UnwashedMass
Shared on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 18:04Find a spot to pimp, and I’ma Kid Rock it up and down your block.
Cause chaos, rock like Amadeus; find West Coast p+**y for my Detroit playas.
I’m not from Detroit, and I paraphrase, but the man has seriously hit my Los Angeles vibe. I find myself in the situation where I don’t fit anywhere but this crazy ass town. Hollywood and Highland, Heidi Fleiss, Rampart, Emo guys crying on Sunset, long haired hippy girls selling hemp and play-doh bead necklaces on the Venice Strand. Muscle Beach, Malibu coffee houses, lots of blonde hair. New Beemers crammed with shrieking 17-year-old trust fund babies, cowboys in dress boots that have all the horseshit on the inside. Muscular youths too pretty to be straight, militant lesbians with a “fuck you” in their eye solidly attached to their penis envy; all the pitiful Asian kids so uncomfortable with being geek-chic. Dance studios, dance clubs, Rohypnol, the 405 crawl, the greenlight raceway of Sepulveda, the absolute petri dish of LAX. Fistfights between hipsters, Chuck T’s in every derivation and coloration, skater boys with scabbed elbows, tweeker girls with scabbed knees and rotten teeth. Terrible drivers, Hi-Po on motorbikes, LAPD in SWAT gear, masked bank robbers in Hyundai getaway mobiles. Carne asada, pico de gallo, Franciscan Missions; Doggie day spas; hazy days with no skyline; days after the rain where you can see the Pacific twenty miles away. Fontucky as your back yard, the Bigfoot Lounge in Los Feliz, mispronounced Spanish names, the Palladium, the Greek Theatre, Griffith Observatory, the Getty, the carefully masked slums of middle class hell where the crank is cooked. Mariachi on a Sunday afternoon, Metallica on Saturdays, pop streaming from the open top of convertibles VW Beetles packed with beach going suburbanites, porn on DVD players in the back of Escalades going down Sunset. Predatory glances in Linen and Things, casual conversation across the bar, grifters in hotel lobbies. Safe haven of your hood, trust in your neighbor because you can’t trust the overworked 5-O; illegal handguns and sawed off shotguns; Girl Scouts selling cookies. Blood in the street; blood in house; death on the 10 lane superfreeway; WiFi on every corner. Birth of one thousand children a day; hope of a new life, sandcastles on the beach, the perfect tube at Dana Point.
Smiles of strangers; smelly old dudes on the Metro; street musicians, and me.
It’s a double edged blade. I hate this town, and I really think it hates me. It’s like a relationship with an overbearing, abusive and drunken parent. Always the threat of violence, but glimpses of heart and love that will make you realize why you stay.
Hope you have a great week. Keep looking for the beauty, find the heart, spend the time to make sure you love yourself.
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Comments
Submitted by Devonsangel on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 18:35
Submitted by UnwashedMass on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 18:38
Submitted by DeltaT on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 19:08
Submitted by NoGame22 on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 19:24
Submitted by OldManRiver48 on Mon, 03/19/2007 - 19:51
Submitted by rockcrawler69 on Mon, 03/26/2007 - 22:21