Relocation

A species that disproves evolution: The Hollywood Douche Bag

Ok, I'll admit it. When I moved to Hollywood a year ago after graduating college. I had no fucking clue what I was doing. None. No job. No friends. No clue. 

I figured if I wanted to do entertainment a good starting point would be placing myself smack dab in center of the shit storm and ride it out from there. I've always been the type of person that tosses the directions right out the window and starts in on the project at hand. Once I've failed miserably several times I'll eventually go back and look for the directions I tossed out the window cursing wildly but the point is that I like just figuring stuff out myself. 

When asked what I planned to do once I arrived in Los Angeles my answer was simple, confident and unflinching. 

"Dominate" I would say stone-faced. 

What I planned or am still planning to dominate is your guess as good as mine but it sounds pretty good doesn't it?

My swift decision on the studio I've lived in a few blocks from Hollywood Blvd. and Vine for the past year was a risky move. I paid for April when I wouldn't move in until mid-May but I had found my residence, my starting point in the eye of the storm. 

To fully grasp the hub of insanity and safe-haven for Tom foolery I moved into would take more time than I'm willing to give right now because I'm moving up out of this bitch. 

That's right. The Hollywood Holla will no longer be broadcasting live from Hollywood but really what difference does it make. Hollywood is a world renown symbol of ridiculousness, it's not just a portion of Los Angeles. Moving east of Western Ave. doesn't change the content of my blog or my campaign for domination. 

I'm moving to Silverlake in hopes of finding a job, finding inspiration and less annoying local wildlife (i.e. see picture above). Moving is almost as big a pain in the ass as getting locked up in the federal pen with a roommate that is a 7 foot black dude named  Bubba. 

I've had the spirit of a Spartan warrior in packing up and relocating. It might be that my new place is in a prime location to enjoy the full benefits of Silverlake's nightlife or it could be that at night I get drunk and have OK Corral style shoot outs with a can of Raid against the roaches in my kitchen.  

Last night a big, hairy, beast of a roach actually said to me...

"I'm your huckleberry."

I like to move around anyway. I'm a rather restless person. One time in elementary school while waiting to see the nurse after cutting my knee on the playground I busted my chin open trying to do a headstand on the chair I was supposed to be sitting in to impress Ashely Farney. 

Silverlake is a wonderful community of artists I'm told so obviously some ornery, goofy, smart ass like me needs to go piss on their pretentious parade. It may not be pretentious though, in fact I'm pretty confident my new hood will not be lame in anyway. It won't be lame at least until I find another place that I think is interesting. 

That's how it goes for a Road Man for The Lords of Karma. No place is much different than the last on the road. I thought Indiana was the most atrocious cesspool of despair than anywhere else on the planet until I went somewhere else. It's so easy to find focus on the negative aspect of where you are. Like the fact that "possum beating" is a legitimate activity where I grew up or that selling your soul won't even get you a parking space in Hollywood. 

It's just another chapter. Stories have been banked. Wisdom has been gained. Girls have not come as easy as college. 

Vos ago , Vos perceptum

I look forward to new territory to explore like you all should look forward to future tales of epic nature, from me, right here...Cheers!

With Love & Respect, 

Mike James