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The
good doctors at Cedars of Lebanon were kind enough to deliver me at a
reasonable morning hour courtesy of a caesarean section. A certain individual
once told me that the reason I was so 'beautiful' (his words - not mine)
was because of this (C-section) operation. I wasn't squeezed or pulled
through that narrow birth canal - which he apparently felt altered a person's
appearance. A rather odd statement and thought process for light conversation,
so I just smiled and took it as a compliment. My Mother wanted to hold
off on the surgery just one more day (so I could share the same birthday
as my Grandmere), but that was not to be. None the less, Grandmere and
I shared a great many birthdays together before she passed away and I
now have a personal special tradition I do each year to celebrate our
birthdays. |
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I
have lived in almost every major Southern California beach city from Manhattan
Beach to Hermosa Beach to Huntington Beach to Newport Beach and then to
beautiful Laguna Beach. I quickly learned that the farther one travels
south, the slower things get - including the people! Seriously! With this
southernly direction I was heading, I decided to stop at San Clemente
before reaching San Diego. San Clemente was slow enough and my trips to
San Diego for work reinforced my south=slow theory. I had this fear I
would somehow end up across the border in Enseñada by the time
I reached 50 years old. And while it may sound nice, it certainly wasn't
where I envisioned myself to be - slowing down my pace... just to keep
up. |
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and after being falsely trained and cruely mislead to believe I was 'really' climbing the corporate ladder in the Visual world of retail, I made arrangements to leave the O.C. and move north to L.A. to live with my partner and pursue corporate America. Having the retail rug yanked from underneath myself by jealous and 'threatened' corporate brown-nosers with little-to-no creative talent left me with burns - topped with salt! My partner reassured me not to worry, to stick with my plans to move, and then concentrate on my artistic endeavours. So, following the 405 to the 605 to the 5 to the 101, I found myself living in the self-proclaimed 'creative city' called West Hollywood. First impressions of West Hollywood can be a bit overwhelming for a gay man. There were guys walking down the boulevard together - holding hands (gasp) and showing affection towards one another (another gasp). And this was acceptable? All of the things I had dreamed about in a perfect, make-believe gay-accepted world seemed to be a reality... to some extent, within reason... and location. There was also an ugliness underneath that still makes my skin crawl - cleverly hidden behind the faces of 'neighbors' and 'hard working' city officials. I soon learned that the only thing truly 'creative' in West Hollywood was the city's approach to revenue enhancement - parking tickets! |
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and
in a decade, I watched a city transform before me as I tried to adapt.
Adaptation in a city like West Hollywood can be a daunting task. Unless
(of course) you happen to be part of that 'clickish' group of individuals
better known as the 'Top A' model crowd - the gym-bunnies, circuit boys,
the bold & beautiful, who know someone who knows Herb Ritts (God rest
his Soul) who knows Madonna or someone who trains her. Yawn. It seemed
like a waste of time trying to fit in and be with the 'in-crowd'. If you
reached that malevolent plateau of acceptance, your longevity within was
monitored, if not scrutinized by those superior 'higher-ups'. If they
only knew that higher-up wasn't a contest for substance abuse. After a long and draining battle with a former scumlord and those 'oh-so-helpful' people at City Hall, a forced relocation (also known as 'owner-occupation', not eviction) became a blessing in disguise that brought me back to my roots (natural brown). I now reside in the 'Entertainment Capital of the World' - my birthplace: HOLLYWOOD. Horray for that! |
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