When I first moved to L.A., I had a hard time “finding” it. I just drove around in my Volkswagen, looking. Where is everyone? And what are they doing? Am I in L.A. now? How about now? Why doesn’t it feel like it? What I didn’t understand is that L.A. isn’t a place. It’s trying to remember where you parked your car in a series of identical, but different, parking garages. Am I on level M3 or P7 or C16? The answer is yes.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, somewhere else, everyone was in L.A., together, doing something really great that I didn’t know about. So I did what was natural. I got suspicious and resentful of all the people I knew. Where were you last night? But actually.
