Well, it was quite a migration but the White Rabbit has finally landed on the wicked west coast. It has been a topsy turvy journey to get here, but all the good journeys are, right? In the past four years, I have moved a total of 11 times and have landed in the City of Angels, my ninth city I have called home. In the years preceding the big move, I was a company member at a Shakespeare company. I did stunts, swordfighting, and Shakespeare in Pennsylvania. I toured the lovely Carolinas with a touring production of A Christmas Carol. I moved to Florida for a warm and exquisite year. That place I miss. Living in a little bohemian artists' community called Gulfport, I could wake up in the morning to the sounds of my housemate playing mandolin, stroll through our garden dotted with giant metal sculptures done by our landlord, past the gypsy vardo that served as my housemate's bedroom and settle into a hammock strung between two palm trees where I drank my coffee and stared at the water lapping at our private beach. I hung out with actors, jammed with musicians and artists at our local hippie commune The Blueberry Patch, and got to do some amazing plays with some phenomenal performers.
By now you are probably asking yourself, why the hell did I leave? Well, the demise of a lengthy relationship coupled with my ever-present desire to make it to the west coast propelled me home to Kentucky where I dyed my hair red and bartended for a year, saving the money that would send me on my journey. I still miss Florida from time to time but, for those who know me well, it is rare that I can stay in one place for very long anyway. So, I packed everything I could into my Corolla named Gilda and headed on my way. I got to visit old friends in Chicago, catch up with an even older friend (from back in my childhood) in Kansas, and then I made my way to the exquisite Rocky Mountains. There I met up with a dear friend from Wales and we proceeded to traipse about the Denver/Boulder/National Park areas: spending a frigid night camping, hiking about and trying the countless delectable microbrews the great state of Colorado has to offer. From there I bid farewell to my Welsh amigo and sally'd forth onto Salt Lake City, spending time on Antelope Island (the best place to watch the sunset from in Salt Lake).
I truly cannot describe the constant visual stimulus you encounter when driving westward. Every view is so stunning that it is hard to believe it to be real, you find yourself thinking instead that someone has painted the horizon to be so extraordinary. After leaving the Rockies behind, I headed towards the Sierras where I encountered a road block. Snow in the mountains + I have no chains for tires = 3 hour detour through a lower elevation route. Still, the drive was pretty and I arrived, road weary and late, at a friend's house in San Francisco. I spent a few days there, skipping about the city, seeing shows, and participating in impromptu photoshoots. And finally I arrived (almost 3 weeks ago) in Los Angeles.
I am currently sleeping on a very attractive Ikea sleeper sofa, living with two fantastic friends in Eagle Rock. I am slowly getting my bearings but am already in love with this city. Sure it has its flaws (an insane obsession with beauty and skewed perception of what beauty actually is) but then you find yourself walking down the boardwalk in Venice Beach, passing a man dressed as a tree on stilts, various artists peddling their wares from blankets and booths, and a colorful cast of characters strolling along beside you. This, I can dig. So stay tuned. We only go further down the rabbit hole from here.
