The Other Side

I have always had a morbid fascination with things that are foreign to me. Perhaps it is more of a healthy curiosity. It is oft quipped that the grass is always greener on the other side, yet for whatever reason we strive for those pastures which are unknown to us. We all live in our own specific world, yours may not be the same as mine, but you would at least agree that everyone's current situation provides some sort of limitations.

The world I live in consists of major indulgence, not quite sodom and gomorrah type stuff, but by traditional measurements, I'm probably not the guy you want to bring home to mom and dad. If this were a Beatles vs. Stones debate I'm totally the Mick Jagger type...actually probably more of a Keith Richards. My world consists of a mattress in the corner of the room with no furniture, but a $3000 entertainment center with a 372 inch television projection. My world consists of thousand dollar weekends and hundred dollar weeks, first class flights to Vegas but future dating my rent checks so I don't overdraw. Welcome to the world of 5 AM, cold sweats, hangovers and withdrawal symptoms. This is the world that I occupy, poor decisions with a large group of twenty something year old friends, living in the moment, thinking in terms of the now. I am 25 years old in LA, most of my crew is an assistant or working at some low level start up or an actor that can't get consistent work and moonlights as your barista at Coffee Bean. Welcome to California.

But it's not a bad place to be. It's fun, it's stressful, it's fiscally immature. Instead of going to Boa on Saturday night and spending $120 on dinner and eating ramen noodles the rest of the week, it would be more prudent to eat 7 moderate dinners at a rate of like $15, but where's the excitement in that? What I'm trying to say is, it could be a lot worse. I could be stuck in Nowhereville, USA married to my high school sweetheart selling insurance while my wife uploads her expanding pregnant stomach to Facebook. Or, I suppose I could be hanging out in government subsidised housing in South Central in a bedroom with 7 other siblings because my Mexican parents take the Catholic Church very seriously. What's liberating about being where I am right now is that I am responsible for no one but myself. As long as I can manage to pay my bills and stay alive, I'm doing ok by most standards. The debauchery I get into on the side is irrelevant, those are memories for me to cherish if I ever get sucked into a world that I don't care to be a part of.

But despite my contentment with my thousandaire socialite party lifestyle, I do often wonder what it's like to not struggle in LA. What's it like to party in the hills? What's it like to go to the Soho house and throw down like a baller? It's not a world I'm likely to be exposed to, unless I strike an unlikely friendship with someone moderately famous, easy to do if you are a cute girl, but I'm just a dude, and by being 6'3 and not terribly deformed that makes me better looking than most of the money in this city. Take this as anti-semitic if you want, or swallow the truth: short, bald, and fat is not a particularly en vogue look. (Side note: When I was younger, I was super pale. Then that albino movie Powder came out and I was totally fucked. I asked my dermatologist if I could start going tanning and he promised me that pale was going to come back in style. He pointed to the popularity of Johnny Depp in Gothic rolls and then he pointed to the Victorian era where paleness was a sign of wealth and power...ya he fucking missed on that one) But once in a while a chance opportunity will present itself and you will get to experience something outside your wheelhouse. I had one such experience last night.

After I'm sure 17 people bailed on my buddy I got a call at 6:52 inviting me to a dinner that started at 7:30. Fuck it, the Pacers are winning by 15 and maybe I will meet someone advantageous to my future as a writer. After picking up 2 girls (I suppose they were supposed to be our dates?) We began the long climb up the picturesque Laurel Canyon of the Hollywood Hills. I was getting super geeked at this point, as a career social climber this was near the top of my accomplishments, a fucking dinner party on a Monday, because why not right? We arrive at a beautiful home, I immediately wanted to jump in the LED lit pool and start ripping shots, but that's not really what you do at one of these.

The first revelation upon our arrival was that the woman cooking had unceremoniously cut off her thumb whilst cooking our Italian inspired meal (opera as background music, a screening of the Italian film Mafioso to follow dinner) So while every indie director and Hollywood agent gave their best medical advice (Put the thumb in the freezer, no keep it warm, put it in the oven) I did the only sensible thing and headed to the bar. Our hosts graciously kept my glass full of whiskey rocks all evening, but I quickly realized no one had any interest in me. The average age of a male at this soiree was probably about 40 and the young women probably aged around 27 (on the way down as far as models are concerned) When I could engage someone in conversation it was more as if I was a sounding board for their self pitch. "I have these three projects in development, I'm closing an overall deal at Paramount blah blah blah" on the opposite end, the girls don't really have much to say at all. It's like an understood rule, you get the call to come to these things because you are an attractive female and as long as you nod and smile at everyone's stories about how self-important they feel, you will remain one of the crew.

People casually smoked joints around the dinner table and asked questions that you would only hear in LA such as "are you two full sisters or just half?" Apparently we now live in a society that begs that question. I suppose I have no problem with the incessant bragging and self-promotion, but for a time I felt like no one was really happy to be there, they were all trying so hard. I wanted to be like "look man, I know your IMDB profile too, and yah I know your network job is sick, let's just get fucked up and eat some pasta" In fact the only real interesting person there that I connected with I'm pretty sure was under the influence of LSD. And don't get me wrong, everyone immediately recognizes me as an outsider and wants to be nice. It's almost a fascination, how did this 25 year old bro end up at our dinner party, he's not in our club. But it's just not for me.

Is not the idea of a dinner party to celebrate friendship and celebrate life? My idea of a dinner party probably includes more bottles of wine than ingredients in the main course, and if it turns into an all out flip cup tournament until 3 in the morning, so be it. Perhaps some day I'll be ready for the world of the intellectual, or ready to compete with someone over who can name more of Sidney Lumet's films, but I'm just not.

To me a good time is still high fiving yourself because you get to the 7-11 cash register at 1:58 AM and are permitted to buy the requisite amount of booze for the after party. I still like watching the sun rise as I resort to drinking an old skunked beer that I found in my golf bag from last season. I still like using cheesy one liners on a girl and giving her an awkward smile. Day drinking and late nights will end soon, but not too soon. I'm glad I'm a part of the collective struggle in LA. It bonds me with everyone else that is going through the same shit. It's as if we are all collective pledges in the giant fraternity that is Los Angeles. And some day we'll all be seniors pissing all over the institution and we'll look back at how stupid we were as Freshman in this game of life, but I'm sure we'll look back with fondness. Because it's not about how fast you can get to the top, it's about the journey, I mean I want to be rich and famous so bad but not yet...now this isn't to say this is a blanket document on how the other side lives. This wasn't Zac Efron's birthday, it was a Monday night dinner party among B level Hollywood types. And it's a cool scene to visit, for sure. But I know where I belong, it's right here.