I want to write about tonight specifically because it was just so generally blasé. Neither good nor bad I felt both inside and outside of the scene. For once I was fairly impressed with the sartorial choices that LA brought to this particular party, and I was met with familiar gorgeous faces with whom I conversed, though briefly, amongst the aural goodness that Busy P, Sebastian Tellier and crew brought to the table.

Perhaps its a sign, a sign that I have overcome L.A. That I have taken all I need from it. Because, I know the people there that I want to know, I danced with the best of them, and even recruited some to the blue screen dance floor up on the 8th floor Roosevelt room sanctioned off for an upcoming exhibition.

A lovely Brit who reminded me of a friend I still hold dear brought it into a strange perspective.

Why was this night not "cool"? Why am I so unsatisfied? It's fucking LA for godsakes, and I am surrounded by actual INTERESTING people! Not the kind who feign coolness - the kind who dress up in their finest Forever21 and Louboutins and pretend they are wearing CDG with said Louboutins! I mean, actual card carrying filmmakers who are working towards something.

Perhaps my gin and tonics were not doing the trick, but for 13 bucks a pop I need them to offer me some hazy goodness!
Alas, LA, you might be slipping from my grips. My current craziness and unhappiness might be in reaction to you. A trip is in order, and dear blog you will be the first to hear about it. Relocation '10.

on a lovelier note. j'adore les FENDI stripper shoes: