Apathy has set in like a dystrophic dew upon the hearts of men and women in this city. We name drop, drive fancy cars, live on credit, and pretend as if we are in the Hamptons. But really, is that what Los Angeles really is, a beach full of degenerates who use daddy's money to try and forget that daddy doesn't love us. I get it, fucking, drinking, and snorting beats wallowing in sadness. That doesn't mean that that's all that is out there. The existential life we are presented here doesn't have to be real, if we choose to change our reality. But that's the thing, we buy in, and with time the expense we've exhausted becomes too hard to walk away from. They know you now, you saw Dennis Rodman the other night, and you know every club owner. Why walk away from it when you're on top?
That's probably why I can't stand the people here, because no one realizes that we're blessed with a curse. Everybody knows this fucking place. You go anywhere in the world and say you're from Los Angeles, and they hand you their first born so you can pass it along to Brangelina for a chance at a "real" life. But look around, how many of your friends, your family, your co-workers really believe the dream? Everywhere you look it's red carpet, glitz, glamour, high-class food, and fucking Paris. If I had to guess, I'd say her IQ matches her freshly minted breasts. But it doesn't matter, because we're dumber than her for buying in, looking around aimlessly until we're that bar hag or that wino in the corner reminicising about that time we saw Steven Spielberg and he said "hello". They're people, not demi-gods, not idols, not even pillars of humanity. Just people. We made them, because we can't help it. Maybe we don't have a Royal Family, so we need to create them; maybe we want to hype ourselves into believing we're part of the "scene"?
Nope, the answer is far sadder than that. You, maybe even we, can't be happy existing, the concept of "being" is not enough, we need some sort of definitive breakdown in order to compare ourselves to someone else. That is why Beverly Hills exists (shitty traffic, and constant air pollution), that is why Spago is popular (are you fucking kidding me?), and that is why Sunset is our Shangri-La (temple of sorrows, if anything). You people just don't get it, because on your death bed, when someone asks you if you're on team Jen or Angelina, I swear to you you'll either cry or deck someone. Oh well, to each his own, until you realize that Gretta Garbo, Frank Sinatra, and Marilyn Monroe where once Hollywood, and your parents idolized them.
Hendrix has a vodka, Che Guevara is on children's clothing, Carey Grant is hawking Coca Cola, and the philosophy of most Angelinos ends up at True Religion.
Oh, and fuck daddy...
