This is what it's all about

This is for the girls of my fake book club. I see you every six weeks and tell you everything, you are my human diaries. This is for Kevin who lives up the street from me, a Brentwood fellow, thanks for inviting me to your birthday bonfire tonight. The ocean roared behind me and I felt safe and small and warm. And high above me, planes occasionally flew in and out of LAX and I felt like such a speck of sand, or like one star shining among many. This is for Sammi, I respect you more than any one, you are so young yet so wise. This is for the singers who break my heart when I listen to them at Hotel Café in Hollywood on a Friday night, you are so soulful and earnest. This is for my writer friends, sprinkled all throughout the city and into the valley, so alive and interesting. This is for Lana at Peet’s Coffee Shop, I hardly know you but I know you are strong and I am drawn to your energy. This is for Marcy one block over, for the walks and the yogurt and the Monday beach volleyball invite. For the Maryland Kids, you remind me how life is so circular—we’re all moving and changing but we’ve never truly left each other. This is for Dan from the Bus Stop, thanks for asking me out; thanks for asking me out again after I shut you down and for telling me I am interesting and intriguing. This is for Sarah at the massage joint in Brentwood for her amazing Thai technique. This is for Bay Cities Deli in Santa Monica for the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had. This is for Lauren and Graeme, I know I will know you forever and ever and ever. This is for the woman who sells gourmet olive oils at the farmers market, you make my Sunday mornings, along with those fresh strawberries and hazelnut lattes. This is for Jen, you might be the goofiest girl I know and I dig our Venice nights. This is for Pycher making films in Hollywood and telling me secrets on a Friday night out at Jones Café. This is for Tim, for the cocktail art gallery opening and the entertainment insight. This is for downtown Los Angeles, for the stories and the lights and the art walks. This is for Leah, you are filled with light. For the #2 bus line, for providing 75-cent Saturday night shenanigans. For Sabine at the gym, you gentle monster. For Asian Equation, for being so hard on me; I hate you now but I’ll thank you later. For Don Antonio’s $1 tacos. For Harold at the driving range, you and your blessed golf advice! For Street, you saavy business man. For Hannah, for calling me to ask “Where have all the writers gone?” For Brentwood, I felt at home here long before I moved here.