la introduction
23 July 2007
I am writing to you from Los Angeles. I arrived on Saturday evening. I will be here for three weeks, until August 12. However, there is a good chance I may never leave.
This morning, I woke up at 5:30am, quickly showered and dressed, picked up my rental car from the valet (a sweet-ass seafoam green Ford Taurus), and drove to work. I have never felt more like an adult than I did this morning, waking up while it’s still dark and driving, actually driving to work. I am used to walking past dozens of 300 year old Chinese people to my local subway stop, where I will get on a train and sit for a few minutes watching a homeless man masturbate, before arriving at work. But today, I drove. I sat in a car, rolled down the windows, turned on the radio and drove. Like an adult. Like a real, live adult.
More than an adult, I felt like a man. A man who rises before dawn, a man who is the first at his office, a man who works hard to provide for his woman and her children (because he is sterile and she was briefly entangled with a slow but highly fertile man named Ron before they met). This is how I felt as I drove along Wilshire Boulevard in the pre-dawn light, the mist leftover from an overnight shower coating the buildings, sidewalks, and parked cars. And I was hard. Totally, fully erect. Bonerized.
I all but disappeared from public life at the end of last week, as I hastily prepared for this trip. First, there was the matter of tying up my work responsibilities. While out here, I am continuing to work for my firm (we have an office in LA). The catch is that I’m working NY hours, which, in local LA time, is 6:30am until 2:30pm. And while I imagine it will be nice to get out of work at 2:30pm, it may be difficult for me to consistently get up at 5:30am in the morning. While this morning’s drive was glorious, empowering, and disturbing sexual, I am fairly certain that the allure of waking up early, driving to work, and masturbating in your parked car will wear off. Well, maybe not that last one.
Secondly, I needed to tend to the other affairs that I will be pursuing while I’m out here. I can’t really get into it, but “other affairs” mean more than just lying in a robe in my hotel room, drinking wine, and watching prison documentaries on MSNBC Investigates. Not much more, but more. A little more.
But now I’m here, enjoying the weather (despite the fog of today and Saturday, yesterday was about a 14 on a scale of one to ten), the scene (drinks with my buddies Dan and Donnie on Saturday night, staring at fake boobies), and the food (two double-doubles animal style at In-N-Out since my arrival on Saturday, with plenty more on the horizon). I’m staying at a hotel in Westwood right now, but soon will be moving to a buddy’s place in Santa Monica (he’ll be out of town for a while and so he graciously offered me his room; thankfully, since Uncle Jason ain’t made of money and 23 nights at a hotel is a little out of his range).
But friends, this is a test. I’ve always loved LA, but every time I’ve visited I’ve always felt the same way: it’s great, but I could never live there. For the next three weeks, I’ll be living here – working full time, having meetings after work, driving the city and surrounding area, hitting up the bars and restaurants. I will be very (VERY) busy and will spend my time at work drinking red bull and will probably have to do cocaine while driving, but in the bigger picture, I’m not rushed. This is not my standard LA trip, four days of visiting friends, getting bombed non-stop, then shipping out. I have time, three whole weeks, even if I will be busy during these three weeks.
Last week, I turned 28. There are certain things you can’t do when you get older, either because they’re no longer cute (saying “It’s been awhile” after prematurely ejaculating is just not cutting it anymore) or because at some point, you have to concede that you are an adult (buying pot in bulk and selling it to your friends for video games is ok in college, but not near 30). And while I’m not saying I’m too old to move, I will like the window is closing for me to pack up everything, say “Fuck it” and move out of my comfort zone and across the country.
Simply put, this is an audition for Los Angeles. These next few weeks will determine a number of things, but mainly I will find out if my infatuation with this city is merely that – an infatuation that can be sated by the occasion visit – or if it’s something deeper.
But only time will tell. All I can do is welcome this experience with open arms, take full advantage of my situation, eat a shit ton of burgers and Mexican food, and make sure that every time I bring myself to climax in my rental car I make sure to clean up. Because they really rake you over the coals for ejaculate removal. Been there before and don’t want to go back, thank you very much.
