I visited Los Angeles for the first time in February of 2001. I’d passed on previous opportunities to visit because I assumed it would be a place I’d hate. The only things I knew about it was there were lots of earthquakes and fake people. I didn’t work in the movies, had no interest in plastic surgery or fancy cars and generally didn’t think there was anything I’d find interesting there, so why bother? I eventually decided to check it out not for any grand reason other than that it was really cold in Chicago. I’d just carried my suitcase 5 blocks through the freezing ice and snow to get home after visiting family during holidays in sunny Florida, and couldn’t come up with a reason to say no when an LA based artist friend of mine proposed a visit. Fuck it, why not, right?
I expected to go, enjoy a few days of warmth and see some friends, check another city off the list, then go home having all my preconceptions confirmed. I was wrong.
It felt electric. Almost immediately I realized my assumptions were misplaced. This was not all glam and glitter, these were normal people doing normal shit. But there was a buzz that I’d never felt before and it didn’t take me long to figure out why. College aside, which is transient by design, everywhere I’d ever lived the majority of the people who lived there were also from there. They were used to it and comfortable with it, and had accepted their place in it. Los Angeles was the opposite. Most of the people I encountered moved there from somewhere else, driven by aspirations, chasing some kind of dream. At the time I joked that it might be a dumb and completely unrealistic dream, but it was a dream nonetheless. And that hope and optimism could be felt everywhere. People were trying to do things. On top of that, there was this feeling that everyone you met was a potential collaborator rather than what I was used to, which was competition at every turn. It was intoxicating, I’d never felt anything like it and immediately knew I needed to live there.
I went back to Chicago, informed my boss of my decision, made arrangements and 3 months later I was living in LA.
I spent 16 years in LA, almost 3x as long as I’ve lived anywhere else in my life. When I eventually left, I left not to get away, but because I realized that commuting back and forth to Tokyo every month was ridiculous and something had to change - however no matter how far away I was, Los Angeles stayed planted in my heart. It was the first place I ever lived that felt like home. It wasn’t painless and the city certainly dished out its fair share of drama but I loved it like no other and it became a part of me. Metaphorically, but also physically as evident by the number of Los Angeles tattoos I got over the years. Los Angeles is like no other, everyone says that about every city and I’m sure it’s true to some extent but one of the reasons New Yorkers don’t like LA is because they expect all cities to work like NY - and most do - but LA explicitly doesn’t. It’s it’s own thing, and it’s proud of that. Something that became evident to me living there is that people in LA are actually fake, just like they are everywhere else, but only LA embraces that, celebrates it, and is up front about it. It’s a costume, all part of a show, which can be taken off without fear or concern of being found out, and this reveals the deepest vulnerability and humanity I’ve ever experienced. Imagine my surprise, the fake people I was worried about were actually the realest.
Another thing is that LA knows how everyone else feels about it. LA knows everyone thinks it’s just earthquakes and fake people, just glam and glitter. And it doesn’t care. It’s over trying to convince everyone it’s something else, and its just confident it being what it is. LA gets shit done, because shit needs to get done and no one else is going to do it. Whatever you want, whatever you need, whatever idea you have, LA can provide a way to do it and excited collaborators to help you out with it. Every project or company I started there, and there are many, started out with a simple “anyone want to riff on this with me?” post somewhere, or “oh! I know someone you need to meet!” It was beautiful.
And that’s just the people. The landscape, the architecture, the food, the history, the culture… there are so many things, all of the things, and I could essays about all of them. On a normal day anyway, but today is not a normal day.
I’ve been trying to write this for over a week and keep getting stumped because I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling, watching this place that I love burn and not being there to do anything. Not that I could if I was of course, which complicates it further. Balancing the knowledge that we all knew this might happen eventually, with the disbelief that it actually happened. I have friends who have lost everything and I want to hug them. I have friends who didn’t but their fear and stress is just as real and I want to be there for them, just to do something. But I’m far away, speechless and helpless. Just watching, and hoping for the best for whatever is left, and whatever comes next. We haven’t even begun to realize what was lost, or what impact that will have on the future.
To my friends still there, the survivors, I love you all. I miss you. I’m thinking about you nonstop, and can’t wait to see you again soon and deliver these promised hugs. Stay strong.
