I choose not to say goodbye to LA cause that’s cheesey and when you loose somebody close to you, you don’t really like the whole “goodbye” word anyway. I mean I guess if you break it down, a “good” bye is what you hope for but you’d actually rather not do the bye thing at all if you had your choice. I think the English langauge works very hard on some words to make them sound more appealing than they are. I’ll let you know when me and Yaze get back from Europe on whether or not this theory stands true.

So we are leaving the West for now. Yaze will be staying back for a month or two to creat his masterpiece, his magnum opus to music. I will be back clamoring to get tix to Shakespeare in the Park (it sounds highbrow but dude, those park theater people can run it! A play in the middle of Central Park with moving sets pieces, lights, music is nothing like your boring be quiet high brow, stuff evening clothes, somebody sneezing all the time, expensive Coke and Twizzlers Broadway show). Say goodbye (for REAL) to the damn $60 gas tank we have too. Not a fan. F- on driving in LA. I like CHOOSING when to drive and driving some place fun, other than that, I need to be pedestrian. Snow and all. You ain’t lived unttil you’ve walked to school in Detroit, mid-winter. Everything after that is a jello mold.

I will miss the PCH at dusk. I will miss Jen Andrews and all my friends (especially the TM folks). I will miss really great sushi places. I will miss KCRW on my car radio (that is a tape player too, so you know I kept it real in my 89 Jeep Cherokee). I will miss LA architecture and the rarity of McMansions popping up in LA proper ever seven seconds. I will miss the liberal boehmian wealthy grunge of Silverlake. I love when hippy people who have money pretend not to care about it! I wish I could be that way. I’m a hippy type with no money. I will miss the true hippy types in Venice…while Venice will never be a complete slacker neighborhood (not as long as there are beach rentals there), I love that some people there do what they can to live by a cold water beach. I never got a chance to learn surfing as I figured I would wait after I put my toe in the water here for the first time and got frost bite. In August! It does look fun though…I will miss luxury cocktails at places that normally would treat me as hired help. Sometimes it’s worth it to pay twenty bucks for a mango mojito at the Beverly Hills Hotel when they look at you weird because you don’t quite fit the MO of a guest there. Ha! I will miss open houses to see what people like to spend their change on. And to see how much change they do have. Or don’t! Sometimes your zip code does not mean you will have a banging house. And lastly, I will miss my lovely apartment. It’s all you could dream about. Airy, light, old, elevator.

But time moves on…and so does life so I have a good picture of these things in my head. Now I can write about them since they are moving past me. Hey, we now live in a world where Prince is bigger than Michael Jackson and has a commericial on tv for a cellphone. Now take back to your third grade playground battles on who was better, the Gloved One or the Purple One?? Between you and me, I would’ve lost. I was so in love with that pervy walking wax figure that I was sure my heart would break at the thought of never even meeting him. In a croweded Michigan arena, I could see the sparkles from his jacket during The Victory tour and thought for sure I saw him look at me….in row 47816416789435456. Thank god for small favors. I could’ve been Debbie, his obvious weirdo ex beard. Who picks an unhot beard? I mean if you’re going to pick somebody who is so NOT with you, why not pick the best money can buy? A beard is not something you want to skimp on. It’s like eye surgery. You get what you pay for.

Which brings me to my most favorite Crunkstastical exchange this month. Crunk’s a link on the right and Fresh is the funniest Wilona (Wilona: sassy black woman who obviously shops at the “Boo-tique” often) on the web.

Please see her conversation in the head with baby Daniel of the Knowles clan:

True story. I was standing in the check out line with my nephew at Toys R’ Us last month and Baby Daniel tried to get a sell up out of me. The conversation went something like this:

Baby Daniel: “I got that purp. Fuck with your boy.”

Me: “Kush? I don’t even get down like that, folk.”

Baby Daniel: “Nah, them purple tops.”

Me: “Do I look like Marion Barry to you? Miss me with that.”

Baby Daniel: “Nah nah nah! You got me bent like some elbows. I got that hard. That good. That fire. Flinestone Vitamin Gummies. Girl smell how raw this product is. Meet me at my Caprice if you want to do business.”

Damn shame. I don’t know why he is trying to build his Seasame Street credibility. Lil’ Rock already has the game on lock. Everybody from here to Virgina know that he got that Bobby by the pound and Whitney by the key.

Tweet

No Comments

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.