Sarah and Jeff in LA

The Worms - Part 2

2006-04-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

#3 - The APT

Apartment's looking sweet. We got a table. We got a futon. We hung some pictures. That part required some discussion.

A blank wall. Perhaps a painting would liven it up. But where to put it?

Here?

Or here?

Painting hung, the apartment is nearly finished. A few views:

Here we are looking out into the living room from the kitchen. Yes, it is a very blurry photo. Yes, I could take another. However, I choose not to, because that would mean I'd have to clean up the living room again and that's a lot of work. Plus, we have eaten many of the oranges in that bowl. And no one wants to see this view without the oranges.

The dining room. We have since gotten an orange rug to go under the table. It really ties the room together.

Here is a partial view of the living room from the dining room. As you can see, we have a lot more stuff. The futon is on display in the right hand side of the photo. I do not have a good picture of the futon. Whaddya want from me? It's a futon. You know what it looks like.

This is our fireplace. We had to bother our landlord for 2 months to get the fireplace turned on. As you can tell from the blue flame, it is not a real fireplace. It's gas powered. The picture is not obscuring anything - that's about as high as the flame gets. And it's all blue. There are few things more depressing than a fireplace with a blue flame. It turns on with a switch.

The kitchen. Nice and big. Perfect for grilling up chicken organs, our new favorite dish.

This is our favorite corner in the apartment. The orchid was a housewarming gift from our neighbors Honor and John. It is now on its last legs, but it had a good run.

The office. I bought this desk because I couldn't handle working on the couch all day. I am working from home, in case anyone wonders. I'm very proud of the desk. We got it from Ikea and it was a nightmare to put together. The doors and shelves all slide and close magnetically and do all these annoying, difficult things. Ikea directions are completely useless. I understand that they want to make everything international, but why can't they at least number the different parts? Here's what I had to deal with when I was putting this thing together:

Please direct your attention to the screws in the lower left and upper right hand corners. What, I ask you, is the difference between 108558 and 108444? And how am I supposed to pick them out of this mess:

The Worms - Part 1

2006-04-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time. I think the best thing to do when you have a blog is to not write for a long time and then begin your next post with the phrase "it's been a long time." That lets everyone know that you're aware of how much time has passed since you updated your blog and it makes the readers feel good, like we're all buddies, because we all have this shared experience of waiting for something together. Only I have the power to actively end the waiting for everyone, and you are but baby birds, waiting ravenously for Daddy to drop a big fat worm in your mouths.

Here, then, are the worms from the last few weeks.

#1 - Dry Ice

My harddrive blew up within two days of Sarah's. Luckily, I saved most of my documents. I lost all of my pictures from January to March, which is unfortunate because there was some funny stuff in there. Most notable was this bizarre-ass thing that Sarah took me to. Our first week in LA, she asked me if I wanted to go to this experimental music show with her - something called "You Too Can Make Difficult Music." I said yes, because I am a considerate boyfriend, something you fellows out there should look into.

When we get to the performance space where the show is being held, we see that the floor is covered with cymbals and bolts and screws and triangles and drumsticks and all this other crap, with a steaming bowl of dry ice placed in the middle. Seconds after we walk in, the "host" instructs us to grab some shit off the floor and start making music. I'm all, "okay, this is a little bit drum circlish, but I'm always up for a groovy jam," and I sit down and grab one of the drumsticks and a pipe. I start cooking up a tasty groove, a little scratch and tap on the ol' pipe, but to no avail. No one is interested in a drum circle, or in producing music with any semblence of rhythm - they're just looking to make noises. Difficult music, meaning difficult to listen to, understand, or enjoy.

After about 10 minutes, I tired of clanking things together and retired to a chair on the sidelines. One by one, I watched all the women drop out, until it was down to three or four dudes who were not about to stop playing with that dry ice. They were putting dry ice on the cymbals, they were screwing screws into it, they were rattling it around in tubes, they were rubbing it on guiros-you name it, if dry ice could somehow work itself into the mix, these dudes would find a way. This went on for about 20 more minutes, until the "host" arbitrarily decided that the song was complete. We all had a good clap and then took a break before the next performance. Except for Sarah and I, who left.

