Los Angeles and Youth

Those of you keeping up with my posts may note that I have been mining my past for material, which is not all that surprising given my age and what I have been reading. Along these lines, in my research I have come across a rather trivial book called the Hollywood Handbook, a collection of disparate contributions edited by the owner of the Chateau Marmont, André Balazs. Incidentally, if you have never had the pleasure of visiting the Chateau Marmont then I highly recommend it; I used to attend poetry readings at this most idiosyncratic and idyllic of Los Angeles hotels and loved it. The history of the property is fascinating: Howard Hughes, Billy Wilder, Greta Garbo, numerous film producers, rock bands of all sorts, all had a relationship to this structure. But let me take leave of the Chateau for other parts of the Los Angeles of my twenties in order to make a point about time and place.

A favorite memory of mine is following the winding asphalt of Mulholland Drive after midnight with a female friend so glamorous she even managed to make smoking look good. Taking a slow drag on her Camel cigarette, she would tell me about the life and boyfriends she left on the East Coast, all the while carefully navigating the blind corners and sharp turns above the lights of Hollywood just below us. If I had to define what stylish meant then I would put forth A----- and her late night drives. These might be my best examples of urban cool filtered through youthful angst and childhood trauma, and is there anything more glamorously LA than that?

I also used to spend time in the coffee houses around La Brea Boulevard. Before Keanu became as famous as he is now, he used to frequent the first of many favorite java joints—the Living Room. His antique motorcycle parked out front was often the sign that he was on the scene. We all knew who he was, but he seemed to have very little attitude and liked conversation, though unofficial LA policy was to ignore the famous unless the individual in question initiated contact. And no, he and I never chatted.

Somehow, Hollywood only grew more intriguing the seedier it became. For instance, I used to frequent a club in an older section of town. Standing outside this old building, with a nondescript bathhouse across the street, cinematic history seemed tangible, maybe because the patina of abuse and degradation were etched so clearly in the architecture and neighborhood. My desperation for living and that marking the city itself aligned themselves in a frightening and fascinating way.

If you have never lived in Los Angeles then you cannot appreciate the tranquility that descends on the city after 2:00 a.m. At the right time of the year, the sounds of traffic fade and the night air takes on this deliciously thick quality. Another favorite memory is listening to a Cowboy Junkies album at this late hour around a card table full of wine glasses, the screen door the only barrier between the four of us and the whispered invitation of a late night in Los Angeles. Mercy, I love moments like that one. In fact, I think my appreciation of great conversation was crystallized on this evening, and has led in a rather circuitous route to graduate school.

Jumping back to the present moment, I want to draw a connection. Namely my afternoon today was spent in the company of some good friends watching World Cup football (soccer to the Yanks), and then discussing life, school, and love over beer at a favorite pub. These moments of my thirties are likely to be grist for the mill of my future selves, although I don’t know if my fascination with geography and space will be amalgamated in the same fashion that I have done with Los Angeles here. In truth, I miss aspects my California youth, though I no longer desire to return to the individual I was then. All of which is to say that neither time nor place are experienced simply or solely at the moment at which they are lived. Rather, they are layered, revisited, and re-experienced in countless ways. (By the way, if these ideas about space seem interesting then I suggest Doreen Massey’s essay, “A Global Sense of Place”.)

What say you readers: How does the past and space inform the present and shape your futures?