Saturday, January 26, 2013
Why We Rule
As this town sleeps a million children of all ages lye their head's down to dream in Los Angeles. Some for the sake of dreaming and some to actually dream. Lonely is the brain without a dream, and lonely is the heart without a brain. That's why a scarecrow needs a lion and the lion needs a tin man, and three men traveling alone together to save the world need a woman and a wizard.
Every day 3000 men and women get off the bus, train, or plane and dream the same dream. That dream mutates into whatever it becomes, much like us. We say goodbye to the lives we knew as realities, to create one specific to our creative self, in a time where both or nothing is certain.
That's why we rule.
Nothing is certain across the board. When the world is uncertain, it looks to smile, and we are in the business of personal uncertainty and professional smiles.
We are entertainers. When you go back to St. Paul, New Hampshire, Colorado, Florida, Puerto Rico, or wherever the shit you're from, you see TV and movie posters everywhere. These posters are put in place but marketing companies and advertisement agencies so that the masses can be entertained.
Everyone of you, every single one of you see these posters when you go home. You are reminded of where you've been living and where you live. You move here for reasons that I am unaware of but, I think and hope, because you want to make the world better place with what you have inside your brain.
It's hard because our dreams are untouchable, and at times unattainable. We're addicted to the dream much like some suburban women are addicted to the idea of a family, much like a heroin addict is addicted to heroin, we are addicted to the dream. Sometimes we may feel the inclination to run, the dream still courses through our veins though, in hallways, in staircases, behind doors, and in front of them.
In time the competition turns to camaraderie, and strangers quickly turn into a group of friends that can support each other, and combine hearts and talents. The orphanage that LA is, is a weird place to live. It's absurd if you think about it in depth. Write down three bullet points each day for a week of the crazy shit you experienced, in the end you'll have 21 fuckin crazy stories. Stories. I have one. You have one, and so do they. Some are bad, some are good. Some are really bad, and some are horrible. Point is, we live in a story land inside a bubble at the end of our country plucking our souls out on a daily basis in order to express a story. Although the journey may be daunting at times, it never gets old.
We'll grow old together too, just tellin stories to make smiles, and that makes me happy. Now let's go for a hike at Runyon and get fuckin crazy this weekend.