nights in Los Angeles

getting a late night eat at a cheap Japanese fast-food restaraunt on east Beverly, trying to get the woman's attention over the loud exclamations of the Latino punk teenagers in the corner of the restaraunt calling at her at the same time... they're her friends, and she's trying to act like she's actively working, but it takes her a while to get my order as an older man scowls from behind the corner at me.

i love the kids though. they're so racuous and crazy. they're like a love and rockets comic book come to life; everything I thought so wondeful about Los Angeles came true, weetzie bat mixed in with hopey & maggie and Mexican punk rock shows bubbling with life. A chunky girl with weird glasses, corn rows and combat boots leans on the fast food worker, then looking at us guiltily yells at her friend, "Hey guys, quiet down, man!"

It's so sweet that I look like such a straight old lady that they'd want to behave for me.

The teenagers are such good kids, jumping around in creepers and chucks and gossipping and throwing pieces of paper at each other. People keep running in and out into the darkness; boys are always carrying skateboards around, thick dark hair tucked under baseball hats. Seeing them, I'm hit with nostalgia, but back when I was their age it was ok to smoke in restaraunts, and I remember going through entire packs of clove cigarettes at the Denny's and reeking like something nasty.

***

Walking home from the club, we're holding arms to each other, and we just can't find the taco truck. The security guards here are so friendly; I can't imagine having these casual conversations with total strangers in Europe, at least not to the same degree that I do here. And that's why I love America so much, despite its faults. On the other side of Hollywood

Los Angeles is just so vibrant and magical in a way that I can't explain. The whole world is here. It's so dark, passing by the ghostly industrial buildings painted with Lady Guadalupe looking down on us like a pretty greek icon.

There are church doorways spilling a happy dancing crowd light onto the street in buildings that don't look immediately like churches. We can see boys in suits and ties dancing with their parents, and girls hugging each other with fluttery polyester dresses from Forever 21. I don't know how they can dance in those heels, their feet must be dying, and do people really look sexy when they're teetering around like that? Most women can't dance sexy in heels, they always mess it up, but these girls can, it's a special gift given only to a select few! The music blasts out but fades, weakening just as the bright yellow party lights fade out until there's only night swallowing the happiness and life.

Against a steep hill there's a huge bus with a smiley face painted on it behind the fence. Who would just abandon a truck there? And then paint it white? In the dark, it's ghostly, and it was a long long time ago when it was up and running. There's a peace in its acceptance of its death. It would be really funny if, when I die, they put up a tombstone with a big smiley face above my corpse, just to add a little humor to the situation like all those witty wild west limerick gravestones.

Against the end of the street, some men have set up a grill, and they're selling something delicious. I have no idea what all these foods are; Mexican food is a bad scene in Berlin, and coming to California is like jumping into a technicolor world of food, so much so that I can't stop eating and my pants don't fit after a few weeks. There's just so much to try out and not enough time to do it all. Men and women gather around, but I can't tell if they're going to buy anything or if it's just some informal party; I like how they are shadowily unidentifiable...

But then you finish passing these islands of light and life and then you only have each other to cling to. And the cars that zip up and down the empty road. I try to explain to him that cars are in another time dimension. You have to careful crossing the street because pedestrians move in slow motion from the driver's point of view. What you need is a time machine mixer just like DJs have to match the beats and make everyone safe.

Berlin is in another time dimension, and that's why nobody from there could understand why a place like Los Angeles is so beautiful. It's just running on a different beat, and rarely does anyone have the sense to push things together that don't entirely match, and it's moments like that that I feel a bit melancholy, because sometimes i don't think that there are many people who can see things the way I do, or maybe my head's just put on strangely.