Monday, March 20, 2006


I'm back in Los Angeles, as of Saturday evening. Drove to San Francisco on Thursday to pick up a friend who has recently abandoned LA for a kick-ass job teaching filmmaking, which makes him a traitor, actually. We headed south on Saturday, but he refused to go with me to the Winchester Mystery House, which makes him a double traitor.

If you don't know what that eighth wonder of the world is, Google it. In brief: Crazed with grief widow/heir to the Winchester rifle fortune seeks counsel with a necromancer following the death of her husband and child. The clairvoyant tells her she is cursed (that's what they told me, clearly. My favorite was the Westwood gypsy who said, "Your aura is dark, and growing darker rapidly. Soon, not even God will be able to help you."), and must commence round the clock construction, to house all the lost souls who fell before the Winchester guns. If she ever stops building, she will die.

Anyway, the return to LA has been a little jarring after time in two of the world's most beautiful cities. My neighborhood is excellent, but LA leaves so much to be desired, especially aesthetically. Maybe that's why there is such a fixation on physical beauty here; we are starved for it in architecture and geography.

Today I had a true LA moment: as I drove to resume work at the Yoga studio, I saw, again, my first ever celebrity crush. He was driving his white Jeep, with his Australian Shepherd, Dodger, sitting in the back seat. I met him almost as soon as I moved here, up at the neighborhood dog park. He's a very nice fellow, this Randolph Mantooth. That's right, Johnny Gage from Emergency! I wasn't even in grade school, but I felt that dull burning in my heart, the longing. In front of the tv, my sister and I sat like pilgrims at a shrine. Cross-legged in our full-length nighties, we stirred bowls of chocolate ice cream until it was something like a milkshake (for you East coasters, I'm tempted to write "cabinet" or "frappe." Rhode Islanders should know what I mean, for that's where I learned those silly terms). Double delight: Johnny Gage was hot!

It's good to be home. Rampart!

1 comment:

stella said...

I'll go with you to the Winchester house! Feng shui up some ghosts. Wile them out with qi gong. Whoopee! And, of course, you're always invited to Rhode Island, though that will probably be less fun for you. As all I ever do is drive past my old BF's house and chase down the Del's truck. Del's: Way better than a cabinet.