Bookstores and Birthdays
Saturday was the day that just kept giving. Though tainted by the painful sting of two dozen photos shot sans memory card, July 12th--my sister's twenty-fourth birthday--revealed Los Angeles to be a city brimming not only with garbage, but with extraordinary surprises. Starting our day on something of book hunt, Megan and I scribbled down a list of independent sellers and headed out the door and into Hollywood sometime around noon. During our trip we found a fully-stocked costume shop, a gallery featuring works culled directly from the pages of Juxtapoz, an all-import Japanese clothing store dubbed "Pop Killer," and a Larchmont Village coffeeshop that offered apricot-flavored tea and a curbside view of LA's finest plastic surgery.
Today was one of those days to explore without a map.
When, at the entrance to one store we recognized that our destination wasn't actually a typical used bookseller but a specialty, West Hollywood queer interest shop, there was little choice but to enter and have a look around. In one corner of the bookstore William Shatner's autobiography was displayed prominently. Though I considered picking up a shirt that read, "Brokeback Since Wayback," I ultimately was unable to justify the purchase.
To add to this already surreal scene, on the drive home we cruised beneath a billboard blessed with a Kaws piece.
At home my California ID had arrived in the mail along with a few early birthday cards for Megan. My dreads are down in the photo so that whenever I cut them off I'll have something truly substantial to show the doubters. Though it's a bit novel, owning a California driver's license feels dangerous. There's something foreign and lost and completely unforgiving about that flimsy yellow piece of plastic. On the bright side I'll no longer have to make small talk with any cashier or bouncer who gets smart about my home state.
The evening ended with a trip to the library and HK Super, the greatest market in all of Los Angeles. Only four miles east of Hollywood, these Korean grocers manage to fiercely undercut the competition: miso paste, for example, costs two dollars per tub, a discount of nearly five dollars on natural food retailers like Erewhon, the most overpriced joke of a lifestyle store I've ever seen (after checking a few pricestags I understood why the place was so empty). In addition to reasonably priced food, HK Super boasts an enormous "Welcome to Los Angeles" graffiti mural incorporating freeways, wildstyle and an alien. It's also two blocks from our apartment.
I took a few more pictures and will try to keep up with things a bit better for the rest of the summer. Though this city can be shitty, poor circumstances are no reason to neglect the camera--I only wish I could turn my lens on the ghetto bird and end up with a decent shot.
brett at 02:35 AM on July 13, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0)