Dive Bar Diaries
If drinking on the cheap is wrong, I don't want to be right.
learning curves; or, palm tress does not an oasis make
As it's been six weeks since my life-changing move to Koreatown, I thought it would be good to dedicate an entry solely to things I have learned, and things I am thankful for. It helps to put things in perspective. Plus it allows me to write in bullets, which brings me great joy.
- when living alone, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, and it doesn't bother anyone. you can even do it naked. cook dinner at 9pm naked? fine! play solitaire on a sunday afternoon naked? great! the other building might prefer I buy curtains, but no phone calls have been received, so the naked freedom shall continue until court order declares otherwise.
- LA is not some small town where people genuinely go out of their way to help you and show concern for your well-being. In fact, nobody gives two shits about you, so you better sack up and start fighting before you get left in the dust. Sad but true. Start living.
- the world you're used to know does not end just because you're not a part of it. sometimes it doesn't even slow down. and it's ok for that to be a bummer...but grow and adapt accordingly.
- street parking in hollywood is equivalent to finding a spot at the world's largest mall the day after thanksgiving...in a world of only women. If you get a place in LA, you damn well better get a reserved spot.
**part two - parking tickets are very real, and very expensive. read the signs. the bloodthirsty communists (aka LAPD parking enforcement) hate their lives and will go out of their way to prove the point that RED CURB = NO BUENO.)
- want to drink less? move to LA. A $6 bottle of domestic beer sobers most people up real fast.
- nobody can drive. no elaboration necessary.
- while you may have no money, fewer friends, and questionable surroundings...there's something to be said for being truly independent.
- having less makes you appreciate more. sad how I'd forgotten this. seeing friends less often makes you appreciate them more. eating good food or having a drink means more when you can't do it all the time. congratulating yourself with small rewards can do a lot to improve a day. sometimes just waking up and being healthy when you're surrounded by so much sadness does the trick.
- you can cut coupons and still maintain your dignity.
- sometimes you just have to say no. and the applies to a lot of different things.
...and the number one thing I've learned from living in la-la land...
- don't give in. it applies almost as much as "just say no". don't give in to people that doubt you, and don't give in to people that praise you for ulterior motives. don't give in to thinking it won't get better, and definitely don't give in to thinking you should change to make other people happy.
the sun will come up tomorrow, even in LA.
this is where dreams come true.
make it happen.
honesty, honestly
hmmm...a weekend full of honesty. or sometimes the lack thereof.
So I went to a gay club. Correction: the gayest place I've ever been in my life. Keeping in mind I have been to both the Castro and Disneyland numerous time. This place was GAY...the music was like a bass explosion of techo-remix on acid during a seizure. Complete with a disco ball that may have in fact been bigger than my apartment. Add in the strobe light and the hundreds of gyrating boy-toys (one that was drinking white wine on the dance floor...homo says what?) and you had yourself a queen-filled experience.
Regardless...I was there. Why? I dunno...it's where I'm supposed to go, I guess. And while it is mildly enjoyable it also seemed to leave me unsettled. I feel pressured to like it. Hard to explain to those of the sexual norm...but you get this slight panic when you go against the gay grain. For instance...these bars in WeHo. I don't hate them...but I dont love them either. I kind of view them as a necessary experience. Not good, not bad...it just is.
But honestly...I would rather meet guys somewhere else. Just don't tell the others.
Sometimes though honesty comes through when you need it. In some effort at decency I will keep this description purposefully vague...but I met a guy at this club. From the get-go not my usual type, but I let that pass. So one good thing led to another and I ended up at his place...where, in a moment of enlightenment, I decided to be blatantly honest and say that certain things were not going to happen. And that if he didn't see it the same way, I would gracefully make an exit, no harm, no foul.
But it worked out. Score one for daring, if not necessary, honesty.
