Posts tagged Why would you NOT live in Los Angeles?
Posts tagged Why would you NOT live in Los Angeles?
Flying into LA at night is a magical thing. Oh, Los Angeles, I love you.
Update: It turns out I have no idea how many billboards are at the corner of La Cienega and Venice. I counted five but twitter’s debating that there are between five and seven. Did I miss TWO entire billboards? Are there secret billboards, that only true-blue people know about, like with the menu at In-n-Out? Were the two secret Captain America billboards hidden behind the other five Captain America billboards, like camouflage? Or did the five billboards daze people and there are PHANTOM Captain America billboards that people are seeing, like an MC Escher-style optical illusion or one of those paintings at the mall, Portrait of a Headache, whatever you call those things? I mean— I don’t really believe the guy saying he saw seven— seven’s beyond the pale, and I don’t know— he’s just not being specific enough (maybe he’s not even talking about La Cienega and Venice, though— let that blow your mind). Six makes more sense than five though— five just made it seem like something occult was going on, and the Billboard People probably have people who keep an eye out for that kind of thing to make sure that doesn’t happen, billboard warlocks, or men in black helicopter types, I don’t even know who. The Six Lobby— this lady went from three billboards to six— they got her to double her billboard count! The Six Lobby seems to be winning, but… how did I miscount? Where was the sixth one? Was it a ghost sixth billboard like in that movie The Sixth Man, where the ghost of Kadeem Hardison taught a basketball player how to live or…? Probably. It’s probably exactly like that. Well I for one am ready to receive the Mystery Captain America Billboard’s secrets. I’m ready to learn how to live! (Fart noise)
EDITED TO ADD: oh wait, I figured it out— the other set of footprints on the beach was when the sixth Captain America billboard carried ME…
After living in Los Angeles for 3800 days, these are my stories. Let me show you around.
LA I’m Yours: “[Designer Jake Kahana] moved to Los Angeles on August 13, 2003 and, a little over ten years later, he moved away. To share his favorite moments of living in Los Angeles and to visually scrapbook his time, he created an interesting, fun interactive website called 3800 Days In Los Angeles. The website is a scrolling flipbook of images that literally drive from Kahana’s first apartment all the way to the airport, telling both his story of being an Angeleno and his favorite things to do while in town. The city for him was a place where he came of age, arriving for school and staying for work and finding himself amidst it all.”
With a baby on the way, L.A. couple in their 30s fret about finances. - LA Times
"The catalyst for the Talbots’ current concern is the coming baby. Getting Marya and the baby on his health insurance policy during the next open enrollment, in June, will raise his premium from $360 a month to more than $1,200 a month.
"Dash makes about $58,500, including a $600 annual stipend for his health insurance. Marya [a fashion stylist] has averaged about $25,000 a year."
let me help out here, since a certified financial planner and a LA Times reporter failed to point out the obvious:
Marya, you’re gonna have to get a real job. $25,000 a year is just not gonna cut it.
“The two married five years ago and moved to Los Angeles to lower their living expenses." !!!
Hats off to the Awl and Eric Spiegelman for a review of the good, the bad and the awful in L.A. parking.
This post is like porn to me. I have dreamed of doing a blog that dissects parking garages in Los Angeles.
Cardiff in Culver City isn’t even the best parking lot in that neighborhood though— that’s the busiest one. You hit the wrong hour— you got movie traffic; plus the foot traffic around there once you do manage to get out? It’s Culver— there’s easier living a block in either direction. (I always get pretty tweaked when the valets are out in that neighborhood— so unnecessary).
And a C- seems pretty high for Structure 4 in Santa Monica, though the description of it as having some kind of occult architecture are pretty accurate— I’ve tried to draw it in my mind before and it’s defeated me. There’s something about the staircases in that garage that creep me out— I just feel like every bit of it’s been urinated on by local chuds or whoever, even though i’ve never actually seen it getting urinated on…? It smells wrong; it just feels wrong. You can take the elevator but I mean, the elevator at Structure 4…? Who has that kind of time in their life? I have years I want to spend being alive, instead. I don’t have the same “maybe I’ll never see you again, car…? maybe this is where we say our goodbyes" feeling that I get every once in a while at a Century City Mall (thanks to some life experiences, there), granted, but I’d still rank it in the D range.
