The City of Angeles
I left LA last week to start a job at Yale in New Haven. No city or place on earth has left me with such ambivalent feelings.
On the one hand, I would not ever wish upon anyone the curse of living in Los Angeles. More often than not, it felt like a soul-less city of strangers: neither a place in time nor a place in space, but rather a swath of suburban jungle, punctuated by heroic feats of human superficiality, indifference and “me-I-want-more’ egocentrism. It felt like a city lost, somewhere between the gilded age of Hollywood’s Glory and the coked-up ’80s, a city lost to the world.
Yet, at the same time, the place felt like a city of angeles. LA is a singularly unique point in history of the world, where you can start your day with a ‘death meditation’, become one with the awesome force of the Pacific surf, and mingle among the tech geniuses at Shutters — all before lunch. Nowhere else have I seen the sheer force of shameless capitalism give rise to something so deep and meaningful. Out of the no-bullshit-balls-to-the-wall-take-no-prisoners culture of LA emerges a collection of beautiful human beings. Everything that the City lacks in aggregate: a soul, a meaning, a purpose, a sense of self — its people deliver in abundance. The brave men and women of Los Angles know they walk among the angeles. They love like it’s their last day on Earth; they live with no regrets; and they know that all we have as humans is the present moment.
Los Angles has mastered the sacred art of living in the present.
Having had the privilege of sharing that moment in the present with my LA friends, I know I will — or rather I must — be back.
