La-la-la- Los Angeles…

I’d never live in L.A.

In the same way I feel I could never live on a boat in the middle of the ocean, I feel also I could never settle in Los Angeles; the surrounding area too alien and hostile for me to thrive successfully there. But California has always had a siren song for me. Starting with family road trips up and down the West Coast highway, to frequent stops with my old band, L.A. and I have a boomerang love. I’ll fling myself far away from it, but I always find myself drawn back.

Going to California has evolved over the years for me from family trips and outings to Disneyland to matters related to  disrobing semi publicly and monsters. I go when there is film work or burlesque bookings, but in those moments rarely would I entertain the idea of packing up all my belongings, stuffing them into a truck and heading south of the boarder. It’s too bright, you need a car if you want to get around in any reliable fashion, and LAX is one of the least enticing places to spend any length of time in.

The pulse, ebb and flow of the city’s breath, the arterial flow of traffic that’s  merry-go-round that never really stops… I can’t deny that there is a power and poetry to the place. Mecca for the North American film industry and broken dreams. I won’t lie, that there is a certain romance to the place. And it’s days when I see stuff like this, maybe I feel the tug of that old boomerang love calling me back…

Check it out…

Hugs and hisses…

Little Miss Risk

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