I’ve never been there but I still shivered when I read “Trader Joe’s, Silver Lake.” Is that what it’s like to watch one of those Paranormal Activity movies? Probably.
I can never quite put into words how incredible life in LA is, but the feeling I got watching this video was overwhelming - love this beautiful city I’ve called home for the last 7.5 years!
Photograph of the Hollywood Palladium in about 1946.
Will I achieve my dreams of becoming what I’m passionate about which is being a Singer/Model/Dancer/Actor even tho I’m completely unsupported by my parents both morally and financially, because their totally against it should i give up is it worth carrying on and pursuing this dream or should i just give up.
You are never going to be a professional singer/model/dancer/actor. That’s not even a thing. In fact, you will never achieve your dreams if all they are is ridiculous fantasies.
You are not passionate about singing, modeling, dancing, and acting. You’re just a silly child who’s fascinated by the idea of fame, and your parents are right not to provide moral or financial support for your self-absorbed fantasy of becoming a singer/model/dancer/actor.
I’m sure your parents are intimately aware of what was obvious to me after reading what you consider to be just one sentence: you’re an idiot. They’re not going to tell you you’re an idiot because they love you, but to their credit, they’re also not going to encourage your idiocy.
Let me tell you a secret I’ve learned from all my years in Los Angeles. People who use slashes in their self-bestowed titles are losers. Always. Every time, with no exceptions. The more slashes, the bigger the loser. The most common form is model/actress, and they’re bad enough, but when you start adding singer/dancer/whatever into the mix, shit starts getting insufferable.
Do not become one of these sad, pathetic losers.
If you have a dream (not a fantasy) of becoming a performer of some kind, and that dream is backed up with a shit-ton of talent and a burning passion to dedicate your life to perfecting your craft, and you’re willing to spend years broke and hungry while paying your dues, grinding your way through mountains of bullshit, avoiding all the pitfalls and predators, getting your ass kicked repeatedly to maybe one day have enough blind fucking luck to get a shot at earning a meager living doing what you love, then there’s a outside chance that it might be possible for you to become a singer. Or maybe an actor. Probably not a dancer, and definitely not a model.
Point is, you can pick one. Just one. Get rid of the slashes. No one will ever take you seriously until you do, and even then, whatever stupid fame-whore dream you have is almost definitely not going to come true, even if you devote your life to it.
Oh, and if any of this seems harsh, it only further proves my point that you’re a silly child who doesn’t know the difference between a dream and a fantasy.
I’d tell you good luck, but I really don’t think it’s gonna matter.
The story of the Melrose French bistrot that hosted celebrities and criminals on its Astro-turfed patio.
Turns out all the stories about early ’80s L.A. are true. And then some.
“Garish, conspicuous consumption was the order of the day, with Terrail ringing a bell for the most outlandishly dressed female patron. Robin Leach himself was a regular at Ma Maison, and recalled getting busy with a lady friend at a corner table while the impeccable staff discreetly hid them from view, and then supplied a post-coital dessert." …?
Vote!! This is the final round!
Man, I really, genuinely didn’t see this coming as the final match-up. I couldn’t have guessed that. I thought Roscoe’s had this; I don’t even know which way is up anymore. A donut with a strawberry on it is my Keyser Soze— I just thought it was a wimp with a gimpy leg, this whole time (aka Verbal Kint)(Spoiler warning). I don’t really crush on donuts that hard, so that thing wasn’t even on my radar as being a thing people even cared that strongly about. Plus, I feel like I’ve heard years of people from out of town, whining about Dunkin Donuts not being in town, or some place like that. (Which is a thing maybe people shouldn’t do, but. People would whine about that Hatey-hate chicken place not being around back when, but then we got that and it was, like, “Oh by the way, this chicken sandwich hates people" M. Night Shyamalan twist ending, so I don’t know— I think there’s a lesson there. Once in a blue moon, I’d like some Skyline Chili but I don’t bother no one about it because other food still exists and I just eat that…).
I don’t know— I’ve been in LA since I still felt like a young person, and I don’t really have much claim to being one anymore, but I still feel like I just got here, basically constantly. That’s the bracket I’m in.