So, its a little more than 2 weeks before I make the big move to Atlanta, while tying up loose ends, and planning the big road trip I cant help but have a certain amount of nostalgia for Los Angeles. I’m continually awe struck by the amazing-ocity of this town, the parties, the music, the fashion, the food, but most importantly the family I’ve been blessed to make while here.
My mind is racing, there are so many things I want to do before I leave, and while the move to the ATL isn’t permanent, any time spent away from my beloved Los Angeles is going to be torture. Sadly there isn’t enough time for me to do it all, but, hopefully the city wont change too much while I’m away.
I think one of the things I’m going to miss most is the loft apartment I’ve call home for the past two and a half years. I’m going to miss the bums I see daily as I walk to my car, I’m going to miss the striking contrast of trendy scenesters, tattooed art kids, and street gypsies. I’m going to miss hearing the LA Swat Team run drills every Saturday on the roof of the adjacent police station. I’m going to miss the MOCA, LACMA, and fucking China Town. I’m going to miss the monthly art walk, though I only ever attended a handful of them
I’m going to miss Senior Fish and their amazing succulent scallop tacos, I’m going to miss my grilled cheese love from In-N-Out, Korean BBQ in K-town and The Valley with my family, but mostly I’m going to miss the feta cube and chocolate pot de creme from The Tangier in Silver Lake.
I’m going to miss LA street culture, I’m going to miss stenciling trips by SiArch with my best friend. I’m going to miss driving down Melrose and spying a new Banksy piece, I’m going to miss Shepard Fairy’s Obey Giant phenomenon littering the city. I’m going to miss sneaker shops and Pink Berry in Little Tokyo. I’m going to FUCKING MISS LOS ANGELES!
Lets not forget driving down PCH, the 101, the 10 freeways, baked, hair floating around my face, over sized gangsta shades, common’s voice dancing through my ears, while the sun streams down onto my face while I run errands through town. Thats fucking love, SON!
However, all lovey dovey shit aside, I know this move is going to be great, and is going to make me appreciate my home so much more when I finally get back. I could end this post with some cheesy overly optimistic statement about “making home where ever you are blah blah cliche” however, I’m just going to say I hope it doesn’t suck, and call it a night.