Alright, lets talk about me. Here I sit, sipping a lovely rose in my kitchen, hammering out my latest journal entry after a lovely day of living like some rich Los Angeles affluent (or effluviant, depending on your politics) and really, the rose sums it all up, the whole day: It's rare that I find one that I care for, and when I do, I grab it, unless of course it's far enough outside my range that I know I would feel guilty about it for the rest of the week.
It started when I woke up, after having set my clock improperly for my "nap" yesterday after I got home from work and I wound up sleeping longer than I had in years. If I were better versed in how these seemingly coincidental affairs tend to symbolize specific trends in my lifestyle, I might have know to watch out for temptation today, but as it was I called on my housemate Mark, who I always tend to spend more money around than I really have a right to anyway, and ask if he would like to take lunch at Alegria, which I had been dying to try for over a week now as I had heard they served incredible mole, and that they were extremely cheap. It turned out to be half right.
The mole was amazing, but it cost me much more than the half-dollar sign I saw in Jonathan Golds review would have, I assumed, indicated I was to spend on a meal there. What's more, the portions weren't particularly big, and they only accepted cash, a fact of which Mark was unaware, leading to me paying for his meal as well.
After leaving the restaurant, Mark commented on what a nice day it was and how he was in no real hurry to get back to the house, and as that's usually the case with me, I offered to show him around some of my favorite spots in Silver Lake. We started things off at Town and Country, a restaurant where I very nearly worked and which tends to have some choice morsels in it's dessert case, in this instance I decided to partake in some of their wonderful banana pudding while being waited on by a new member of the staff who, unlike most that worked there, didn't know me from Adam. She was one of the many adorable little Silver Lake lesbians, a crowd to which I grow increasingly fond as I spend more and more time there, watching them walk about hand in hand, laughing and being attractive, not a square of plaid to be found among them.
Next we swung down to the Cheese Store, more for me than for poor Mark who, I had forgotten, can't abide by the scent of cheese, much in the same vein as my own distaste for the scent of cooking cabbage. I didn't purchase any cheese, nor any of the wonderful sandwiches they make there, though even having just eaten I was a bit tempted to, but instead purchased the bottle of rose that I mentioned before after talking for a while with the wine vendor that works there, a lovely chap with an accent that's either aussie or Robin Leach, but I can scarcely tell which.
We then went to gape at kicks in the shoe store next door, myself finding some Vans that I was highly fond of and which I may return for on the benefit of my first full paycheck, and then at the thrift store just across the street, before poking our heads into the Giant Robot store where Mark found a t-shirt that he considered, and is still considering buying. However, on ending this tour of the junction, we were yet dissatisfied with our explorations, and decided to head down to Melrose, where we could do much of the same for a much greater length. I was excited at this prospect as it would give me a chance to swing into the Villiage Idiot and see if there were any charming indie girls lounging about.
Once we arrived, I insisted that we poke our heads into both Necromance locations, where the somewhat snooty goth chicks that run the place proved to be moderately helpful as we looked at various items, however I eventually decided that I was still to unfamiliar with the business at hand to make any sure purchases that might be of use, and instead we made our way to Floyd's Barbershop, where I bought some shit to put in my hair and grabbed one of their brochures, which made me consider stopping in there before my next trip to the VI, but more on that later.
Next stop was Wasteland, likely my favorite secondhand store in L.A., where I found a G-Star Raw jacket that felt and looked like it was tailored for me for only 75$, with a few stains around the lapel that I'm pretty sure my boss's dry-cleaner can get out for me. We crossed the street and, at my friends interest, looked in at the Posers store, where I found a knee-length peacoat that looked better on me than any item of clothing I've tried on in the last year or two. I ask the sales lady how much it cost and she informed me that it was $400, far outside my price range. I mentioned this, and she offered to drop it to $375, or to put it on layaway, which I said was still much too much for me, at which point she basically ask me how much was too much, and I named a price that she refused to pay. I said I would come back for it later, and found (and, yes, still find) myself unable to stop thinking about it, and doubt that I will until it rests comfortably in my dresser.
Finally we made our way to the old VI, though it was still a bit earlier than I had though it would be, and the number of folks, attractive as they were, was pretty low. It wasn't that bad, really, since I realized as we stepped in that I was dressed like a complete shlub, in an ill-fitting Thundercats tee and unintentionally torn jeans, my hair still in disarray as the shmutz I had bought for it only made it look greasy and thin, so I grabbed a menu, we left, and I vowed to return soon, with more friends and a better, more appropriate wardrobe and attitude. And then I came home and poured myself some rose.
