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14.1.03

it felt incredibly apropos that this afternoon, driving home in a fog [literally] from a meeting with a record exec, that i proceeded to listen to luna's newest album in its entirety playing on kxlu. i could have sworn that sort of thing is illegal, but couldn't really care less - after listening to this guy talk about how now is the worst possible time to be vaguely considering working in the record business, well, yeah.

also perfect that on my last afternoon in los angeles, after an altogether too-extended stay, i found myself wiping cobwebs from my brain in preparation for my return to new york - while driving through them in the vehicle.

it's been an interesting trip. in a certain way, i feel as though i've made some peace with myself - listening to everyone go on & on about why film is evil in an enthusiastic tone of voice has been a bit overwhelming, to say the least - but also a bit expected & welcomed. we all know that having made the decision to work in an industry populated almost entirely by power- & money-hungry mysogenists [both male & female], life will verge on unpleasant & generally weird. but i've rarely felt so much excitement from people upon mentioning my aspirations... rather than scoffing, these fuckers are enthused - enthused to talk about what they've done & what they do, enthused to hear that i'm interested, & enthused to help me out. & that's the best part... it's like being welcomed into a huge, dysfunctional, abusive family - with one arm open & fingers crossed behind their backs, they open the triple-bolted door, all of us knowing full well the chaos that lives within.


enough metaphorical bullshit - i find la to have a weird chemical in the air that leads one to think in terms of psychics, futures & fortunes, metaphysical metaphors & "finding" meaning in all the wrong places - i dunno if it's the fact that yesterday on my way to ICM i walked past not one but three psychics, willing to read your palm your cards your ass for all i know to tell you your "future" - but this place is steeped in what strikes me as the wrong kind of mysticism. rather than find it around you in the strangest places, it's served on platters to people too bored with their own existence to bother looking for, well, anything that isn't already there.

again i'm making generalisations, which i sorta resolved to do less. but perhaps we can call them observations instead?



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