the naked american

     we get so few rainy nights here in la that when they come around i find myself relishing them by doing nothing. i will open the blinds where i sit in my kitchen and look out at the rain falling - sometimes just staring, sometimes writing and sometimes i ask myself if there is anywhere else i would rather be.

there is little middle ground in this place. la is a fickle temptress and either you’ll love her from the moment you step out of your car or you will want to turn around immediately and head back to whichever place you thought you were leaving behind. just like so many other big cities, anything is possible here, including absolute self-destruction in a variety of colorful ways. it’s that unending possibility that has me saddled down with both the good and the bad i am constantly uncovering here.

i guess i am one of the lucky ones; i love la. it took a while for me to call her home though - the way it would to break in a new pair of boots or crisp blue jeans. you have to put her on and wear her for a while, get a feel for both the grit and the glitz. there is a lot of bullshit just waiting to pile down on top of you, but there are these beautiful grainy moments when everything seems, perhaps not right, but at least as it should.

this is not going to be some sapped down set of love songs to a city. it’s just how i am feeling tonight. if it ever does get that way, find me and punch me in the nose.

let me know you are going to do it first though.