Westward

I travel to Los Angeles, first class and with a rented car waiting to take me to a hotel on Sunset Strip. I will disport myself there for two weeks before returning home. Much time will be spent with my friends, and a good deal on my own. Perhaps I will even venture to get a new bathing suit, which I haven’t done in ages, and sit at the pool with the Drunken Youth all day. But I am too chunky for that, and I suppose they ingest more than alcohol.

I could go to Santa Barbara, but do what? Interrupt my friends’ lives? I shall probably end up at Disneyland, wherein I can find a ready-made community with prepared activities and an insistence on light-heartedness. I could shop too much at Tower Records if it hasn’t gone out of business yet. I could find a beach. I could find Rodeo Drive. I could look for houses to rent, and proceed not to rent any.

At the hotel, with a lovely eastward view of Sunset, and lots of little buildings below. Sun is out, and it is actually hot outside. Time to enjoy….