This morning, I woke up at 5:30am, quickly showered and dressed, picked up my rental car from the valet (a sweet-ass seafoam green Ford Taurus), and drove to work. I have never felt more like an adult than I did this morning, waking up while it’s still dark and driving, actually driving to work. I am used to walking past dozens of 300 year old Chinese people to my local subway stop, where I will get on a train and sit for a few minutes watching a homeless man masturbate, before arriving at work. But today, I drove. I sat in a car, rolled down the windows, turned on the radio and drove. Like an adult. Like a real, live adult.
More than an adult, I felt like a man. A man who rises before dawn, a man who is the first at his office, a man who works hard to provide for his woman and her children (because he is sterile and she was briefly entangled with a slow but highly fertile man named Ron before they met). This is how I felt as I drove along Wilshire Boulevard in the pre-dawn light, the mist leftover from an overnight shower coating the buildings, sidewalks, and parked cars. And I was hard. Totally, fully erect. Bonerized.
I all but disappeared from public life at the end of last week, as I hastily prepared for this trip. First, there was the matter of tying up my work responsibilities. While out here, I am continuing to work for my firm (we have an office in LA). The catch is that I’m working NY hours, which, in local LA time, is 6:30am until 2:30pm. And while I imagine it will be nice to get out of work at 2:30pm, it may be difficult for me to consistently get up at 5:30am in the morning. While this morning’s drive was glorious, empowering, and disturbing sexual, I am fairly certain that the allure of waking up early, driving to work, and masturbating in your parked car will wear off. Well, maybe not that last one.
Secondly, I needed to tend to the other affairs that I will be pursuing while I’m out here. I can’t really get into it, but “other affairs” mean more than just lying in a robe in my hotel room, drinking wine, and watching prison documentaries on MSNBC Investigates. Not much more, but more. A little more.
But now I’m here, enjoying the weather (despite the fog of today and Saturday, yesterday was about a 14 on a scale of one to ten), the scene (drinks with my buddies Dan and Donnie on Saturday night, staring at fake boobies), and the food (two double-doubles animal style at In-N-Out since my arrival on Saturday, with plenty more on the horizon). I’m staying at a hotel in Westwood right now, but soon will be moving to a buddy’s place in Santa Monica (he’ll be out of town for a while and so he graciously offered me his room; thankfully, since Uncle Jason ain’t made of money and 23 nights at a hotel is a little out of his range).
But friends, this is a test. I’ve always loved LA, but every time I’ve visited I’ve always felt the same way: it’s great, but I could never live there. For the next three weeks, I’ll be living here – working full time, having meetings after work, driving the city and surrounding area, hitting up the bars and restaurants. I will be very (VERY) busy and will spend my time at work drinking red bull and will probably have to do cocaine while driving, but in the bigger picture, I’m not rushed. This is not my standard LA trip, four days of visiting friends, getting bombed non-stop, then shipping out. I have time, three whole weeks, even if I will be busy during these three weeks.
Last week, I turned 28. There are certain things you can’t do when you get older, either because they’re no longer cute (saying “It’s been awhile” after prematurely ejaculating is just not cutting it anymore) or because at some point, you have to concede that you are an adult (buying pot in bulk and selling it to your friends for video games is ok in college, but not near 30). And while I’m not saying I’m too old to move, I will like the window is closing for me to pack up everything, say “Fuck it” and move out of my comfort zone and across the country.
Simply put, this is an audition for Los Angeles. These next few weeks will determine a number of things, but mainly I will find out if my infatuation with this city is merely that – an infatuation that can be sated by the occasion visit – or if it’s something deeper.
But only time will tell. All I can do is welcome this experience with open arms, take full advantage of my situation, eat a shit ton of burgers and Mexican food, and make sure that every time I bring myself to climax in my rental car I make sure to clean up. Because they really rake you over the coals for ejaculate removal. Been there before and don’t want to go back, thank you very much.
