Sweet love, renew thy force

The most California moment I've had so far happened the day after I arrived.  Liz and I were walking around Larchmont looking for some breakfast.  The pervasively clean wood and white walls behind every clever geometrically designed coffee and juice place were giving me unreasonably calm vibes.  Every moment I could feel the kale and ginger absorbing into my thoughts and producing a psychological glow.  She laughed at me and said, "God, is Minneapolis really devoid of all this shit?"  I said of course not.  There's another thing I can't name.  "What?"  Ugh.  I can't name it, dude.  She laughed.  Then all of a sudden there it was in front of me.  

A small daschund-like puppy had wandered into the middle of the street, and his owner, a girl with a blonde undercut and yoga pants, was trying to get him back on the sidewalk using a kind of Responsive Classroom approach, "Dart, you're in the middle of the road.  You have to move back here.  Just walk over.  Come over."  Strangers were huddled and problem-solving.  "Does anyone have any food?" No sooner had those words been pronounced than the girl had a long piece of jerky in her hand given to her by a passer-by.  When Dart had safely made it back to the sidewalk, a woman wearing an Aztec-patterned open tunic and, yes, yoga pants embraced the owner of the dog, smiling widely and saying, "You're great.  You're so great.  Everything's ok."

Waking up in Los Angeles is kind of like staying in a dream state for an hour or so after getting out of bed.  It's so warm and the sky is so beautiful that there really is no reason to think you're awake.  The colors coming through the window wash the room in a feeling of lazy optimism.

I've been pretending to be Elizabeth's roommate this week and it's been sweet.  Having never spent this much time together I previously thought she was endlessly patient.  Undyingly giving.  Where is her line?  Her family of course.  Bonding experiences abound.  

Imelda came by and brought each of us a (no joke) 2 liter bottle of Cuervo.  Like what?  In an attempt to make lemonade out of tequila, Liz made us a raspberry lime cocktail that tasted like ... poison?  Gasoline?  Garbage?  Yeah garbage sounds right.  Lol.  We drank and soon abandoned it for the limoncello Brett made.  Then we had some Theraflu and took a quiz that pinpoints where your accent originates down to the city.  We = Turnt the eff up.  Incidentally the quiz was eerily accurate.  

The first night I was here Daniella offered me some coke.  Wow.  Flashback to the year right after high school when I was at her house and she offered me some coke.  Still said no.  Some things never change.  

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Still as great as it is to not have to wear a coat outdoors in December, there's something missing from this place for me now.  

Maybe simply living outside of California for a while made the world expand.  It includes more than it used to.  Whatever it is, the tangible life force I felt in these streets and in these buildings has shifted.  It's somewhere else now.  I'm not sure where exactly, but it isn't quite here.

I'm too tired for epiphanies at the moment, but there is something profound to be said here.  Something truly meaningful.  Let's pretend I said that.

Goodnight.