L.A.
writing on scratch paper
Hi, hello!
Pictures are still worth a thousand words, right?
Anyway, we went to L.A., we saw our friends, we went to the beach, we saw our friend’s (amazing) concert, we hung out at the hotel’s rooftop pool, we quoted a lot of weird internet things! It was a big love fest!
And all of it happened because Adam’s parents wanted to go to Mike’s concert so badly that they flew us all out to L.A. and booked a fancy hotel in Hollywood so we could all celebrate together. It was so nice of them! We had so much fun! I love Los Angeles!
Every time Adam and I go to L.A., no matter how far removed we are, being back still sparks a little bit of: should we move back? Should we sell all our belongings and pack up the essentials again?
But we successfully made it back to Kansas City because we also love it here!
(But also, specifically this time, it might have had more to do with the fact that Adam’s parents were with us, reminding us that, at least for now, his job is tied to the Midwest, so we couldn’t just drop everything and cancel our return flight!)
So, this week: some pictures to give a glimpse into the trip! And a poem draft that I frantically scribbled down on some scratch paper while we were out at Adam’s work club (drinking too much free coffee and tea), in honor of spending most of our L.A. trip with my friend Taylor, who, ultimately, is the reason I moved to L.A., the reason all that’s happened after has happened, the reason I even met Adam.
The wild thing is that she doesn’t even hold this over my head - she could have spent the entire day of my wedding following me around saying, “Look, I did this! Look what I did!” and I would have simply had to nod my head over and over. Instead, she read a poem during our ceremony that I told her I’d finish writing in advance and then actually finished writing (on someone else’s phone) while we were all sitting up in the venue balcony watching guests arrive because I’ve never NOT procrastinated one single day of my life! (Adam’s dad actually saw me over at a table alone and thought I was upset or scared or something, and Adam had to be like, nope, just writing!) And Taylor still read the poem like a pro! So, in honor of Taylor, another rushed poem:
IN THE HOTEL LOBBY scoping the tongue-feel of goodbye again, waiting for harsh tingle pain or hard gasp, tight air breeze. To be leaving - how that keeps going, a time stamp's serrated edge pierced orange hot, thin skin burn. The ending insists on striking violent flash, blurred thumb-print photos asking: when will you do it all again?