Flying over the grid cloth of lights and buildings I watch smoggy thick air rising up into pedestrian lungs. Welcome to L.A. It’s a beautiful morning for those in their American sized vehicles, coffee in hand, radio on. Move at a steady pace, changing lanes. Stop, start, stop, start. We pass an in-and-out burger and I taste the air. Maybe that’s the smog I saw as we came into land. Thick in-and-out smoggy goodness. People here aren’t on a health kick, they’re here because they want supersized. I’m already day dreaming my way into the Hollywood walk of fame and I’m not even at the hotel. I want the glitz the glamour the fame and fortune. Los Angeles can give it to me and I can feel it in my bones, calling me, flirting with me saying “just don’t go home, you can’t leave now”
I love this city. It’s all go, go, go! I love the enormity of it. Unlike New York I don’t feel crushed. It’s huge but I have breathing space. I can ride north and south along the coast like they do in Kerouac’s tales. Is the fame and fortune nessecary? I could live out my days here, camera in hand talking to strangers. I could sleep on the beach. If I didn’t make it to Hollywood I could sleep on the beach.
I come to Los Angeles and she talks to me.
Is this the American dream?