Say what you will about the Valley (and I, for one, say, “This looks just like where I grew up, except that the streets are longer and there’s Paul Thomas Anderson filming his next eleven movies”), today I began my One-Man Sherman Oaks Do-It-Yourself Gentrification Project. Which means that when I move there, the stigma of living there will be removed. So strong is my passion for the best vacation spot in the recorded fifty-year history of sprawl.
Today I had a meeting in The Land Of Dreams: it took place at a lovely outdoor mall proudly featuring a Starbucks, a record store, a magazine stand, a juice bar, a take-out gourmet Chinese place, a sixty-seven thousand screen movie theater (which I didn’t go into per se, but considering the greatness of the rest of the mall, I’m sure the “Only Totally Awesome Movies That Djb Loves Film Festival” was in full swing at the time), and a location of the gym I belonged to the entire time I lived in LA. A record store and a separate, dedicated magazine stand! I’ve never been so happy to have the option to buy two copies of Blender sixteen feet away from one another. Not that I did any such thing, of course. But still.
So I totally want to move to the Valley, I thought. I’d never have to leave. Except to drive home, which would be, by this equation, to the Valley. So it’s a good idea, but inherently flawed. So. Screw that noise, I said. I’m not moving to the Valley. I’m moving to the mall.