I get a lot of incredulous looks from people when I tell them that I love LA, but I'll stand up to the haters--LA is great. It's wierd, and awful, and apocalyptic, and a disaster, but it's also vibrant and close to everything I love (surf, deserts, mountains, books, really awesome food, I could go on...). It's full of strange people who think they're normal. It's ecology is fascinating--there are vernal pools filled with threatened freshwater shrimp-things next to the runways at LAX! There are pockets of coastal sage scrub that persist in the face of all sorts of invasive species, as houses are built and torn down nearly on top of them! And god, the wetlands, the coastal ecosystems, the islands...
Anyway, I didn't mean to wax rhapsodic about LA just yet. I'll save that for the next few days here (though it's supposed to be 108 tomorrow everywhere but the coast, so I might be changing my tune quite shortly, once I've actually remembered what summer in SC is like).
But I don't know. At this point, LA feels more like home than anywhere else. I know it better than Boston, I like it better than most places I've been, and I can surf all the time--and unlike my dad, I don't get sick everytime I go in the water, which is nice.
I meant to post this like 2 weeks ago, so it's going up now, without revisions--more later!
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