Now, I might get in trouble for writing this story in such a mocking tone. Sarah had a fun time. I was definitely not dying while I was there; partly because I kept thinking about how fun it would be to write about the evening later. It's possible that if I had been able to shake the thought that I was in a room full of dudes playing with dry ice and instead looked at it as just an interesting L.A. experience, I might have had a lovely time. I guess you could say I was trying to find a beat in a room without rhythm. Fade out on The Wonder Years logo.

#2 - Sushi with the Stars

Well, not sushi. It was a Japanese barbecue in Korea Town. One of Sarah's friends recommended it as "the place on such and such a street next to the place that's called Yama something," so we're not exactly sure that this was the place where we were really supposed to eat. We were both hungry for sushi, but it quickly became clear as we waited in the tiny waiting area that we were not going to get sushi at this particular restaurant. We were about to leave, when who should walk in the door but Allyce Beasley a/k/a Miss DiPesto from Moonlighting.

Allyce Beasley.

She looks much better than that now, actually. She was with her husband, a large Irish-looking guy who was most definitely not Vincent Schiavelli, the weird looking dude from Fast Times and Ghost who she was definitely married to in the past. He died recently. I found out later that he was rumored to be mean to her, which is horrible, because she was/is the UNDISPUTED NICEST PERSON IN ALL OF HOLLYWOOD.

We looked at her and she looked at us. "Hi!" she said. She's very friendly. "Hi!" we cleverly responded. "We've never been here before," we confessed. "Oh, it's one of our favorite places," she said, and her husband nodded. "Are you two organ eaters?" she asked. "Pardon?" we answered. (Yes, in case you're wondering, we were saying all of this in unison.) "Do you like organs? Hearts, livers, gizzards?" "We don't know," we replied, "although if we were to hazard a guess, we would guess 'no.'" "Well," she said, "if you decide to try the organs, you should go with the meal for one and split it. It's cheap and filling." Miss DiPesto, giving us money-saving tips. Welcome to Hollywood.

We sat down at our seat and she and her husband were seated minutes later. No star treatment for Miss DiPesto, we noted; she waits in line like everyone else. The place was a little busy, and I'm guessing they were afraid they wouldn't get their food quickly enough, so they left minutes after being seated. Before they left, however, Miss DiPesto turned to us and smiled and waved. The rest of the dinner was spent talking about how we thought she was the UNDISPUTED NICEST PERSON IN HOLLYWOOD. And eating organs. We took her advice. They were pretty gross.

Here is a picture of us at Kekekokko, still riding high on our Miss DiPesto interaction:

Afterwards, I immediately called Sonny to tell him about our brush with fame. By sheer random coincidence, he was Ms. Beasley's driver when she was performing in a play at the Hollywood Bowl a few years ago. He fell madly in love with her and she invited him to the after party, because she is, as we now all know, the UNDISPUTED NICEST PERSON IN HOLLYWOOD.

More worms for your greedy little maws coming soon...

Hurricane C-Dina

2006-03-25T18:21:00.000-08:00

I hope this posting will make up for the weeks of no posting. This is a bunch of pics and words to show what we've been up to.

5 month old Ben almost asleep!

Best Dad in the World.

Griffith Park - crazy kinds of flowers abound.

