From a Fever Dream of Days: A Three Year Letter
Coming-of-age in Los Angeles is a funny thing. On the weekend evenings, if you walk the crowded streets of Melrose, you begin to believe the people surrounding you aren’t really real — they’re just cartoon characters inhabiting the bodies of other people. You’ll walk past the people taking pictures of themselves, the young teenagers swapping faces with one another on snapchat, the white girls on Instagram drinking coffee at Alfred, and the toned older models — both male and female — who you’ll feel sorry for since they’ll probably never eat at Jon and Vinny’s or Cassia or Animal because they’re too worried about their abs. You will pass these clichéd Pokemon-Go catching caricatures and wonder if your friends back home would believe the reality you’re living in. You even wonder if you believe it yourself.
So you keep walking until your feet are sore and find yourself in front of that green, blue, and red building that’s changing colors every few seconds. And because you’re exhausted, sit down across the street at Zinque on that little outdoor patio and have a glass of wine to yourself. If you’re feeling sentimental, think about the dreams you have and the dreams of the people around you. Hell, if some dreams are destined to be the same, try to imagine how yours will be different. Perhaps others haven’t figured out what their dreams are just yet — they just know they want to be in this city when they finally have their mid-20’s epiphany. And then you throw up your arms because this can’t be what a coming-of-age story feels like at 25. Maybe it’s a fever dream of sorts.
The term “fever dream” is defined as a particularly intense or confusing dream brought on by a fever. There’s also this really rad 1948 Ray Bradbury short story about a teenager who claims his body is being infected by microbes that are not only causing his illness, but literally taking over his body and forming a new being. However, his doctor waves away the teenager’s concerns and tells him it’s probably just a bad fever dream. It’s left open at the end whether or not they take over his body, but the themes involving childhood fears of isolation and distrust of adults are there. And it makes for a good comparison in this case. Because after I embraced the culture of this place, I fell in love with a loveless city. L.A. life dove deep into my DNA and made a home for itself. I can’t seem to shake it — not even when I go to sleep at night. I want to experience everything that this place has to offer. Put me in the car with a Griswolds CD mix and send me to the moon. I’ll send you a postcard 3000 miles away from a beach somewhere.
Because Los Angeles is its own kind of fever dream. It sinks under your skin — its vanity and self-worth, its who-do-you-work for tediousness that tells you and me and everyone we know just how well we’re doing in our careers. It won’t cause physical illness (unless you eat too much Umami Burger) but it’ll change you, secretly and silently. The parties will get weirder while the drugs will get more intense (Hey, you’ve done coke but have you tried ketamine? Don’t worry I haven’t!). You’ll start judging your friends who don’t live in LA. You won’t understand why they don’t live near the beach — or have a better quality of life in their 20’s.
You’ll take more photos. You’ll go to shows and concerts and films and want to show the world just what a party this life can be.
I started writing out here so I could get a better understanding of this city and the people that inhabit it. Writers and artists, porn stars and filmmakers, feminists and freelance PA’s, struggling actors and screenwriting Uber drivers — they all have stories. Models are fascinating also (What are you good at? Being pretty of course). Some of these stories are more interesting than others, but I will tell you it is nearly impossible to hate someone whose story you know. You’ll hear stories about the lives of these people around you and it’ll make you wonder when your next great adventure will take place. But I’ve been addicted to the stories of others who came to this city and hung their hopes on finding something real.
Despite the fact that New York has felt like such a leftover memory from the past, I realize it’s not my place to judge the friends that settled there. Your 20’s are perhaps the strangest days of your life and how you spend them is your choice and your choice alone.
But if there’s one thing I can ask of you, Dear Reader, is that you embrace the life you never planned on. Everything will be left in the details of your lost dreams if you do. Choose not to stay in the hometown you grew up in. Choose not to be safe and secure and predictable. Pick a place you can live that inspires you to write or to read or to work your ass off in. Don’t put a timeline on your 20’s and worry that you’ll die alone. Chances are that won’t happen.
Be uncomfortable and weird and wonderful. And be kind to one another. Honestly, I can’t imagine a crazier year than 2016.
I have lived here for three years. Thank you for reading these silly stories because some of it has been very wonderful and some of it has been tragic and some of it is very hard to put into words. But you have completely changed my life for the better, California.
Until the fuckin wheels come off,
this sap of a human
is faithfully yours Los Angeles,
Matt
