I Love LA! The people, anyway.


Today, Ann Carli of LA dropped by the Cherry Branch Gallery in Cherry Valley NY as I was prepping for my April 6th opening and became my first collector!

She bought six limited edition 8×8 iPhoto’s which will be printed on metal and finished with a high gloss.

I met Ann at an LA writers retreat in Palm Desert a few years ago.

We bonded over my anger and her passivity. Connected by FB we’ve kept track of each other.

She is passing through upstate NY on her way to the Berkshires after visiting family near Buffalo.

It was wonderful to see her and fun to show her my new life in central NY.

We laughed at the memory of me at the retreat in the desert.

I was so angry you could fry an egg on my aura.

The massage therapist who worked on me had to cancel her appointments because my energy had knocked her sideways.

What? That was me?

I’d just returned from a month in China working on shoes that I hated for a company I loathed.

My mom, dad and grandmother had all died in the previous 5 years and I was over lot of things. LA being one.

It was just a few weeks after that retreat that I chucked the job and left LA to live somewhere in central NY.

My kid was off to college in the fall. The time was now.

I bought a house, Dunga Brook, sight unseen from a Facebook post by a guy I barely knew.

He lived on a farm and posted a picture of a run down 1820’s farmhouse that was for sale next to his.

Who wants to be my neighbor? He asked. Me, I answered.

I’d been ready to leave LA from the minute I’d arrived, 25 years earlier.

I’d moved there on a whim when life as a ski bunny in Vail had lots its charm.

I knew when I passed through Baker and began the long sad decline across the San Gabriels into the LA Basin that I’d made a horrible mistake.

It was just so darn ugly, that arid landscape.

Going back to Vail wasn’t an option. There was only one direction…forward.

Soon enough, a career and my own upkeep and then a kid to raise kept me tied me to LA.

And the people. In LA, I met the best people. People who were fun and smart and artistic and wild. LA was full of great people.

Don’t get me wrong, LA is also the home to some incredible asshats. And air pollution. And Santa Ana’s. And fires.

And don’t get me started on earthquakes.

And an acre cost about a million dollars in my neighborhood.

So, when my friend posted a picture of that little White House on an acre on the east coast for $34,000, I jumped at the chance.

All I knew was it was green out there in the summer and white in the winter.

And two years later, I have to say…

I love my LA friends.

But New York is where I’d rather be.

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  1. I once lived in LA. Learned that everyone (literally) was just about to hit the big time.

    Everyone was soon to be a movie star or an Olympic pole vaulter or maybe just opening a line of eateries.

    Every person was once a model or was currently doing one.

    Every person’s uncle owned a Bentley..

    Everyone showered in the dream of notoriety. The hope for fame was everyone’s complexion.

    I would go to Newport and look due west. It was the only possible way to see the actual and genuine.

    Or I would drive up to Yosemite. In Yosemite I wept. The honesty there . The rocks, the trees, the storms.


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