And sometimes it's kind of a draw. Sometimes it's better to keep honesty close to the vest; sometimes to protect yourself, sometimes to protect others. How do you tell someone you love that you think they're wrong? How effective can a lie be if you're telling it to yourself? (answer being: more effective than you might think) What about when you know others are worried about your well-being? How do express a change of heart, a disappointment, a realization? Especially the last one...there are few things harder than seeing the truth about something and waiting for everyone else to catch up.
I dunno...the truth is I'm up in the air. Sprawled out in bed last night running a triple-digit fever with nothing but time, there's lots of freedom to reflect. Truth is a funny thing. I've been watching a lot of "House" lately, and Dr. House says everyone lies...and what they lie about tells you what's most important in their lives.
All in all, I think truth won out this weekend, as it tends to do.
But truth is in the eye of the believer.
penny for your thoughts, $300 for your soul
Yesterday I officially tried to be cool. As I was "working" on craigslist (supposedly finding jobs for our talent) I was of course looking to make money myself. I found a posting for, in fewer words, the people that go into bars, flirt, hand out samples, and make you think that whatever booze they're pushing will make you desirable.
I know, I know...gag.
But as far as ho-ing oneself out, the pay wasn't shabby...$300 for the weekend, a total of 4 hours actually "working". Clearly money like that pushed whatever morals I have left FAR out of the way.
So I applied. Well...I tried to apply.
How do you make yourself seem cool? This is not a strong suit of mine. I've always gotten through life by being...I dunno, me. It's certainly not cool. Real, yes. Simple, for sure. But I've never done trends (other than my Hammer pants, which I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for). It's never been something I got hung up on...so trying to seem as "hip" as they wanted was a stretch. Not that I'm at all bummed about my level of cool; I'm perfectly content with how the world seems to see me. But they wanted Abercrombie model...all I could offer is Target shopper.
Also, now that I judge people based on their looks full-time, I have a new found awareness of what a picture says. A thousand words, my ass. It says way more than that. As I searched through the photo archive of my life (facebook, natch) nothing seemed right. LA has made my ability to find flaws amazing, if not downright professional.
So I did my best. I put down how outgoing, how talkative, how approachable I am. I flaunted my knowledge of the area gay bars and their clientele. And I sent pictures that I thought said something close to stunning, vivacious, take-my-sample-and-I'll-do-you-on-the-bar.
But I'm not holding my breath. In fact, I'm pretty sure even by some act of Zeus I got a call, I'd suck at it. Being cool and aloof isn't my game. (By know means think I'd turn it down; for $300, I'd do a lot).
But now I can say I tried to be cool, if even for a few minutes. But it was stressful and confusing and a little depressing...so I'm going back to being simple...
I think it's where I belong.
en-light-enment; or, power to the people!
It's easy in this neck of the woods to feel like you're whacking your head repeatedly as you fall down the socio-economic ladder...but there's always someone worse off.
I don't know my neighbors. This is not Mayberry: no fruit baskets, no cups of sugar, nada. Even in the odd chance we spot one another entering or leaving, warm greetings are not exchanged. So I don't have a lot of basis to draw assumptions about them; I mean, other than the fact they live in my building, which actually says a lot about a person. None of us are slumming for the fun of it.
But yesterday I had to give one of them credit. It finally dawned on me that every night one of the units downstairs has an extension cord coming out of it; never thought much of it. Most of the units are being renovated, so construction paraphernalia is not out of the ordinary. But then I realized that every night it's plugged in to the hallway, but every morning it's neatly rolled up against the wall.
The tricky bastard isn't paying for electricity!
See, our main hallways have power, but each unit is separately run and metered accordingly. So instead of chucking the obligatory $20 or so dollars a month in to LA's coffers, he just plugs himself in every night and goes to town on the landlord's dollar. At first I was a little appalled...then I was just bummed I didn't think of it first.
Well played...well played indeed.
In the not-too-distant past, I would've been quick to criticize his thrifty nature...but people in broken down apartment buildings can't throw stones.
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