the return of the l.a. blogger

I know, it's been an eternity since I last wrote...and it's not because nothing has happened. I've been in Los Angeles for just over two weeks. I have yet to get lost (okay, I've had to turn around a couple of times, but I haven't had any major navigation problems). I also have yet to see any celebrities...and it's not like I have been looking for them. I'm told they're everywhere. Yeah, they are if you count Reese Witherspoon's enormous head on countless billboards and buses.

Basically I've been insanely busy trying to find housing. I had a place, it fell through (long story, but let's just say it wasn't my fault), and now I'm scrambling to find something. I'm not desperate in the sense that I have a place to stay and no pressure from my hosts to move, but school has already started and things are going to escalate quickly. For my own sanity and comfort, I need to move. Yet, I won't take just anything. I've had offers that I've had to refuse because the situation just didn't seem right. I'm feeling optimistic about a couple of places in Silverlake (one in particular), so let's just keep our fingers crossed.

Oh, and by the way, I'm not homesick. Except for maybe air conditioning. It's absolutely ridiculous that I sweat to death on a daily basis. It isn't even that hot outside (by my standards; remember, I was born and raised in effectively a reclaimed swamp and surrounding areas), but with the angle and intensity of the sun, all that damn heat gets trapped in buildings that aren't air conditioned because they don't need to be 49 weeks out of the year. I'm learning to deal with it, and I bought a fan. Though I'm writing this for you in the comfort of the very cold lounge in Lewis Hall on USC's campus.

finally!

Well, I've done it. I'm now a resident of Los Angeles. The flight was okay, but I once I got off the plane I realized how horrible I felt. I haven't been sick in such a long time, and of course it has to happen with such big tasks at hand. Waiting for my luggage wasn't fun either. Now I know why I never check anything. Stay tuned for more details.

9 songs: a tale of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll (or perhaps it's just sex)

Today, in what was my last trip downtown before the big move, Allie and I saw 9 Songs at the E Street Cinema. It is what it is. I can't stand gratuitous sex, but well, it wasn't gratuitous because the film is what it is. You don't know what it is? Perhaps you should Google it. Start by clicking the link above.

I would say that we were the only women in attendance but there was an androgynous audience member that moved around a couple of times. Discounting that one, the rest of the patrons were middle-aged and senior-citizen men. I don't think they were there to see the music portion, if you know what I mean. To their credit, they weren't creepy. I saw much creepier men of the same generation(s) at Inside Deep Throat.

At any rate, the film was clearly made by a man for men to watch. All of the attention was on the woman's body (which resembled a very tall little boy more than anything else). The guy, however, was well endowed. I think we know why he made that movie.

i ♥ irony, but you knew that

It's been eons since I posted, I know. I'm sorry, but I've been busy. There's this little matter of moving across the country that I've had to attend to while still tying up a lot of loose ends with my previous degree (thank god the thesis is completely done and over with...uploaded and everything).

My last post was about waiting for the fucking idiotic autoshipper to arrive. That was one long story I really don't want to recount, but as Allie says, it really was straight out of a movie. But luckily, I got a call today informing me the car made it safe and sound. Phew.

I got that call while I was at the National Building Museum, which is my favorite museum. Never heard of it? I'm not surprised. Anyway, I had made a couple of stops downtown to return things I borrowed for my thesis, and just had to make sure I went there again. They have the best gift shop, and for once I actually bought something for myself. I got this awesome photo-holding mobile (not the cheap thing that looks like oversized paperclips on string) but they had to give me the floor model so it's being shipped to L.A. (probably better that way). Plus, I bought two posters. I really wanted something iconic (to me, not the world) of D.C. to hang on my walls. I really want a large Metrorail map, but it looks like those aren't sold through the web anymore. Anyway, I got the L'Enfant Plan. Perhaps not the most colorful (it isn't) thing in the world, but it's symbolic for many reasons. AND I got this Art-Deco poster made for a Smithsonian traveling exhibit (NBM isn't Smithsonian so I'm not exactly sure why they had it) called Hollywood: Legend and Reality. I don't think I need to point out the irony there. If you get it, great, if you don't, you should probably read more.