Reasons why Machos Tacos is my favorite spot in Los Feliz (our neighborhood)
#1 the delicious fish tacos, the best we've tasted so far. lightly fried, warm tortillas, topped with guacamole and tomatoes and onions and cilantro, and a side of chips and limes.
#2 it's on the corner of a really busy intersection squashed between the street and a really busy car wash. but they have made a little oasis for themselves and the customers. there's an ivy covered fence that separates the seating area from the six lanes of traffic.
#3 while you wait for them to prepare the order, you help yourself to slices of cucumber in a mild vinegar sauce, or marinated onions or jalepenos. i guess they're put out for the tacos but i think anyone can nibble on them.
#4 i noticed a lot of the car wash customers put their car in to be washed and hand-dried and go eat tacos while they wait. i want to do that.
#5 the owner was working saturday afternoon and i said i was new around here but had been here already several times. he said, 'when were you here? last saturday?" and I said, "yeah in the afternoon". and he said, "oh, i was here sat night, to eat, not to work, but i was pretty drunk and i went to the front of the line - and it was a long line and i felt lucky that i was the owner and could do that." i think it's a good sign when the owner craves his own food. or maybe he just wanted to cut the line and eat for free.
#6 they have little pots of herbs lined up at the silver pick-up counter. rosemary, mint, thyme. one of the pots is totally brown and dead, but no one had thought to remove it. i like that.

I promised pictures and here they are: Roger! Vasil, Mark and Terence. Really great guys, and muy talented. Vasil took a picture of me taking a picture of him.

Jeff put together our IKEA bookshelves lickety-split. I have been happily surprised that Jeff likes to do things I don't like to do, things like reading instructions to our coffee maker, and hammering and stuff. I did fix our running toilet though, and that impressed him.

Then we had a CD disaster! We had organized all our CD's, alphabatized them even...and then they all fell down.
-
i don't like vintage stores anymore. i used to. i used to LOVE vintage stores. but now they're way too expensive. Like in this one we went to on sunset nothing was under $200 - not even a lamp- come on. I think those stores are purposefully made to feel cluttered, like you're roaming through your aunt's attic and just stumbled upon this cute little thing. but you're NOT, you're roaming through a store where every item has been bought so you will buy it again. these stores are made for people who's aunts live too far away and they're too busy with their jobs anyway to look any further than this nice convenient store on sunset. one store owner was on his back fiddling with a motorcycle. people who pay that much for stuff are allowing this guy to get on his motorcycle and visit his aunt and on the way back collect even more nice stuff. This is not an LA thing in particular. But what are your other options? Buy everything at IKEA? I'm supposed to go back to one store on Wednesday night and look at a 60's wood table and chairs they're bringing in from storage. $350 bucks. Sucker.

one thing that you can find cheap in LA are coffee tables...that's because coffee tables seem to have gone out of style here. strange right? but true, the houses and apts i've visited so far have these smaller, higher, ottoman/table hybrids, made of leather, with trays on top. i won't pretend to understand. every garage sale and even the fancy sunset stores, all have low, modern, sleek coffee tables for $25. maybe we can build a dresser from a stack of coffee tables.

We went to pie 'n burger last night. my friend adam who lives here and who's lived here all his life he sends me weekly LA tips. Pie 'n burger was this week's tip. Julia, Sonny, Jeffrey, Ben and I went to Pasedena to ccccheck it out. We consumed:
4 cheeseburgers
3 fries and
Pie: Rhubarb, Lemon Merengue, Apple and Pecan (the best, it was hot with vanilla ice cream)
The waitress had a boob job (pictured above). I'm noticing these things out here. Did you know you can't breastfeed if you get a boob job?

I just got back from this tonight, Jeff stayed home to finish some freelance writing stuff :
I took part in a kazoo orchestra tonight, walking around Echo Park, handing out kazoos to anyone who would take them.
No pictures, but I just thought I'd share. here's the website explaining it kind of:
http://www.machineproject.com/difficult/hanson_vitaminwigc_wadle.php

Never buy a plant called money tree from Target. It starts looking like this a day after you buy it.

Urban Pioneers

2006-03-07T18:12:00.000-08:00

Apologies for the lack of new posts, but we've been trying to get our lives in order. Yesterday was another Hell day with the car. Our brakes were squeaking, so we had to drive out to the West side again (1 hour in ungodly LA traffic) to get them looked at. Our sales guy tried to convince us that it was no big deal. "You know, that's the number one complaint with new cars," he said when we complained. I bet if we had said, "flames are shooting out of the engine and the airbags are attacking us," he would've said, "you know, that's the number one complaint with new cars."

