Part of loving Los Angeles is differentiating between the bizarre and the Day-of-the-Locust-depressing. For instance, I would rather sell kitchen cabinets as Batman than sell kitchen cabinets as myself. First of all there’s the good story factor: it’s more interesting to say, ‘When I first moved to Los Angeles, I sold stick-on wood laminate in a Batman suit’ than it is to say, ‘When I first moved to Los Angeles, I sold stick-on wood laminate.’ In fact, taking part in a ridiculous construct elevates almost anything to the floor above Sad Basement. Second of all, it takes a strong person to stow your pride in the overhead compartment and allow other people to be amused by your pain (you know, just like Pagliacci did). Being dumped is horrible. Being dumped while you’re stuck on the ferris wheel at the third street promenade with gum caught in your hair is halfway between horrible and — go with me — noble. There is nothing more honorable than submitting to the mind-boggling absurdity and often humiliating randomness of the universe. It’s like being the kind of person who can say something witty on his or her deathbed. It gives you the appearance of having accepted what’s usually considered unacceptable about being a human. Whether it’s performative or genuine is beside the point, because it’s the kind of performance that tricks you into believing it’s true if you stick with it long enough.
Los Angeles-based actor and writer
Tess Lynch. (via
latimes)
(via latimes)
| archive
theme by: restlessness
