California Diary 1

LA: 8th August 7.30am

The coffee is very good here. Strong and long. Even the cigarettes taste better with the java. The fruit is fresher too; it all looks like some commercial, ripe and irresistible, a Sainsbury's wet dream.

I am still suffering from the jetlag. Drunk a bottle of Napa Valley Merlot last night. A lone man on a mission with some cheese and bread. All in an attempt to sleep deep. Woke up at 5am under an ice blue sky with the radio playing Debussy.

Yesterday was a day to reacquaint myself with a city that I know so well. This is the 7th time that I have been here and it never fails me. Because I am here on my own for a few days there were things to do solo, supplies to be bought. Books to read and freeways to cross. I went for a walk over the Hyperburn Bridge, The LA River below me, and a Steinbeck sun above. It felt great.

I stopped at a Mexican cantina for a burrito and a coke and listened to jaunty accordion music on the tinny radio. Did some food shopping and some people staring. I was being seduced by the everyday California already. It happens every time. It only takes a smile.

There is a great charity thrift shop around the corner. It's massive. All money raised goes to an AIDS foundation. I was in there for over an hour, bought a cool shirt for three dollars, and could have spent a lot more. They were playing eighties pop music. I sang along to the hits of Kajagogo, Haircut 100 and the Clash as I sifted through the rails. I nearly bought a sheepskin jacket. It looked like the one that Jon Voight wears in Midnight Cowboy. Would have been cumbersome to carry around with me for a couple of weeks. May go back later in the week to get it and cut a deal.

I got on a local bus in the late afternoon and went down to the Glendale Galleria. It's a shopping Mall the size of Brixton. There were kids being cool with there mobiles and eating ice cream. No one seemed to be buying anything at all, just walking around grinning. They are all on medication I think. It was like a Brett Eastern Ellis novel. Cargo pants are still de rigour here.

Tried to get in touch with Troy in the evening. Some of you know all about Troy, whose real name is not Troy at all, but someone who is very famous now but was just a kid when I first met him fifteen years ago. He was out of town and could not be located. Probably forgotten about me completely now. I should stop hunting ghosts.

Today I think I'll get on the bus and go downtown. I love it there. Historic buildings and the new Getty Museum. There is a wonderful restaurant that I have been to many times that is an LA Treasure. It's a place where they just sell chops, potatoes and green beans. All the staff are deaf and over sixty. They are actors who never cut the mustard and now just serve it.

More later.