In the Summer of 2017, I…
Dear Reader,
In the summer of 2017, I took too many polaroids. I drank too much tequila and I got sunburned. I didn’t write as many letters to all my friends but I wrote a feature length screenplay in five days. I finished Friday Night Lights and jumped into a lot of pools. In the summer of 2017, I didn’t do nearly as many drugs as I did during the summer of 2015. I finished books and started new ones. I saw Tom Petty and the Alabama Shakes in concert. I missed one or two souls in New York. I burned many more CD mixes for car rides with songs by Urban Cone,Haim,Wolf Alice, Arcade Fire and Bleachers. I listened to albums all the way through without skipping a song.
In the summer of 2017 I talked about my childhood and fell more in love with a dazzling feminist. I saw Baby Driver and Trainspotting 2 and Dunkirk. And re-watched Speed and L.A. Confidential and Four Weddings and a Funeral. I went to work day in and day out and barely sent an email or answered a phone. In the summer of 2017, I spent the days on the beach staring at the waves and the evenings at Little Doms staring at celebrities. I stared at photos and hit “like” on Instagram. I tried to pay my rent on time. I ate a lot of seafood and spent quality time at the Silver Lake salad bar at Gelsons off Hyperion Avenue. I bought tickets with money I didn’t have to see LCD Soundsystem in November. I rode my bike through Frogtown and stopped for some Mezcal along the way.
In the summer of 2017 I stopped caring about the 24/7 news cycle and realized it all meant nothing (or maybe it meant everything). I tried desperately to get in better shape while battling late night snacks of peanut butter and jelly rice cakes. I walked and ran and drove all over Los Angeles and tried to throw myself into as many oceans as I could. I stared at my computer with bloodshot eyes and wrote something that broke my heart until I was able to put it back together again. I took trips and traveled to Europe. I started wearing silly hats and buying more music on iTunes. I sat at a desk all day and did nothing. I related to lyrics, that began something with: “I need to be youthfully felt cause God I never felt young.”
In the summer of 2017, I drove down a Los Angeles highway, blasting John Mayer’s live performance of “GRAVITY” and felt like I saw the next 10 years of my life ahead of me in completely stunning, painful, gorgeous clarity. I wondered if this Los Angeles adventure was forever mine and mine forever and in that searing, single millisecond I wanted to hit the gas and drive down past the sea and into a sunset for the rest of my life. I wanted the next four years to be just a fucking magical as the last four.
I wanted to keep writing about our times, the good ones and bad. This Happily Whatever After.
I wanted the music, the car, and the road ahead. With you right next to me.
In the summer of 2017 I was complacent and lazy, bored and fascinated. I was more terrified for the future than I had ever been before.
In the Summer of 2017, I had been in Neverland for almost 1500 days. 1500 days of a life I had never planned on.
But then again, that’s probably why I was taking too many polaroids.
Till the wheels come off, dear reader.
Matt
