Ever since I posted this, I've been reminiscing about La-La Land. Inspired by those memories and Stephanie’s comment, these are my mental images of my time in Los Angeles…
My L.A. is sunny and warm, except for January, when it is dark and miserable and rainy.
My L.A. is spread out over acres and acres and miles…with room to breathe between buildings…relaxed and at ease.
My L.A. is old, quaint apartment buildings…working with, but not in, the movie industry…wide, wide, WIDE beaches…taking the city bus to Disneyland…watching movies in the tiny little theaters at the top of the Beverly Center…wandering around Westwood on the weekends.
My L.A. is Technicolor, vibrant, bold…yet quiet.
My L.A. is working as a temp…taking the bus everywhere…wearing flats on the bus and carrying my heels.
My L.A. is the Bonaventure Hotel…the First Interstate Bank fire…Arc en Ciel restaurant…the LaBrea Tar Pits.
My L.A. is big, whimsical earrings…bold, high, high heels…shoulder pads and trumpet skirts.
My L.A. is being propositioned in Spanish and sign language…a fishhead bobbing out of a bag next to me on the bus...grocery shopping at Von’s and wheeling my things home in a two-wheeled cart like an old lady.
My L.A. is Wilshire Blvd. all the way from Santa Monica Pier to the heart of downtown…Beverly Blvd. from Madison Ave. to the Beverly Center…Western Ave. from Hollywood to Pico.
My L.A. is bright blue sky…sun-heated pavement…never tiring of the sight of palm trees…giant bird of paradise at the edge of a tiny, verdant green lawn.
My L.A. is first freedom…true independence…young success.