Our appointment was at 8:15. We dropped the car off, and waited around until 9:30 to get a loaner. After that, we drove out to Venice Beach to have breakfast with my friends Josh and David who were in town from New York. A lot of people used to confuse me and Josh with each other. I texted him the night before to ask him if people in L.A. were confusing us yet. He wrote back, "You're already a legend in the Venice Beach gay scene."

After breakfast, we went back to Carmax and dropped off the loaner. The brakes no longer squeak. Now they growl. We decided that the growling noise sounded much more car-like than the squeaking noise, and so we accepted our fate and decided to move on.

Since we were all the way out at Carmax, we decided to wait for the final payment to arrive from my credit union, just to make sure that everything was on the up and up. So we waited. And waited. Another marathon of UPS calls and Carmax pleading went until about 5:00. Finally, Carmax said we could have one more day to get them the money they expected.

When we came home, we found out that the credit union sent the check to our apartment instead of Carmax. What a nightmare. So this morning we picked the check up and made the hour long drive for what I hope to God is the last time.

I am pleased to report that we are now the proud owners of a $13,000 loan on a used Ford Focus.

Anyway, here are some pics from Saturday:

The lion roars! Yes, that is actually water coming out of his mouth! I never thought I'd see the day. Los Feliz Villas continue to amaze and delight even the most jaded among us.

This restaurant is right down the street from us. In case you doubt that we're living in the best neighborhood in the world, I believe the living proof is right here. Bro. It's a House of Frigging Pies.

Another local attraction is this house that Frank Lloyd Wright designed. Sonny knows a dude who actually went inside this house. He said the front hallway is made of sand.

Our urban adventure began at the foot of this totally nondescript hill.

"A nondescript hill?!? Get thee to the top of this motherfucker!"

Who knew that lurking at the top of the nondescript hill would be an amazing view of the city? The sky has been clear and beautiful since we've been here, with none of the famous LA smog. Before we left, I told Jonathan Hickman I read recently that 25% of LA's smog comes from China. Hickman's a scientist. "I don't think that's right," he said.

Sarah was so excited, she took a little tumble in the grass...

... and ate a dandelion.

While waiting to eat our first fish tacos in LA, Sarah gets annoyed at my ceaseless documenting. But the colors are so perfect!

This girl and her dog were the most amazing thing I've seen in Los Angeles so far, possibly the most amazing thing I have seen ever. The girl was wearing aviator sunglasses and an LAPD hat. She says the dog is a chihuahua, but it was like no chihuahua I have ever seen. It looked like a little tiny German shepherd. Her little brother was hanging out too, but he just looked like a normal stupid kid and therefore did not merit a photo. He told me the dog was on a hamster leash.

Relaxing without Chairs

2006-03-05T09:28:00.000-08:00

What to do when you are waiting for the moving truck to come and fill up your empty apt? You walk around fancy neighborhoods and try to peek inside! This wall that I'm walking along is ONE PERSON'S HOUSE!!! That's right, one person. I don't know who that person is. I was trying to think about how much space this house would take up in Park Slope. Maybe two or three blocks - and who knows how far back the house was. I'm sure I'll get used to seeing these kinds of palaces, but for now, I'm in shock. Oh, and I am on the phone with the guys I've been working with - a cool group of cats called Roger. They make fun and pretty things - http://www.roger.tv - I'll post a picture of them later on.

Adventures in Savings

2006-03-03T13:34:00.000-08:00

As Sarah mentioned previously, we have almost nothing to our names right now. So these first few days in LA consist of us replenishing the myriad supplies that we left behind in NYC. Because it is obvious to me that everyone we know is fascinated by the minutia of our daily lives, I have documented our first trip to Costco. Please note: Costco is far superior to the Wal-Mart owned Sam's Club. I say this because they give lots of money to Democrats. Read about them here, if you're so inclined.

Ya' know how everyone says it doesn't rain in LA? It has rained twice since we got here. Here Sarah braves the forces of mother nature to enter the store. Neither rain nor sleet nor gloom of night can stall the quest for AWESOME SAVINGS.

