Dear California, remember that this is not a break up. How could I ever... You: so sensitive to my temperature needs, generously splattering your fancy rays of light all over the place like Pollack's #1 lab assist. You're small but big, mountainous but soft, lush but dry, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, you show me the love when I need it most. So, even when you're underdressed and over the top, unimpressively short yet sprawling, shakey and slidey, in debt but famous, I think you're perfect:
I love the way you knock me over on my bike with your Santa Ana winds. And how your sickly polluted skies look prettier than any shade of kool-aid ever invented. I love to think of ways to solve your strip-mall disease. I love that most arguments end at Zankou Chicken. I love that Silverlake is full of bloggers and I love how most Maseratis are borrowed and/or leased. I love how Venice beach is, just is.
I love how the mansions in the hills twinkle high in the blackness of night when you drive north on La Cienega Boulevard. I love that there's no Wall Street. I love how traveling with public transportation is an out-of-body experience until you get on the corporate stretch of Wilshire Boulevard. I love the Jewish Women's Council Thrift Shop because they gave me my favorite high waisted pants. I love that you gave me a place to make art and display it, even if it was next to Skid Row. And most of all, I love how I came to know you, from North to South, from 18 to 24. With you I found many loves.
Painting by Kimberly Brooks, also exhibiting at the Tarryn Teresa Gallery exhibition entitled, "All Under One Roof: A Selection of L.A. Artists".
Here's the event detail on facebook.