I wish more days could be so easy, for myself and everyone.
It started when I woke up, after having set my clock improperly for my "nap" yesterday after I got home from work and I wound up sleeping longer than I had in years. If I were better versed in how these seemingly coincidental affairs tend to symbolize specific trends in my lifestyle, I might have know to watch out for temptation today, but as it was I called on my housemate Mark, who I always tend to spend more money around than I really have a right to anyway, and ask if he would like to take lunch at Alegria, which I had been dying to try for over a week now as I had heard they served incredible mole, and that they were extremely cheap. It turned out to be half right.
The mole was amazing, but it cost me much more than the half-dollar sign I saw in Jonathan Golds review would have, I assumed, indicated I was to spend on a meal there. What's more, the portions weren't particularly big, and they only accepted cash, a fact of which Mark was unaware, leading to me paying for his meal as well.
After leaving the restaurant, Mark commented on what a nice day it was and how he was in no real hurry to get back to the house, and as that's usually the case with me, I offered to show him around some of my favorite spots in Silver Lake. We started things off at Town and Country, a restaurant where I very nearly worked and which tends to have some choice morsels in it's dessert case, in this instance I decided to partake in some of their wonderful banana pudding while being waited on by a new member of the staff who, unlike most that worked there, didn't know me from Adam. She was one of the many adorable little Silver Lake lesbians, a crowd to which I grow increasingly fond as I spend more and more time there, watching them walk about hand in hand, laughing and being attractive, not a square of plaid to be found among them.
Next we swung down to the Cheese Store, more for me than for poor Mark who, I had forgotten, can't abide by the scent of cheese, much in the same vein as my own distaste for the scent of cooking cabbage. I didn't purchase any cheese, nor any of the wonderful sandwiches they make there, though even having just eaten I was a bit tempted to, but instead purchased the bottle of rose that I mentioned before after talking for a while with the wine vendor that works there, a lovely chap with an accent that's either aussie or Robin Leach, but I can scarcely tell which.
We then went to gape at kicks in the shoe store next door, myself finding some Vans that I was highly fond of and which I may return for on the benefit of my first full paycheck, and then at the thrift store just across the street, before poking our heads into the Giant Robot store where Mark found a t-shirt that he considered, and is still considering buying. However, on ending this tour of the junction, we were yet dissatisfied with our explorations, and decided to head down to Melrose, where we could do much of the same for a much greater length. I was excited at this prospect as it would give me a chance to swing into the Villiage Idiot and see if there were any charming indie girls lounging about.
Once we arrived, I insisted that we poke our heads into both Necromance locations, where the somewhat snooty goth chicks that run the place proved to be moderately helpful as we looked at various items, however I eventually decided that I was still to unfamiliar with the business at hand to make any sure purchases that might be of use, and instead we made our way to Floyd's Barbershop, where I bought some shit to put in my hair and grabbed one of their brochures, which made me consider stopping in there before my next trip to the VI, but more on that later.
Next stop was Wasteland, likely my favorite secondhand store in L.A., where I found a G-Star Raw jacket that felt and looked like it was tailored for me for only 75$, with a few stains around the lapel that I'm pretty sure my boss's dry-cleaner can get out for me. We crossed the street and, at my friends interest, looked in at the Posers store, where I found a knee-length peacoat that looked better on me than any item of clothing I've tried on in the last year or two. I ask the sales lady how much it cost and she informed me that it was $400, far outside my price range. I mentioned this, and she offered to drop it to $375, or to put it on layaway, which I said was still much too much for me, at which point she basically ask me how much was too much, and I named a price that she refused to pay. I said I would come back for it later, and found (and, yes, still find) myself unable to stop thinking about it, and doubt that I will until it rests comfortably in my dresser.
Finally we made our way to the old VI, though it was still a bit earlier than I had though it would be, and the number of folks, attractive as they were, was pretty low. It wasn't that bad, really, since I realized as we stepped in that I was dressed like a complete shlub, in an ill-fitting Thundercats tee and unintentionally torn jeans, my hair still in disarray as the shmutz I had bought for it only made it look greasy and thin, so I grabbed a menu, we left, and I vowed to return soon, with more friends and a better, more appropriate wardrobe and attitude. And then I came home and poured myself some rose.
I wish more days could be so easy, for myself and everyone.