. Stairs are not easily navigated to here and the maps are surprisingly not really helpful, as some stairs only go to certain floors, some stairs end at certain floors, and some are hidden in a strange, twisty journey through the back service areas, which is actually a good thing, as they recognize me and nod when they see me walk by them wandering toward the stairs (as I've been here since Thursday and while I know this hotel has a lot of staff, only five ever seem to be in this area) and so did not notice me limping pathetically toward the blanket supply to liberate two of them for terrace-sitting purposes; June nights in California are surprisingly chilly, and I am pretending that wrapping my legs up in layers of very warm blanket will encourage my heels go down to the floor now or I will need to liberate a pillow and sleep here. I only brought one pair of heels with me, and trust me when I say, they aren't my comfy Mary Janes that I could run a mile in. These are my platforms that were specifically created so you can sit down and show off how gorgeous they are. I can walk in them fine, but I can fall in them so much better.
You might think balcony entrapment is bad--I am not saying it is great or anything--but experience suggests come around two AM, I will be entertained with a surprisingly consistent array of terribly un-PC language from the sidewalk outside as two or more people (could actually be the same people; the script is weirdly consistent) usually spend this time shouting the same ten to fifteen words at each other for several hours. Weirdly, it's not even like, vitriolic hatred; they kind of sound bored, like they're really in need of new material. I've considered typing up a new script and leaning over to shout it down at them, but then I remember this is not TV and will not end in a humorous anecdote, even if I am in LA and it does seem like the beginning of an indy romantic dark comedy (if it is, I'll be the mysteriously dead body found in an unlikely place; wait, this sounds more BBC Sherlock). Though seriously, how many times can you come to the same sidewalk on the same street when LA has lots of streets and many are much more interesting than this one? Apparently, every time I'm out here at 2 AM, that's how many times.
Claustrophobia has huge downsides at this point.
Still though, the Pacific was beautiful and I can check it off of the list of things I want to see. La Brea tar pits, however, may not be in the near future, however, unless I get lucky and one of the 2 AM shouters ad-libs in that he deals in illicit pharmaceuticals and is willing to take shouted requests for Vicodin, plz.
The con was lovely and culture shock and fascinating all three. The con organizers were basically amazing and I'm honestly awed how smoothly they put this together and how well-organized it was. And my God, some of the vids they showed, both old and new, just floored me. Anyone setting TOS/Reboot to Placebo deserves like, anything they want, ever.
I stood in the Pacific ocean today. I haven't stopped smiling yet.
ETA: I am not singing Take My Breath Away to myself, but oh, it is a very close thing.
Posted at Dreamwidth: http://seperis.dreamwidth.org/89751.html. | You can reply here or there. |
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It is less romantic when one a.) did not get one's jeans dry before leaving and soforth goddamn chafing when one wanders around for several hours in salty-wet jeans and b.) when one returns and sits down for a bit, one realizes all that endless wandering downtown has caused one's calves to do something desperately uncomfortable and one cannot get one's heels to the floor. Er, yet. Which yes, I should have stretched more, but blame the Pacific for being gorgeous.
I have no excuse for wearing jeans while walking in the Pacific, except come the hell on, it's the Pacific Ocean; you can do many things in life, but refusing the ocean will never be one of them.
(I am also pretending I am not sunburned; this is working extremely well.)
I know it has been called cold (theoretically, I know very well why it's cold), but okay, I'm from Texas and I go to the Gulf; I do not associate bodies of salt-water with being cold and yet, my God. That was very cold.
Currently on the third floor terrace of the hotel near the meeting rooms with two blankets liberated from the service area. Stairs are not easily navigated to here and the maps are surprisingly not really helpful, as some stairs only go to certain floors, some stairs end at certain floors, and some are hidden in a strange, twisty journey through the back service areas, which is actually a good thing, as they recognize me and nod when they see me walk by them wandering toward the stairs (as I've been here since Thursday and while I know this hotel has a lot of staff, only five ever seem to be in this area) and so did not notice me limping pathetically toward the blanket supply to liberate two of them for terrace-sitting purposes; June nights in California are surprisingly chilly, and I am pretending that wrapping my legs up in layers of very warm blanket will encourage my heels go down to the floor now or I will need to liberate a pillow and sleep here. I only brought one pair of heels with me, and trust me when I say, they aren't my comfy Mary Janes that I could run a mile in. These are my platforms that were specifically created so you can sit down and show off how gorgeous they are. I can walk in them fine, but I can fall in them so much better.
You might think balcony entrapment is bad--I am not saying it is great or anything--but experience suggests come around two AM, I will be entertained with a surprisingly consistent array of terribly un-PC language from the sidewalk outside as two or more people (could actually be the same people; the script is weirdly consistent) usually spend this time shouting the same ten to fifteen words at each other for several hours. Weirdly, it's not even like, vitriolic hatred; they kind of sound bored, like they're really in need of new material. I've considered typing up a new script and leaning over to shout it down at them, but then I remember this is not TV and will not end in a humorous anecdote, even if I am in LA and it does seem like the beginning of an indy romantic dark comedy (if it is, I'll be the mysteriously dead body found in an unlikely place; wait, this sounds more BBC Sherlock). Though seriously, how many times can you come to the same sidewalk on the same street when LA has lots of streets and many are much more interesting than this one? Apparently, every time I'm out here at 2 AM, that's how many times.
Claustrophobia has huge downsides at this point.
Still though, the Pacific was beautiful and I can check it off of the list of things I want to see. La Brea tar pits, however, may not be in the near future, however, unless I get lucky and one of the 2 AM shouters ad-libs in that he deals in illicit pharmaceuticals and is willing to take shouted requests for Vicodin, plz.
The con was lovely and culture shock and fascinating all three. The con organizers were basically amazing and I'm honestly awed how smoothly they put this together and how well-organized it was. And my God, some of the vids they showed, both old and new, just floored me. Anyone setting TOS/Reboot to Placebo deserves like, anything they want, ever.
I stood in the Pacific ocean today. I haven't stopped smiling yet.
ETA: I am not singing Take My Breath Away to myself, but oh, it is a very close thing.
Posted at Dreamwidth: http://seperis.dreamwidth.org/89751.html. | You can reply here or there. |
comments