August 29, 2008

“In Los Angeles you are conscious only of the present tense; there is no flavor of the past, no feeling of the future.” – Kate Bell

I live in the most insulted city in the world. As George Sessions Perry termed it, it’s “New York in purple shorts with its brains knocked out.” The legend is that Los Angeles is a hastily thrown together smear of pink and blue stucco dollhouses inhabited by long-haired men and short-haired women, clairvoyants, swamis, herb doctors, chiropractors, nature lovers depraved motion-picture actors, psychopathic murderers, painless dentists, bond salesmen, gunmen, winos, radio announcers, and people who open every conversation with: “what’s up?” It is here I was born and here I am stuck, doomed to write about every hilarious and unconventional thing to come through the screwiana  that raised me. welcome.

“The city is a conglomerate of disparate fragments. Even the bad taste seems to be fake bad taste.” -Paul Schrecker

Inspired by and partially-taken rant from “My L.A.” by Matt Weinstock copyright Current Books, Inc. 1948

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