A decade of decadance

Dealville wasn't a life-long goal, but it was the whole reason I was in college: to get here and begin to make it happen. In terms of timing, I was lucky in one respect: it was 2000, not 2010. Good fucking luck making it a-fresh in this shitstorm. But this was the glorious beginning of another decade, where millionaires were made "instantly" and problems were minimal.

Upon arrival, I drove a rental car (pacing up and down the street of the apartment) to let off steam from the flights. I turned on the radio and "Hotel California" began. Was this some sort of deal from Enterprise? Do all the cars do this? No, they don't...I just figured this coincidence was actually the ground rules of what would become my life.

For the first months, I stayed at an apartment complex with 26 buildings. It was quite the spread, and I'd lie if I said I had a care in the world. I was an intern while I took "classes" but that was merely the daytime life. At night, there was a new swanky world and hot tubs. By the end of this "semester" I was in a tent at a campground just miles from Mexico with a girl I'd recently met. That's insanity! How would I ever end up in that kind of situation? Was I changing, or was LA changing me?

Returning from graduation, I saved enough cash for a few months, including rent. Deals were approached left and right. Again, this was in a deal-friendly time, one where websites were the future...television, film studios, these were all the past. I felt like Homer Simpson just showing up when the plant opens. I knew I was lucky, but I was also prepared. And as Robert Evans says, luck is when opportunity meets preparation.

The majority of my initial friends out here were left-over from college. I should say "acquaintances" since in most cases, all we had in common was our alma matter. The fact that I found work so quickly was met with some distance. I received the usual inquires (simply about a job - who cared what I did?) along with the passive aggressive nature that keeps so many people alone.

In time I moved to Hollywood. It sounds nice, doesn't it? But every neighborhood, even dripping with gold, has a realistic level. The address was just as much to be within the tricks as it was likely feeding something inside to show off. Maybe not as much as Maurice "T.T." Rodriguez and his want to show off for his Puerto Rican family, but there. Naturally, no one gives a shit about that in town. It's all about price. You could live in the best house in the best neighborhood but if you're paying through the nose (sometimes literally) you're treated as the moron you are.

I found this out when I moved toward the westside. I was actually in a very nice area in a nice place not paying too much (relative for the area). When I'd tell someone where I'd live they'd say "Oh - Beverly Hills adjacent." What the fuck is that? More than real estate jingo, it's the band-aid of battered pride. Sure, I guess I live adjacent to it, but I live in Los Angeles. That's what my mail says.

Work sent me to Burbank...that "beautiful" zone just over the hill, and it usually brings shame from others living in a castle. Oh I understand - but commutes can kill you out here. When I had my most traffic-filled drive, I twice bumped people at a stoplight. (One of which, the girl in front of me looked out of her car pissed...frantically looking for something wrong while I apologized she said "Are you fucking kidding me?" and drove off) I got rear-ended with large damage to ol' Bess while the guy behind me hit the bricks. This is madness. Living close to work is a necessity if you can hack it, so I pulled the plug.

Since this occurred, I've grown to love the quiet of the 50's style suburban feel of this nook of Dealville. The calm (especially late at night) has been my best friend, and I average 12 hours of sleep in odd shifts. There was a time where I would give a fuck about something like that. Now, I cherish it and tell others of my bunker. Hmmm...has this decade in Dealville made me better or worse?

Life is a natural process in this town, no matter what the outsiders say. And the outsiders LOVE to talk about Dealville and point out its faults. (Or fault-lines) They are a jealous and angry bunch, and you are best to ignore them. But when I wrote "flight home" in my calendar back in 2000, I wasn't foreshadowing. I wasn't projecting a false vision of my future. I was stating the facts: that my life was as I wanted it.

And what have I wanted and seen in my life in this decade? It's been the whiskey-aided thoughts clouding my surroundings in good and bad times. It's drug-fueled ramblings when I speak of good fortune. It is an ambling attitude that the good life, if not here, is right around the corner. It takes work, and no one said it would be easy, but it's life. It's home. It's Pacific Gold.