You Live Where?

When I first moved to Los Angeles I had a small breakdown. Laying face-down on a bed in the San Fernando Valley, walls painted a specific shade of green that always made it feel like I was drowning in a giant bowl of guacamole, I cried just a bit for the Northwest. To be more specific, I was laying face down crying just a bit for the Northwest in Sun Valley, California.. a desolate, lonesome place located between the northern reaches of Burbank and the southern crawl of Pacoima. Cradled in the armpit of I-5 and the 170. Sun Valley is most famous for having the highest concentration of wrecking yards west of the Mississippi. There's an asphalt factory too.


Vulcan Materials! Thank you, magic google image-search oracle.

Things changed. I found the red line train to downtown -- beautiful, crumbling, fucked up and strange downtown Los Angeles (populated with the most alarming army of drug addicts I'd ever encountered, night-of-the-living-dead-style). Spent a lot of time there. Pershing Square stop, three block walk (sometimes in combat mode - arms across chest, no eye contact) to Spring St, up to the 11th floor of the old bank building. Paint paint paint, run over to the magical Central Library, free day at MOCA, weird coffee/poetry place in the alley, discount electronics everywhere. My mom got most excited about the stores that sold 'pimp suits' when she visited.


And MY FRIENDS! Legions of quality folks, doing interesting things, and really going for it. Sam, for instance! Living out in Pomona with one of my favorite people, the subversive and talented Tara Tavi (lady of the chinese hammer dulcimer). Luckily, a lot of these friends take time to visit Kamilche, and Sam will be here soon on his book tour. I read on his blog that he missed out on some casino time recently. We can change that. See you soon Sam, and I promise not to door-ding your car this time!

ed. note: much gratitude to Dave Stone for making the move possible. I ended up loving the Valley in so many ways.