wilted and faded somewhere in Hollywood

[sab]

nights like this, Punk reminding me about "You Had Time" and the weather that sort of vague summery autumn, I miss LA so bad it hurts.

it really, really hurts. I grew up in New York, and for a while there, I was a New Yorker living in LA, and that was something, but now I'm just a New Yorker living in New York, and george said "you poor half a girl" and that's about the size of it.

Because I didn't know, until I got here and it was just New York, just like it's always been, that I had it right, even broke, for three years, and I just didn't know.

so what's a year? if that's what it takes to get me rich and famous so I can move home? what's a year when I can't listen to that Shawn Mullins song about the bar on Fairfax, because it was my bar on Fairfax? and what's a year when I can't hear Beth Hart singing She hangs around the boulevard, she's a local girl with local scars because in that one she left LA and came back in three minutes, after the second chorus. And next to three minutes, what's a year?

a whole hell of a lot.

and I feel so broke up, I wanna go home.

Comments

[qowf.livejournal.com]

So, I read your note today. And this is hard thing. You were good in LA. But you are good in New York, too.

Remember: soon, there will be snow.

and
if there is one thing i've learned
it is that home is a place within
we are snails all of us
carrying the load of our lives
in shells in minds in little black bags
slung carelessly across our shoulders
filled with the weight of the world

Snow. Cold on cheeks. Christmas in New York.

Think on these things, love.

[iamsab.livejournal.com]

lemme just say, L. Thank you for this. hardcore, really, thank you.

and you already know the Joe Mantello story. *g*