Time Travel

Last night Steven and I went to go see the Vidal Sassoon movie, with Sassoon present for a Q&A afterwards.
We ran around town beforehand in the rain. First going to our little Thai massage place. We were late due to traffic, and they gave our appointments away. So I went to my secret tailor. Its a dry cleaners in a place on Fairfax that's just falling down. The parking lot is always filled with expensive cars. Ladies and gents stopping of straight from a shopping excursion. They do the best tailoring in town, it's reasonable, and its somewhere you'd never find by chance. Crown Cleaners, in case you were wondering.
From there, we ran a few more errands, each one a little more off the beaten path that the next.
My old neighborhood looks different each time I go in now. It's only been 9 months since I lived there, and already, so many new structures going up.
I feel like I cant keep up, I feel on the outside of it, and it makes me a little sad. 
At dinner, Steven asked me if I missed it. My response was that I didn't miss living there, but I missed the neighborhood.
If that makes any sense.
The movie was okay, not great, but the people watching, fantastic. It was almost all hairdressers, except for the ONE GUY who was able to shout an inane question in at the end. The woman they had interviewing Vidal afterwards was just god awful. Case in point, she didnt know blowdryers where around in the 60's, which elicited a groan form the audience. Vidal himself is very spry, and passionate, and that shone through. Hes incredibly well spoken, and he is without a doubt a true artist. We had a good time. It was pouring rain, and we'd discussed getting dessert at bar marmont afterwards.
We ended up not going though. Because of the rain, because we were over the crowds or because we were a bit bummed over the idiot who interviewed him at the end. I didn't really matter and it didn't come up.
But I was suddenly very disappointed that we weren't going. I hadn't realized just how much I was looking forward to it.
Theres a piece of me there, a piece of my youth. It's been left there. And thats ok.
There was a crazy lady sitting next to me in the theatre who talked my ear off before the movie, and was a little audible during it. No matter how far I turned my head, looked at my phone, or tried to talk to Steven, she'd set her sights on me and there was no letting go. I can usually chat up the best of them, and I love me a freak or two, but she was a little obnoxious. I just wasn't in the mood to have a conversation with a 64 year old woman with black hair and green streaks, who was "in the fashion industry, obviously", about how her silent and bow tied husband sitting next to her spoke fluent Cantonese. 
Normally I'd love it, but this woman just couldn't connect. She was there because she had been a client at his first American salon. The more she talked about it, about the people, the salon, her hair, you could she was there because it was a moment in time for her. 
The closest she could get to a time machine. And maybe it was the best time in her life (her marriage didn't seem so great). And while Bar Marmont definitely was not the best time of my life (frankly it was the worst time in my life that drove me there time and time again.), it was a place I felt safe, entertained, excited, and a little lighter. 
I didn't need any of that last night, any more that that woman needs to be 25 again, but the fact that a transportable place like that can exist for you, is sometimes more of a draw, more amazing in and of itself, than whatever place it can take you.



Los Angeles as a whole is very much that for me.
There are so many nooks and crannies. Its not like living in a town your whole life where you pass by the same things all the time. You may not go into a part of town for 15 years, and suddenly it all comes rushing back. You don't necessarily always evolve with L.A. You can tuck things away, and never think of them again. 
And then there is the flip side, where you lived somewhere for so long that there is a memory everywhere, or every corner, in every corner, and you wind up living in a ghost town of 4 million people.
Moving to Long Beach and not being right in the heart of where I grew up for the first time in my life has been good for me. GREAT for me. 40 miles, and what a difference. Its helped me define past and present more, and its put certain things to rest for me. At the same time, when I go back, memories are sharper, and more intense. Living 3 miles from where I was born for so long dulled me, making my past, present, and future indistinguishable from one another. 
Segmenting is something new for me, and I like the undeniable beginnings and endings quite a bit. I've missed a lot of those traditional milestones due to my unconventional (but wouldn't trade it for the word) bringing. It's refreshing. It allows for closure, and spares confusion in some areas. It can be scary to think something is over, or finished. I'm a big believer that when one door closes, another door opens. Sometimes its hell in the hallway, and sometimes you have a hand of a patient partner to help guide you through.




In OTHER news, Im trying to work at keeping this blog light and fun more, lifestyle stuff than anything....I'd file this entry under FAIL.