This is Sarah's brother-in-law Sonny. He has been an incredible help to us during our move, as has her sister Julia. They looked at a bunch of different apartments for us, in spite of the fact that they have a 4 month old baby at home. He does not usually look this surprised.

This is baby Ben. He seems a little hesitant to enter the Costco. Perhaps Ben is afraid that the savings will be too strong for his tender mind to handle.

Sarah spies a deal. $6.00 for a lifetime supply of sourdough pretzels.

Jeffrey does not approve.

Sarah carries the wee Ben like a papoose in her over-the-shoulder harness. Ben is considering picking up that 17 disc Avengers collection for $99. A good aunt would purchase it for him and let Uncle Jeffrey hang onto it until he's old enough to comprehend its awesomeness.

Back from the Costco with a new microwave, coffee maker, and 2 years worth of toilet paper, we cruise down a rain-soaked street back to the Villas.

Here, as promised, is our lion-head fountain that is not a fountain.

This is another view of the mall landscaping in our apartment. It's actually really nice walking in the door of our building and seeing nature. I think the first time I get drunk I will probably be inclined to sit in our mall garden and pretend I'm a conquistador.

Here Sarah is doing the grunt work of removing our purchases from our new used Ford Focus while I helpfully take pictures. The car situation is an ongoing nightmare. We bought it from Carmax, which is a used car place that prides itself on not haggling and not selling any cars that are fucked up. Because neither of us know anything about cars, we thought the idiot-proof purchasing plan would be the way to go. On Tuesday we drove out to Carmax, which is on the West Side, near LAX. It's about 25 miles from Los Feliz which means an hour drive on the backed-up LA freeways. We found the Focus after about an hour, and decided we wanted it. $11,500 with 24K miles. Not a bad deal, a little bit less than Bluebook. We were approved for a loan through Bank of America at 7.9% financing. I had no idea what this meant before Wednesday. For those who care, here's what it means: Bank of America would pay Carmax the entire price of the car. We would have to make monthly payments ($250) for 5 years with an interest rate of 7.9%. So a car that cost 11,500 sticker price actually ends up costing about $15,000. Now, before we went out to Carmax, I called the Flint school employees credit union, where I am a member, and was quoted a finance rate of 5.25%, which came out to a savings of about $2,000 over the life of the loan. We told Carmax that we had a better rate, and they said, "no problem, just get us the paperwork within 3 days and we can refinance through your credit union."

Here's where it gets tricky. In order to take the car, we had to get some kind of financing in place. At this point, it's about 6PM in Los Angeles, and the credit union employees in Flint, Michigan have long since gone home. Bank of America will give us the financing, but we needed to first give them some kind of proof that we are who we say we are. Remember, we have only lived in Los Angeles for one day at this point. We have no bills stating that we live in Los Feliz and New York State drivers licenses. The Carmax people went back and forth for about an hour while Sarah and I became more and more irritated. Finally, they told us that we could use our signed apartment lease as proof. Unfortunately, the business office of the Villas was closed, so no lease could be sent. We were told to return Wednesday with our lease to pick up the car.

Wednesday morning we called Flint and got approved for our loan. When I faxed the paperwork to my loan officer, Dianna, she called back frantically, saying, "this is already financed through Bank of America! This is a whole different loan application now!" I had her call Carmax and speak with them directly because I had no idea what was going on. I just wanted a car and I didn't want to pay $12,000 cash for it. It was finally determined that Bank of America would not get their paperwork for 3 days, meaning we had a 3 day window to get the loan papers from Flint, sign them, send them back, have Flint cut a check, and then send that check to Carmax. With this plan approved by the Carmax people, we headed out in the afternoon and picked up our car.

