it is disconcerting, and nice, to leave nyc in a snowstorm and step off the plane in l.a to clear blue skies and perfectly coiffed palm trees. los angeles is such an odd and remarkable city. it’s all invented, for good and for bad. the traditions are all kind of made up traditions, where ‘form follows function’ is turned on its head. ‘functions follows whim follows arbitrary follows internal combustion.’ and for some reason i love it. i love new york, the city of my birth. i love lots of places. but for some reason i really love los angeles. i love that the architecture is arbitrary and temporary. i love that you can hear coyotes while eating dinner. i love that fortunes change in 1/8th of a second. i love that new york is considered the old country. i love that you can see snow covered mountains in the distance while standing underneath a palm tree. i love that nature is constantly trying to make l.a go away. i love that you can climb runyon canyon and see the entire city spread before you, from top to bottom. and i truly love that it’s sunny and warm here on december 22nd. i could go on, but that would be even more annoying than i’ve already been. and soon i go to new zealand, which i also love. and australia. which, yes, i love. so much love is bound to wear thin on people, so i should stop writing now.