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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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- A Blog Supreme
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- Piano Jazz


Monday, May 24   >>

BOWL CHAIRS SUSPENDED FROM CEILINGS

Pandora ...equipped in new cars' stock stereos. #boner

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For the most part, I know pretty much everything there needs to be known about LA's art scene. I worked with a magazine that forced me into every niche group you could imagine and, essentially, learn about all their quirks and intricacies. It's gotten me acquainted to this vast town that I once thought years ago was just a wasteland for dreamers, junkies, and dreamer junkies. I can't imagine ever moving far from it only because it's shaped all my creative sensibilities. I owe everything to it in that aspect.

But since I've gotten this new gig at this firm some months ago, I've seen an other side of this town that is 1. very new to me and 2. far more accurate to its global preconceptions.

The commerce side.

Holy moly. The commerce side of LA is polluted by people over 35 who are still obsessed with looking (not being) cool, who are tremendously overpaid for mediocre work, and are the walking definition of "jaded."

I told myself, "Nah. Just give it time. You'll adjust. It's just new and you're not used to it."

But I haven't adjusted. Over here, everyone knows someone who's got a sailboat (a SAILBOAT) or court side season tickets. Over here, people don't go out for the dancing; they go out for the bottle service. Over here, aesthetics rule, and money rules aesthetics.

Case study: Cool Office Tres Chic L'omfg.

This business--whose name I won't publish (obviously)--invited some colleagues and I over for some bullshit corporate schmoozing some weeks ago. We didn't think twice since it was relatively close by.

Upon entering, Ryan fucking Howard's doppelganger greets us as if he discovered a cave with free pussy and endless gold. He is EXCITED. But I can read through it.

I look around and it's an office that makes Ikea look like your grandma's closet. This place is colorful as a unicorn's anus and I'm incredibly blown away by this murder to the art of decoration.

Green desks, red lamps, yellow rugs, orange doors, blue walls, the works. It screams, "NAH, WE'RE NOT LIKE THOSE 'OTHER' BUSINESSES... OUR JEANS COST AS MUCH AS YOUR RENT, AND OUR ATTITUDES ARE SUPER RAD AND 'LAXED, BRAH... LET'S JUST CUT THIS MILLION-DOLLAR DEAL AND CALL IT A DAY, YEAH? SAKI BOMBS ON ME, BROS. SAKI. BOMBS. ON. ME."

Essentially, so much style, so little substance.

They closed shop last Friday.

So, essentially, the commerce side of LA, in large part, is a big orgy of ugly interior design. Metaphoric!

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On the blog tomorrow: Handshakes