Thursday morning, the papers from Flint were nowhere in sight. We called Dianna, who told us they were supposed to come in at 10:30. Back and forth on our cell phones between the credit union, Carmax, and UPS, we learned at 2:00 that the UPS truck was in our area, and if we wanted our papers before 5, we would have to drive out to meet him in the "17-1800 block of Hillhurst Ave." We scrambled our stuff together and blew out the door, scanning the roads anxiously for the brown UPS truck. "UPS! UPS!" I screamed when I spotted it, nearly forcing Sarah off the road in a paroxysm of nervousness. The truck driver threw the package to me, I signed a hasty signature, and we were back in the car. Next step was getting our papers signed and notarized. $25 for a woman to watch us sign papers. 10 minutes later, the papers were FedExed back to Flint for morning delivery. As of right now, Flint has supposedly faxed the check to Carmax for arrival Monday morning, at which point we will not have to deal with financing again for awhile. Until we have to start paying, that is.

It suddenly occurs to me that it is difficult to capture how intensely frightening the experience of buying a car can be, particularly when you have very little proof that you exist. This could be the most boring story ever told. I will say this: as annoying as it all has been, I take solace in the fact that it all would have been 10 times as annoying in New York.

News and Views

2006-03-02T22:24:00.000-08:00

This is the front of our building. Our building is called the Los Feliz Villas and it's pretty hilarious. To the right, in the entranceway, is a stone lion water fountain. I haven't actually seen the water moving through the lion's mouth as it is seemingly supposed to. Instead, it is a stone lion's head with a spout sticking out of it above a pool of motionless water and leaves. I will take a picture of that later for everyone to enjoy.

The inside of our apartment building is outside. You come in through the entranceway and are greeted by these stairs. Behind the stairs a tropical garden sprouts from between waist-high walls, similar to mall landscaping. The color scheme, a tasteful orange and purple, does not prepare you for the stark whiteness of the actual apartments.

Here Sarah is enjoying a slice of pizza on the sidewalk outside our building. I think I remember reading somewhere that all of the palm trees in LA are imported. That's a lot of importing.

This is Sarah in front of our purple door. I'm not sure what she's doing.

This is the view from Griffith Park. The entrance to the park is a 15 minute walk from our apartment. This picture was taken from about 1/2 a mile into the park. A sign at the entrance said to beware of mountain lions and rattlesnakes. Being a New Yorker, I was very beware.

The Greek Theater is a huge amphitheater inside the park. The door was open so we snuck in to take this picture. Sarah said that this is where "the big bands play ... like Stereolab."

Empty Living

2006-03-02T21:59:00.000-08:00

in terms of items, we have nothing here - yet. our winter coats are piled on the floor of our coat closet. but i like that we agreed where they go. our computers are on a sleeping bag next to us. we've borrowed two bowls two mugs two forks and two wine glasses from julia and sonny - noah's ark style. and this feels depressing at some moments and euphoric at others. our own place! our own empty place. our stuff will come wednesday and we have plans - big plans. which cabinet to put our spices in, which drawer is the most convenient for stamps and string? we have a blank piece of paper on the fridge for 'things we need'. i thought it was a good idea, to make a list. but now at 9pm i'm overwhelmed. we need everything and nothing. we could live like this, but we won't. we will frame, tape, wire, and plant in our new space. tomorrow we'll buy a microwave, a toaster, and a coffee maker - and still we need to pick colors to paint our wall (which we'll have to paint back to white eventually).

we keep saying we're more adult here, we're applying for car loans, learning what an interest rate is, what a re-finance is. new york somehow allowed me to skip over these things, at least my easy life did. but yet the things that are easy here are so so hard in nyc. today we tossed bags of trader joe's groceries (including blueberry juice!?) into our trunk and sailed home, laughing as we got lost, making three right turns instead of the crowded left turn. and then our elevator lifted us two lazy floors to our place. before that, we went for a walk in griffith park, just a 1/2 mile from our place. where we were more concerned with encountering rattlesnakes than a jogger. there were no traffic sounds at all. just a 1/2 mile from here. which is strange b/c as I write this the traffic is streaming by our apt. oh, the contradictions of LA.

Cold and Lonely Nights

2006-02-26T14:54:00.000-08:00

It's freezing right now in New York. Two days ago it was in the 50s, today it's freezing. It's been like that all winter. I believe today is actually as cold as it's been, even colder than during the snowstorm. That makes sense. If it was too cold, the snow would become ice, right? Maybe that's not how it works. I guess there's a lot of snow in the Arctic.

