The decent into LA was like landing on a different planet. Which is pretty fitting seeing as it’s my staging area for Burning man, which for all practical purposes is in fact another planet. I mean, what else do you call thirty three thousand costumed lunatics running around on an alkali flat in the middle of nowhere?
My trip began with typical Pax Industria fashion. I woke up bright and early, at 6:20 EST…. for a 6:45 flight out. Doh. Once I called united and got myself put onto another flight, and actually got ON the flight this time.. all was well with the world. As we flew, the pilot would announce landmarks to the cabin; “If you look to your right, you’ll see the grand canyon!” . So there I am, straining my neck at 20000 feet, gazing down at one of the marvels of the country… from miles and miles away. You know what? Still worth it. Even from the cabin of a cramped airliner, which I was only on because I’m a noodle head and was late as hell. I was still moved by he majesty and sheer beauty of the Grand Canyon. Fuck me Gently its amazing.
Landing in LA, was just as amazing. Imagine if you will, you plane approaching a sprawling metropolis, 20 minutes into the future, that’s been sunk, like Atlantis in a layer of clay. I looked down and saw a city that should have been beautiful and green. Bright yellow billboards, neon green palm trees, explosions of color that were city parks, and man made rainbows of construction, all muted by the hazy thick soup of the L.A. smog. I felt like my plane was slowly descending into a aerosol haze of human excrement, and I strained in my seat to get away as we landed. The deeper I got into the murk, the more color bled back into the tiny picture displaying on the tiny airline window. Knowing that the more color I saw, the more muted I was becoming the more the L.A. smog was surrounding me. In a lot of way, landing in L.A. is a lot like landing in Honolulu, the same low structures, the same green palm trees. The same newness to the city’s architecture but the smog gives it a certain wrongness, a patina of decay. It’s like landing in one of those “Olde Tyme Photo’s” I couldn’t help but think. “We did this”
Ajax picked me up from the airport like an angel of mook. There we were, to northern thugs, in a black convertible, top down, shades on, puppy dog in the back seat, zipping around the worlds largest dirtiest movie set. Suddenly, everything was all right. Because, where we come from, “Mean and funny… Still Funny” I couldn’t help laughing as L.A opened up like a flower for us. We ran around eating the best burgers on gods green earth, watching the cast and crew scurry around all to a dance that seemed very very important. So important that they don’t have time to talk to a Plebian like you. I couldn’t help but laugh at the chaos of it all. We walked Venice beach with the lovely and talented
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nisaa ate ice cream (in my case got a farmers er… sunburn) watched the puffy muscle heads lifting heavy weights under the hot cali sun, and watched people hurl themselves at the walk on Venice beach. The attitude on Venice beach is a weird combination of; “It’s terribly important that I get somewhere, very slowly and without acknowledging you at ALL” it’s like trying to traverse a nightclub where everyone WANTS to be dancing to music that’s like 180 beats per minute but needs you to realize the they are SO important that they can’t be bothered to dance to the beat. As the day progressed, we went shopsy’s and started what is clearly the first act on either a) one of the worlds silliest buddy flicks or b) the opening to some movie that ends up with me and Ajax killing and eating the “burners” that we are driving out to the event, as something has gone horribly wrong, we get attacked by Carrot cake wielding Hungarian terrorists in search of a three way and needed to make our escape with daring and punish! (Clearly sans carrot cake, hence the need to eat the drug and alcohol marinated Burners)
Indecently, I did in fact have the second best Carrot Cake I’ve ever had last night, the first being Chocolate Sex cake, which. Well, when Ajax thinks something better then sex, I’m just saying it’s GOOD.
Finally, one of my last real cognizant memories of last night, was driving past downtown Los Angeles and seeing a dance of lights. As near as I can tell, L.A. tries to recreate the Belagio Casinos’ water show with spotlights on a nightly basis. Beams of white light speared the night sky, obliterating the stars, in an effort to draw you into it’s seductive bosom. It was beautiful to feel the cold night air rush by me, and see a dance of light. I liked the idea that a city, covered in it’s own shit, was still dancing. Maybe L.A., at some level is trying to shake the shit off it’s shoes too…
In a weird way, L.A. made me lonely, and starved for touch. The more I filled myself with the lights and noise of the land of broken misfit toys, the more I wanted fingers on my neck, and a sword in my hand. I wanted to feel a hand placed over my heart, I wanted to feel the pulse of my Yin, so badly it ached. Where ever you are Yin, take a deep breath for me.
happy
