Los Angeles, City Of Broken Angels

There are many things I love about LA. But some days, I fear for us. Some days, it seems like we are simply a haven for broken angels, where:

…love of art, fame, and money have become the same thing. I almost wonder if I can even separate them anymore.

…love of self has become paramount.

…love of networking has replaced love for people. All that matters is “What have you done for me?” “What could you do for me?” and, most importantly, “What have you done for me lately?” (as I simply cannot remember past the insecurities of my own last 24 hours).

…alone is the new together. Every individual must own a car and drive it everywhere. Alone. Going across the street? Drive. It is state law! You may own a cell phone and talk on it incessantly, but you may not have meaningful conversations. (That is also state law.)

…California is god. We will sacrifice every spare cent we make to live in a city that is almost exactly like every other city on the world, but with more traffic, and an unusually high concentration of businessartists. We will pay outlandish costs for taxes, milk, gas, rent, heat, water, and everyothergodforsakenthing you can buy, simply because our zip codes start with a “9.”

…everything can be bought. Everything.

I think we best pray to God that, unlike fashions, mentalities do not spread from the left coast.

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