Sarah and I had brunch this morning with our friend Jonathan Hickman at Enid's, one of my favorite restaurants in my neighborhood. A lot of people don't like to go there because it's filled with hipsters, and no one hip in New York likes hipsters. I like eating there because the food is delicious. I can't imagine ever being so affected by the people sitting at other tables that I couldn't enjoy the food in front of me. I avoid places that are too crowded, too loud, or have poor service, but I can't think of anyplace I avoid because it's too trendy. Maybe Hot Topic.

After that, I watched a Stanley Kubrick documentary with my friend Mike Segretto and Sarah went back to Park Slope to say goodbye to her close friends. I was supposed to have dinner with someone else but I can't get in touch with her. As a result, I am now sitting alone in my empty apartment, and, what with the freezing temperatures outside, I will probably remain here for the rest of the night. It seems a fitting way to spend my last evening in New York; all alone and trapped inside. That's pretty much how I spent my first four years here.

I have created an enormous pile of garbage outside in front of the building. For some reason I was afraid, as I was dragging things down to the street, that the garbage police were going to catch me and raise Hell. I don't even know if there are garbage police. It doesn't seem right that someone can just toss a queen-sized mattress on the sidewalk and someone else will happily pick it up and throw it in their garbage truck. Do garbage trucks ever get too full? Those trucks aren't that big. I would think my queen-sized mattress would be a significant part of their haul for the day. As well as my roughly twenty-five bags of garbage. I guess they have big chompers on them for chomping the garbage into digestible bits. The person who figures out how to make a reverse chomper for reassembling that garbage will one day rule the world, I predict.

So that's it. Tomorrow I will be a Californian. I don't know how I feel. I can't call it nervous for certain. Mostly just a little blank. I am ready to see what happens. With great risk comes great reward. In the history of risks, moving to a different city is on a slightly smaller level than conquering Europe or saving a baby from a burning building, so I would be happy to come out of this with a relatively minor reward, like maybe a free Frosty or something.

Signs

2006-02-25T23:38:00.000-08:00

Sarah and I are moving to Los Angeles in two days. Actually, one day now, since it's almost 3:00 on the morning of February 26th. I set up this blog so that we could talk about all the ridiculous and exciting things that are about to happen as we move from our semi-comfortable existence in New York to the brave new world of L.A. I'd love to say that the past month has been crazy, but it's actually been relatively easy. We found an apartment thanks to Sarah's sister Julia and brother-in-law Sonny, who looked at about eight different places before we finally made up our minds and took a spot in Los Feliz. The movers came yesterday and packed our lives up in a giant truck. As I packed my stuff over the last few weeks, I came to realize how little I care about most of the shit I've collected. Pretty much everything I need is going on the plane with me.

I don't know if I necessarily believe in signs, but that doesn't stop me from constantly looking for them. We've had a few strange ones over the last few weeks. Example A is Sarah's ashen egg experience, which I'll have her describe. Example B is that Silver Lake, the town area next to Los Feliz, was written up in Spin two days ago as the "Next Big Scene." This is a few years after Williamsburg, the area right next to Greenpoint, where I live now, got the same write up. It never really happened in Williamsburg, although a lot of skinny kids in thrift store clothing tried their damnedest. Example C is that my CD player mysteriously stopped working the day before I packed it. I don't know if that's a sign or just shitty luck. Everything about New York right now seems to be telling us to leave. We were going to spend our last day together roaming the city, but the L train, our link to civilization, was out. It's freezing cold here right now, my upstairs neighbors suddenly became major clompers, and there's a mouse living in my wall who sounds as though he's rolling a metal ball around at all hours of the night. It is time.

I've said more good-byes than I would have liked over the last week. I sort of like the thought of just disappearing. One day we're here, the next we're gone. I hope I can manage to stay in touch with all the amazing people I've met in New York, but I know how life moves sometimes. Hopefully our friends will read the Spin article and realize they have no choice but to join us. Who doesn't want to be a part of The Next Big Scene?