Three Saturdays in Los Angeles

@eveninginparis

We had breakfast at Liu’s Cafe. The place was so packed, that we had to wait before being sat and we ran off to 마당몰 to look at toners and ampoules. We came back flushed from the January sun. The host reminded me of a man I used to be friends with. He had pretty loafers on and dressed in all black just like he did. I remembered how my friend stopped speaking to me abruptly after a night I spent at his new apartment. Like a fool, I had offered to help him move into his new place. He cooked for me at midnight and I was so exhausted at that point that when he offered wine, I finished it quickly in hopes that the night would just end already. He was very particular about this linen-scented cologne he had and it was everywhere. His bed, his hoodie that I wore to sleep, everywhere I went that scent mocked me for being there. I should have known better. i shouldn’t have took it upon myself to believe I could be friends any longer with him after he so comfortably disregarded me even after he drunk-dialed me months prior and said everything he said. My naivety continues to wound me because I keep letting myself believe that there’s kindness somewhere in the hearts of those with cruel intentions.

Anyways, we shared dumplings at the cafe. I took a matcha red bean loaf slice and my friend had a scallion biscuit at the table. 

We walked around Los Feliz. No Other Choice by 박찬욱 was playing at Vista. We went to Starday and I found a heart shaped pearlescent pendant necklace on a silver chain. When I went to pay, I asked the staff if they ever felt the presence of ghosts in the shop. They said not really, that only a couple of instances when the door chime would go off or a shoe would fall from the display, but that all the spirits seemed to be happy that their clothing was going to live on with someone else. One of the employees did say that they think they felt more of an eerie presence in their previous location, but likened it to the fact that it was in Orange County. I agree, OC is spooky. We had a break at Handles (I liked the name Camel Coffee better) and got a matcha with pistachio milk. I think it’s comedic how tiny their serving size is. It comes in a thin plastic cup and kangaroo-ed in their branded version of a Dixie cup. All that for two sips and dense ice cubes. I tried on some clothes by My Mum Made It and asked myself why would I be wearing a crop top akin to a baby smock then went to buy some Rag & Bone jeans instead.

Dinner was at Tonchin. We sat at the bar and talked and talked and talked. I kept staring at the paper lanterns and the staff at the ramen station and anywhere but forward. Then we walked all over Larchmont and talked some more. 

No matter where I go I always somehow end up at 마당몰. The weather was too good to let up,  so we went to Daiso, got earl grey 빙수, and talked and talked and talked some more. I collected receipts throughout the day like little snippets to keep in my journal like I always do. 

When we headed home the fog came. I put my haunted necklace on my bedside table and got ready for bed.

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We went to one of the cafés I frequent in Koreatown. Not because their drinks are anything special (they're not), or that their staff is nice (they're not), but I do like the feeling of sitting in cafes that resemble cold slabs of concrete. Also, I find the presbyterian church across the street to be daunting and beautiful, which is something I strive to be. I offered my friends the couch and I sat on the remaining piece of furniture, a tiny rattan bench with no backing beside the low concrete divider ramp from the main floor of the café. I felt as poised as a well-trained puppy as I drank my Spanish latte and stared at the window wondering how I always end up feeling away even when I’m right here.

We left and headed further downtown. We parked at one of those sardine tin-type of corner parking spots where the cars are Tetris-ed in and out of the spaces for $10 and manned by Latino men who wear their shirts fully buttoned up and tucked into belted trousers no matter what season it is. God, I love LA. The sun felt warm in that way that makes you feel calm and regulated even when your mind doesn’t feel the same. I like that feeling of being a little cold and letting the warmth of the sun defrost you a bit.

I puppy-eyed my friends into attending a cake decorating workshop with me. Thank goodness the people yearn for arts and crafts. We settled into the table in the back ‘cos the main table was already filled with cool beautiful women. I felt like I was in school again, in some nook feeling anxious for no reason. Anyways, I chose a red velvet. I wanted the cake to be a milky pistachio color that reminded me of mint and the 50s and whipped cream dollops with cherries on top and old pills tucked in the pocket of a beaded purse whose clasp you play with at the store. I added metallic and pearl candy beads along the edges and edible flowers on the top to hide the shaky base that had gone translucent from obsessive smoothing. I liked the girl who sat diagonally from me. Her name was Jen (spelling?) and she had on Tabis and had a city bag and a pink and white gingham top. I admired the fact that she came on her own, just her and her digital camera. I found myself gravitating toward her for that reason alone.

