My friend just showed me this post he wrote on my facebook wall almost two and a half years ago. He was staying at The Viceroy in Santa Monica for a TV shoot. I’m fairly positive he was drunk off $28 Client Dime Martinis when he declared his desire to jump coasts. And I probably wrote him back while sitting at my desk in Manhattan – overworked and underpaid.
In my response, I guess I’m trying to convince him that NYC is better than LA? But man, do I do a terrible job. Dreadful. I practically convince him to eventually move to LA. Which he did. Last week.
Reading my response today, two and a half years later, I think I just convinced myself to move to LA. And I’m writing this while laying in my bed in my apartment in Costa Rica, so at this point I literally have no idea what the fuck is going on. But I wanna go to LA YESTERDAY.
Jed! Don’t give into its powers. You aren’t thinking clearly – just look around you – your room has plates on the wall and someone cleans it for you everyday. And its FREE!l AND SO ARE YOUR LAVISH MEALS! That’s not REALITY!
In reality, LA is traffic. It’s a DUI driving home from the bar. It’s being spread out all over the city, thus creating a lonely feeling when one realizes they may be 8 miles from their friends but they’re actually 2 hours away from seeing any of them. It’s never being thin enough. It’s wanting to work in the entertainment industry just like everyone else. It’s never getting in anywhere cool because you don’t have fake boobs (or the male equivalent. Fake penis I guess?). It’s everyone dressed the same – like, LITERALLY dressed the same. It’s SPY sunglasses, UGGS, and Ed Hardy hats. It’s less American Apparel and more bedazzled trucker hat.
It’s 70º year round. It’s cheaper rent. It’s the freedom to sing loudly during your commute. It’s a cart full of groceries wheeled out and put in your car. It’s a house, not an apartment. It’s screenwriting opportunities galore. Or at the very least, it’s competition that pushes you. It’s UCB LA. It’s running along the beach. It’s sneaking into the viceroy to take a shit in their lobby bathroom – and letting them give you that free bottle of water, thinking you’re a guest who just got back from a run. It’s Joni’s coffee on a saturday morning (go there it’s not far from you). It’s shoppppping. Cheap manicures and pedicures. Sunny streets. Flourishing lawns. It’s not NYC.
I know how you feel, and I hope now you understand why I was bummed when I got here. It was nothing personal, I promise you. You’re my saving grace here.
And for what it’s worth, after a while you start realizing the things that make NYC fantastic.
Keep having fun. Hopefully we’ll talk on ichat today. But I wanna hear how it’s going when you have time.