Moving to Hollywood, CA has always been a dream of mine since I was a small child. Of course, the Hollywood of my dreams doesn't really exist, nor has it ever existed according to Locals. But I moved here anyway to find out for myself weather or not there might be a happy medium tucked between the fantasy tinsel town that lives in black and white studio films and the depressing mess that reality has created in this sprawling cluster fudge.
Once you sit through a few hypnosis sessions with a questionable "professional" to rid yourself of the stress and anxiety that comes with living in a earthquake prone, wild fire free for all, one can really enjoy the sun shine if you can see it through the smog and tear gas. Of course this is a short list of all the negative aspects of Los Angeles, I wouldn't feel right to leave out the awful Jackson Pollack-ish freeway system, the homeless problem, and zombies. For the love of God...THE ZOMBIES!
Then there are the coked out, high-on-there-own-hype celebrities that grease the gears of this evil machine that destroys everything in it's path. Hollywood has traded Clark Gable for Paris Hilton and has buried anyone that resembles a role model up to there necks in sand at high tide. Of course there are still positive influences in Hollywood, one can only feel good about the world when Ed Begley Jr. plows through a crowd of celebrispawn and CW shit heads outside of the Ivy with his electric car. Ed Begley Jr. has NOT committed electric vehicular homicide but I am sure he dreams about it, well....I dream about it at least.
I am told that Hollywood is going green. I would love to believe this story, but I happen to use public transportation in Los Angeles and the only actors that slum it on the metro are buskers and heroin addicts. Riding the rails in LA resembles traveling down a mine shaft on a coal cart with a hundred other people plagued with the same realization that I have come to embrace. Poor immigrants and down-on-their-luck-ers use mass transit out of necessity not choice while the rich and famous trade out their incandescent bulbs for compact fluorescents on their private jets so that they can be photographed with Al Gore for the Earth Day spread in Douche bag magazine.
Of course, I could be wrong. After all, I have only lived here for a month.
