50 pictomat essays: fear and loathing in l.a.
August 28, 2010, 9:46 am
Filed under: 50 pictomat essays

the ennis-brown house interior in ridley scott’s dystopic view of a future los angeles

there is a surreal disconnect in Los angeles between the city as is portrayed on television, which is, we believe is its most trusted version of itself, and the city that one can physically walk through. that is, of course, if anybody besides us actually walks. it is a city seen through t.v.s and cars and therein lies its skittish vision of itself. yesterday it was all weather, all the time. the 10:00, 11:00, … news had us continually anticipating a morbid heat wave, dangerously high surf at malibu, and flooding in the surrounding mountains. there is no relief from this deluge of impending doom. the result? nothing more than a slightly warmish night. today it was murder central. a man’s wife who hasn’t, it turns out today, been seen for three months, is suddenly missing, her husband is missing, too, but only since yesterday, when the police named him “a person of interest.”

living on the fault line does not bring out the most optimistic sentiments in a city that is in a perpetual state of sliding into the red sunset of the pacific ocean. that an ocean with such a southing sound should lap against such an angst ridden population is a sad thing to a oft returning visitor, such as ourself.

we walk. we look at the cozy bungalows. one on this block was built when walt disney’s “snow white” was first released. it has seven apartments, a thatched roof, and scattered round windows, the type little dwarves would stare out of, it they weren’t watching the 10:00a.m. news and making sure their security doors are double locked. we walk on by the lush plantings of tropical and colorful vegetation.

if we lived here, and we feel as if we very well could,we would turn off the news forever and an eternity and read rather judiciously. that means staying clear of raymond chandler’s pulp fiction of the 1940’s, because even then, when los angeles was at the very end of manifest destiny’s long march across the continent, the women in his novels like “the long goodbye” would get uneasy on hot summer nights when the warm santa anna’s swooped down the canyons. those wives would start fingering petite pearl handled guns they kept in their purses, and begin looking at their sleeping husband’s temples. perhaps there is nothing that can change the edgy temperament of this city.

it has been in a state of dystopia for quite some time.

[our pictomat font is malfunctioning on non-apple products. excuse our inconsistencies.]


1 Comment so far
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ok, first of all, i like the font. i love a serif, what can i say.

secondly, the city of the angels is definitely eliciting a flow of verbiage unlike your usual. your writing style is different, as is your perspective. not that you aren’t reflective on an average day, but this trip in particular has loosened something within you. i’m enjoying the commentary!

Comment by e

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