When the sun set, my friend said something about how she felt the same way she did as a kid when she finished playing with friends and was getting called home for dinner. It feels warming to be linked to nostalgia and the pretty elusiveness of the sky and home and friends that you love playing with. The people I spend time with are all kids I play with in the cul-de-sac at the end of the day.

Dinner was somewhere in Silverlake. I found the server handsome, but then I remembered that I was in Silverlake and put that idea down. I don’t really care that he had hair that was messy just the way I liked or that he had stupid green eyes, but I did like that he played the bit when my first card didn’t work. I told him that I’d stay and do dishes if I had to and he said that he’d never let me leave. When he came back after my second card worked, he shook his head pretending it didn’t and smiled as soon as he saw me surprised. My friends and I left shortly after and they scolded me for not leaving my phone number, but I don’t like those odds. Speaking of odds, I left my leftovers at the restaurant and had to run back to the restaurant to get them and when I made it to the table, he was there cleaning up. I thought then that maybe I should say something, but all I did was look at the table and apologized and ran off because to me that wasn’t enough of an odd.

There was a little event at this gallery in Lincoln Heights with one of those coin slot machines that give you things like temporary tattoos or stickers. You could choose between a poem, a love fortune, or art. I chose love fortune and I laughed because of course the one I got had nothing to do with love and everything to do about myself and growth and patience. The artist looked like Faye Webster and she took a polaroid of me in front of a velvet draped over the front door of the gallery. I looked uncomfortable in the photo, but she did put it in a darling paper frame she made with heart and lily of the valley cutouts. She said something about how she became fascinated with lily of the valleys and how they could mean purity to some and mourning to others. To me, they resemble teardrops and remind me of sweet innocence.

After talks of sweet innocence, I ended up at 마당몰 again with some bobby pins from Daiso and a spoonful of earl grey 빙수 because I’m a creature of precious comforts. 

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It was Valentine's Day. I put on a sheer dress that had three red bows tied at the chest. I did a lot for someone who often feels so little. I put on the kitten heels my mom had gifted me for my birthday a couple years ago. I remember breaking them in when we went to Vegas a week after my birthday and how I could barely feel my body after spending all night out walking with Jennie. We drank sake at The Cosmopolitan and laughing after a tram ride where a group of Australian men were talking about the massive chandelier. That was the same trip I remember seeing a man that was stupidly handsome wearing glasses and a suit. He looked to nice to be walking through Bellagio the same night we had arrived and I looked like I had just sat in a car ride for five-ish hours (I did). It was Jennie's first time in Las Vegas. We only played at the Smokin' Hot Stuff slot machines because the graphics were cute and we only had $40 to lose (and all we did was lose).

Anyways, the kitten heels. They've been so well-loved and have become one of my staple shoes for work so it felt weird to wear it on a day off. I kind of felt like a fool, but the weather was so nice and my friend with beautiful princess hair was so willing to accompany me to the tea party hosted by a vintage shop I had won entry to. When she got to my studio, she had on a cute polka dot dress and we kind of matched in a way and it warmed me how often little coincidences like that always seem fortunately timed. I realized some things during the drive that I won't type out, but they made me think about how maybe this extremely extended period of in-between is much better than the chaos I could be dealing with. We started at Yala. It was busy. I've been privileged to have an abundance of good Yemeni coffee in my proximity, so I didn't exactly need to be there but it was nice. It kind of bums me out that athleisure is normalized and that even on a fake holiday like today, not many people are venturing beyond polyester blends and socks over leggings. There was a girl sat in the window with a pretty red bow in her hair though. 

We realized then that Studio City to Culver City (I know...) would leave us about two hours late to the tea party, but we weren't particularly in a rush so we went at our own pace. When we arrived at the address, the feeling of dread hit me. To be fair, I was in Culver City. The parking lot to the multistory building was bare save for a couple of Teslas. My friend and I thought that maybe we had arrived at the wrong plaza, but I noticed a disgruntled cardboard heart diorama that was knocked by the wind telling me otherwise.

We followed the directory to the second floor and walked into a space the size of my studio kitchen with five or so white people sat on the floor in a circle and one, the artist, sat at a small table drawing while their little white dog toddled about. We walked in and the small conversation died down. Get out... The couple that attended saw it as a path for their exit and I thought to myself, "Damn, that was smart." They looked like Kim and Edward Scissorhands. We were left saying meaningless nothings by the refreshment table. The tea was self-serve and not even steeped yet, still packaged. No one had cut into the cake. This was not a tea party... It was a shame because they'd marketed it as one. I tried to amuse myself by asking the cult circle where to find good Italian. Barely a purr. We left and found some good Italian. No one has my heart. At least I don't think so...

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