Part of the cityscape

I’m spending the week housesitting in LA. After many years in the burbs, being back in the mix feels a bit like whiplash. It’s not like I’m never here. I grew up in SoCal, grew up in an around the TV industry. When I was 12, I took my first solo train ride on the Metrolink to Union Station in Downtown LA (I was meeting my stepdad, and parents allowed their kids to do stuff like that back then). And I lived in West Hollywood for several years. I’m always working events in and around this vast urban sprawl. And yet…LA feels rougher now. While driving in LA has always been an exercise in chaos, drivers now seem to be at least 20 percent worse. Running a few basic errands means navigating a maze of reckless or absent-minded drivers, parking in an overcrowded lot, then having to flag down store employees to retrieve basic items encased behind plexiglass. City-dwellers seemed to have never recovered a sense of spacial awareness. And there’s definitely a new crop of showbiz hopefuls, younger and having come of age during pandemic lockdowns. All while the entertainment industry is still reeling from two major strikes.

And we’re hosting the Olympics soon…

My Photos app brought up a collage of different cityscapes I’ve shot of LA over the years. From Griffith Observatory, Runyon Canyon, the Hollywood Hills. Some are smoggy and sun-soaked. Some are a glittery nighttime urban landscape. They all remind me of the millions of dreamers dreaming hard in those cramped streets and apartments. I’ve dreamed just as hard as all of them, and some of my dreams definitely needed more time to cook. And spend any amount of time here and you’ll see just how many broken dreams there are. Disappointments, rejections, many horror stories of people who now find they have nowhere else to go, much less dream of. There is a lot of a magic here, but there is also a lot of need.

I had another blog post I was going to publish. A despite knowing that very few people actually read these, I decided it was maybe a bit too cynical. Who knows, maybe I’ll post it eventually. But the gist of it was about the many people come here and eventually leave with those broken dreams. They return to wherever they left from, and offer one maxim to anyone who asks: “LA is garbage.”

Okay, sure. LA is garbage. It’s garbage to people who came here expecting everyone who was already here to make their dreams of fame, stardom, and wealth come true. LA is garbage if you only associates with fellow social climbers, star f***ers, and sleazebags trying to take advantage of you. LA is garbage if you never seeks to learn about the culture, climate, and history that was here long before you arrived. Not many people ask, but if someone were to ask me how they should go about moving to LA, my advice is often simply: Don’t move here. Seek out a medium-sized city where you can gain experience, training, social media followers before you even consider moving here. I’m one of the lucky ones in that my family and my entire support system is already here. But if you come here with nothing but a suitcase and dream, you’re just another car on the 405. And is that how you want to spend your youth?

Fine, it’s frustrating here. As my brother likes to put it, it’s the best place to live and the worst place to live. It seems always to be the best of times and the worst of times. Billionaires and the unhoused with literal TVs playing inside their roadside tents. Hellish heat and biblical level rain storms. “Free”ways that are no longer free. It sometimes takes some squinting to see what makes Los Angeles so great. Again, I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to see it when LA really gets it right. I saw my late stepdad work harder than anyone else in the television industry and be able to rise to about as far as one could go. I’m becoming a lot more like him, knowing these freeways and off-ramps like a map on my hand. Enmeshing myself across this town, and becoming part of the landscape like he did. Part of the cityscape.

Summer: Oversized, hot, lazy

My big tush is made for hiking, dancing, being at photo sessions. After a weekend away in the desert, I’m dragging myself back to work mode. How easy I forget that the job of a freelance artist is mainly in front of a computer screen.

I’ll also admit that reaching to find inspiration in these dog days often involves me arguing with myself. “Do I have to? It’s way too hot! I’m already sweating my SPF off!” The sun shines a bit too brightly on everything midday. My neck is burning. Those eternally classic images I’m trying to find seem to elude me because everything and everyone looks hot and moist.

An oversized beet at the OC Fair.

This time of year is usually the slowest for me. My regular client are usually off on vacation, or otherwise out-of-office (OOO). And yet, the summer weeks are drawing to a close and it’s time to answer emails. The busy part of business calls.

The bloom spike on the agave in my front yard towering above at nearly 30 feet.

Much like myself when I’m in the desert, I want to remain lazy. The emails can wait, right? Not in my business, and certainly not at the point in my career. Despite being at this photography thing for awhile now, I’m still in the establishing phase. I’m still laying the solid foundation that keeps me solid as a build and grow. Laziness need not apply.

Overflowing bounty at the farmer’s market.

I’m holding on to the last bits of summer. In SoCal, we know the heat will last well into September, October, even past Thanksgiving and into Christmas. Before I know it, the time changes back to Standard Time and that’s when things get really tough for my mood and overall motivation. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

August 4 – Planting basil, OC County Fair, summer cooking

These long, hot summer days. No matter how much prepare, I sweat through my clothes and off the serums and sunscreen I paid decent money for. In my house, we’re frugal with the AC. So for a few days, when the heat wasn’t quite as brutal, we flung all the windows open and enjoyed the warm breeze for what it was. Eventually, though, I gave in as the days once again became unbearable. And, no matter how careful I am, at least once mosquito manages to get inside the house and wreak havoc on my ankles.

A project: I managed to assemble the beautiful cedar garden planter I got for my birthday. It only took a few dozen bolts, nuts, and some patience. I was able to get it done in an hour. The next day, I filled it with soil and different varieties of basil, which are hanging in alright in their sunny spot. I worry they might perish if I happen to leave down. The risk one takes in garden. Vigilance is key, but so is being willing to walk away when needed.

Slightly related to gardening, I visited the Orange County Fair with my dad and my brother. I hadn’t been in ages, and didn’t remember quite what it was like. And since I had gotten so used to working the LA County Fair, I was surprised to see just how small the OC Fair is in comparison. The Pomona Fairplex is truly a giant and nearly impossible to take in all in one day. I’m partial to the LA Fair, but I will say the OC Fairgrounds in Costa Mesa make for an easier walking experience.

Cooking:

I’m trying to remember to take more photos of what I’ve been cooking at home lately.

Here is a vegan potpie. Very simple, no recipe, but full of vegetables I had in the freezer and topped with a drop biscuit recipe from The Joy of Vegan Baking. (This book is a staple in my kitchen, especially during holiday baking.)

Everything tastes better in vintage blue cornflower Corningware.

Right around now is where I can sense the light changing, even though I know we’re in for a few more months of intense California heat. I feel it, too, as I begin to gear up or what is normally by busy season in event photography.