N.B.

This is city is a visual feast. Plasma-screen billboards, jacaranda trees in full lavender bloom, high-end sports cars, birds 'o paradise, ocean waves crashing against the glass of your restaurant window, dusty mustard-flowered mountains, bums with towering, pungent shopping carts, outdoor farmers markets with piles of produce in perfect rainbow symmetry, museum flags flapping on light poles with David's Bonaparte rearing up on a battle steed against the smoggy sky, film crews, drag queens, Dan Ackroyd at the corner vegan bakery, a basin of lights, of apartment buildings, of cars, of fancy strollers and yoga mats tucked under elbows.

Los Angeles hogs all the space on the limited hard drive of your brain and slows down the whole operating system. It makes boredom an impossibility.

-- Megan McMillan, "White Noise" (Megan and Murray McMillan).

Comments

[R J Keefe]

The second paragraph can be taken to mean something profoundly unflattering to Angelenos. But quite aside from the utility of boredom, there is an emphasis on the visual in this hymn that frightens me.

[Quicquid]

But that's exactly what I like about the place. On the other hand, I don't have to live there and never have to accomplish anything significant when I visit. Which, again, is much the point of my going.

[George]

I can spend so much time here, all of it so well spent.
Thanks for your effort.

[rannva]

Sometimes at night if you drive along Sunset through Beverly Hills and the sprinklers are on, it smells like after the rain. People who have lawns are lucky.