"I was actually afraid to go back to California. I was afraid that all of the men would look like Robert Conrad or Richard Gere or both at once, and all the women of course would look like Farrah Fawcett, that every soul I met would talk like the zombies on TV, that my congenital hosility would be pushed so far past any line of socialized containment that I would end up murdering every living thing in my line of sight instad of coming back to New York and building a terrorist army of concerned citizens like the adult I thought I was.
As it happened, it wasn't nearly so painful as I'd imagined. In fact, it was not long before I found myself being blatantly seduced by all of the most decadent aspects of the region. It is that insidious. I had been in San Francisco a total of three days when I agreed to enter a hot tub with three other naked humans. My will, not to mention my mind, had eroded that much already..." - excerpt from "California" in Mainlines, Blood Feasts & Bad Taste, by Lester Bangs.
It was 87 degrees here in Los Angeles today. We have a short week, what with Thanksgiving coming up. The past week has been unseasonably hot, with a return of the Santa Ana winds (and the wildfires that inevitably follow) and nippy nights that remind us that winter is just around the corner. But the seasons in California are false: a tree here or there will change color, you get some rain (last year, more rain than ever) and some cold, but nothing like what most people are used to. In fact, most Thanksgivings and Christmases in California are sunny and warm affairs.
I was thinking today that it was weird for it to be so hot about this time of year, and I was reminded of a Thanksgiving two years ago which was just as boiling. I rmember because the night before I had gone to see the Twilight Singers at a practically sold out show, gotten trashed with my friends, went back to the Short Stop (Greg's bar) and continued drinking, wound up naked in a friend's hot tub, passed out for a few hours, and then woke up at 9am to stumble back to Greg's house for breakfast. I remember the walk (a few short blocks) was scorching, and the rest of that Thanksgiving Day remained that day. We all just kept drinking simply to stay refreshed.
And one Christmas not too long ago, I was in Melbourne, Australia. It was summer there, and the weather was pleasantly warm and crisp. Then it started to pour - thunderstorms which quickly flooded the area of Brunswick where I was staying. I called my parents to wish them a Merry Christmas... "Yea, it's warm here but it's raining like crazy..." "Oh?" said my mom. "It's really beautiful today. Kind of hot."
"...my heart cried out for you, California - Oh, California, I'm coming home... Oh make me feel good, rock and roll band, I'm your biggest fan, California... I'm coming home..." - Joni Mitchell
I don't think I could ever leave.