We left the city like nobody we knew had, in the rain. Winter in southern California had been doing its best Isle of Wight impression, dumping rain and dampness on people who are paying for neither of those things. The river willows, which usually squeezed out of tangled, trash-strewn dirt, were bent by rushing water. Our building, built in the late 1980s, was situated close to nature that we’d never seen lusher or lovelier. It was also drenched, which changed a few of our decisions on what to leave and what to treat like an heirloom.
Two months earlier, after we’d decided to move in together to a single place nearer to work, I’d felt awful about it. That feeling faded to nothing in the last week, which I took off from work. We were never planning to live in that apartment forever. We knew we’d come back to city, and we’d tried nearly everything either of us had wanted to when we moved there — her in 2018, me in 2021. She put together our final date night in the old place, Largo at the Coronet, the first time we’d gone to that venue since it relaxed the masks-on policy during shows. We saw Caitlin Reilly, a TikTok comedian with a few hyper-specific impressions, two of which appeared onstage. The first was her “cousin Stacy,” a guileless Disney Adult, and the second was a frustrated Burbank acting coach who made audience members read from her psychotic revenge play. Also on the bill: A stand-up in fashionable wide-leg pants who pretended that she’d been possessed by Satan and rapped about it, and a very tall comic who described her fairy tale wedding to a “short king.”
Not the best show I’d seen here, not exactly my type of comedy, but I got it — and it was new. I’d stared to visit L.A. in 2006, but didn’t fall in love with it until 2013, a short trip at the start of a vacation, when my friend Josh met me at Counterpoint Books and walked us to the UCB theater and got us seats for a show with Kumail Nanjiani and Matt Walsh (not that one). We went from there to meet Josh’s roommate Nick, who was on the list for a show hosted by Prince Poppycock, a singing dandy he (Nick) had lived with before Josh, and who mercilessly made fun of me for wearing a plaid shirt.
Does that sound fun? I should put it in context: In 2013, I had just signed a contract for a book I’d always wanted to write, and felt a little burned out covering politics, a feeling I now know to expect every few months and ignore. (Not every day at a good job is going to be exciting; some news cycles are going to be a chore to break news in.) Paying a movie-ticket price to see good comedy and weird music felt like a dream.
It never stopped feeling that way. So it helped that we spent most of the week moving, filling most of a storage block that’s on its way across America. I’d gone six years without truly moving; my stuff at the L.A. place was meant to last a few weeks at a time, not replace everything from the D.C. home. Most of what we had to move was hers, and it was tougher for me than her to get rid of some of it. I felt particularly gloomy about two white chairs, pure wood with flaky white paint, that we’d gotten for a steal from an Australian retiree down the street. Days of rain after a month of rain had worn the paint down, so we left it behind. I got wistful, and she didn’t. That made everything easier, as our joints wore down and our disagreements got sillier. This was the week I learned that she doesn’t share my conviction that any food in the fridge must be eaten before it’s expired and it’s amoral to buy more when an item’s about to expire. That’s survivable. I’m right, but we can work together.
I’ve enjoyed keeping this diary going even in the weeks where not much happens. Back to work this week, unpacking boxes and continuing my 400-book purge after deadline.
The Best Thing I Read: You saw the part about the move, right? I finished a few short books that looked mediocre enough to give away, and they were — Warren Ellis’s strange reboot of “Supreme,” the middling lost civilization sci-fi “Undiscovered Country,” Lynn Penn’s history of the Chinese diaspora. I also read, finally, a yellowing Penguin Classic edition of “The End of the Affair,” a Graham Greene novel I’d picked up to fill out my stack in a Buy Two Get One Sale at (I think) Waterstone’s.
This wasn’t a long or complicated novel, and I was loosely familiar with the story. When I finally dug in, Maurice’s discursive storytelling reminded me of the way I think. “If this book of mine fails to take a straight course, it is because I am lost in a strange region: I have no map.” I’m glad I didn’t read it when I was younger and the motivations might have made less sense.
The Best Thing I Heard: “It’s Insanity,” playing on an Uber driver’s radio as we traveled up Riverside from our place to the bar where we’d end up playing Pac-Man with friends. I never seek out this kind of EDM, have no idea where to start, and only hear it in two formats — cab ride or movie soundtrack. I don’t know what the artists look like, who they’re dating, what country they’re from, what their influences are.
The Best Thing I Saw: Look, this year’s Oscar broadcast is in the hunt. The fiancé and I saw “Everything Everywhere All at Once” by her request, because she’d liked the trailer so much. I loved it instantly, right in the mood for something that meditated on unlived lives, right in the demographic that will laugh when three people battle to jump on top of a butt plug. She loved it at a deeper level, something about her own family history that I don’t think needs sharing in my weekly stream-of-consciousness ego dump. What matters: She stayed obsessed with it and wept watching the movie’s directors and stars pick up awards, all of them powering our nostalgia engines.
I enjoyed it, too. None of the cases against the movie convinced me, and all came from people more uncomfortable than me with schmaltz and sincerity. But the best thing I sat down and watched was probably “Hud.”
There was a ton of great stuff in this entry man. Guess the time off really helped fill this out.
The acting coach bit sounded kinda genius? At least the way you described it reminded me of the jason mantzoukas episode of community which was simple but well executed.
I liked how you described falling in love with LA. While NYC very much lives up to its "city never sleeps vibe", easy access to creatives honing their craft has a a "you never know what you'll find next" vibe to it. If variety is the spice of life looks like you've landed in quite the spice mine.
Actually just picked up two Warren ellis thunderbolts comics for a buck the other day, great reads. Didn't know he tried his hand at that Rob liefeld character and definitely have my interest piqued there. Most Supreme comics I read were full of schlock so it'd be nice to see what ellis did. The graham Greene book sounds good.
I like the song recs because I know at the very least I'll give it a listen. Competitive pac man is rough, and losing at that always feels worse than at other games.
Good stuff on the Oscar's which I don't respect anymore for not nominating tenet. Like you though I'm probably the right demo for EEAAO. Also the first paragraph was nice, and you are right about the fridge. Hope the politics coverage doesn't burn you out too bad this week.