The Book Of Life

Despite the fact that I spent between two and three hours in a car today and visited two strip malls, I still like being in LA.

This morning I met a very friendly casting associate for Center Theater Group (The Taper, Douglas, Ahmanson theaters), which I've discovered is within biking distance of the house. Then I bought some tabi in Little Tokyo and managed to get home without getting lost or consulting the Thomas Guide (I did, however, consult the boyfriend). I spent 35 minutes trying to decide where to park during my audition, looking for the elusive garage where I could utter the magic word "actor" and receive a miraculous discount.

Then I drove with Tony to Northridge, a phenomenally bland suburban splotch on the face of the San Fernando Valley. I read Chuck Mee's Salome and 30 or so pages of Declan Donellan's The Actor and the Target and I experienced one of the major cultural traditions of the region: the manicure/pedicure. Nowhere else (except het porn, most of which is made in the San Fernando Valley anyway) have I seen so many long, square, acrylic, French manicured nails. There was a mother/daughter pair in the salon. When offered a refreshing, Splenda-filled cup of Lipton on a hot and humid day the mother replied, "No, we can't eat or drink anything today." "Oh, yes!" the Vietnamese receptionist replied knowingly. "But it's my daughter's birthday today too, [so we're atoning through acetone.]" Okay, I paraphrase here and, frankly, I'm not one to talk because...

My tribe membership card has officially been revoked. I had a feast last night. A feast after sundown on Yom Kippur. Chicken meatballs, homemade pasta, mixed greens with sheep's milk ricotta and green zebra and heirloom cherry tomatoes. Tea and dried papaya and a little bit of chocolate for dessert.

Do I still get to keep the last name "Cohen"?

Will I make it into the Book of life this year or will I be resigned to the tabloids? The masterpiece or the doodle pad? The well preserved parchment or the used toilet paper? Must I continue to flagellate myself daily for an entire year? Well, at least until I get back to NY where I can be a practicing Jew by osmosis.

Here are some things in LA I really like:

1) the chicken (apparently, there are two, but I've only seen one) that belongs to Tony's neighbors and roams the front yard. I don't know if it has a name already, but I've decided to call it Antigone. Or perhaps Bob. I've got to get to know it better.

2) the pomegranate bush, also in the front yard

yum.
3) Tony shuffling around the house in his green and blue polka dot boxers


I'm also thrilled to discover that downtown and the Anusara studio in Silverlake are both within easy biking distance. I look forward to having my bike here. Then I can join the exclusive ranks of LA cyclists (or is it psychopaths?).