I MOVED TO LOS ANGELES AND NOW I AM A PERFECT PERSON

I moved to Los Angeles and now I am a perfect person.

No depression. No unwanted body fat. No drinking problems. No anxiety. No discolored teeth. No relationship with childhood abuse. No jealousy. No unchecked aggression. No excessive body hair. No experience with divorce. No unrealistic career expectations. No loneliness. No money problems. No sleep deprivation. No distance from my family.  No struggles with my own sexual identity. No separation from my soul. No interest in living in isolation. No periods of distance from creativity. No harmful eating habits. No fear of intimacy. No problems.

Nothing. Ever. Again.

A lot of people dream of such an outcome. They fantasize packing up their lives and driving to this temple of a town and becoming clean and new. Babies with sparkling futures. Angels in the City of Angels. But they never do. And they never reach this living and breathing state of Nirvana that I have created for myself. And I feel bad for them. But I wouldn’t trade places with them. We all choose how happy we want to be. So, fuck them.

Anyway, I live in Los Angeles and I am perfect.

My new bedroom smells like oranges and wood. I think that is the official aroma of the state of California. Oranges and wood. The walls are white and the ceiling is white and the rays of morning sun drift longer through my windows here than anywhere else on Earth. They seep into my skin and whisper life into my pours.

This is one of three unique elements that exist only in Los Angeles.

ELEMENT 1: SUNLIGHT IS POSSESSED BY MAGIC AND CAN HEAL YOU IF YOU ALLOW IT TO.

The walk up the stairs to my apartment is 16 miles long. My front door sits right above a cloud and birds drop me my mail everyday. Always checks. Never bills. Today I received a check for 50,000 dollars for “inspiring generations to come.” I get one of these particular payments once a week. I don’t know who is sending them, but the checks always clear. The extra exercise up the steps has already cured my life long battle with asthma and carved an even 24 pounds of fat off my body. I miss the asthma because it connects me to my childhood. A little boy breathing like a fish out of water in 1980’s East Texas. I do not miss the extra twenty something pounds because I want people to see me as an attractive and motivated person. Which I am. More now than ever. In fact, I was just named one of the top 10 “Most Motivated and Attractive People Alive Today.” I look exactly like I did when I was 22 years old, but have a wisdom behind my eyes that make women ask for my number and men want to shake my hand a little longer while begging for my professional services. I also think the men see an opportunity for us to become new best friends. And if they could break through my initial shyness, there would be a wealth of healthy camaraderie they would benefit from for years. They think thoughts such as, “I can see Will and I growing closer. And one day, He could even stand as my best man on an alter that hasn’t been built yet with a woman I am still to meet.”

In Los Angeles, I only have one of anything and it is all I need. One pair of boots that somehow fit any occasion. One white mug for coffee that keeps liquid at the correct temperature any time I touch it. One small glass of expensive whiskey. One book that changes everyday. (I read a full book once a day.) One hand rolled cigarette that people always ask to borrow. One pen. One journal to write and draw in.

Every morning, I wake up wearing my boots and lay my possessions out on the floor beside my mattress. I meditate while smoking the cigarette. Here, if smoked once a day, cigarettes lower your chance of cancer and your heart rate. So, tobacco has infused itself with my chakra and I am one with the rolling papers. My body is the rolling paper of my soul. And my soul is a delicious burning ember that is eternal.

As I stretch and bend my body across the space of my apartment, the smoke follows me like a loyal dog. These stretches are to prepare for my morning yoga classes. I’ve become an expert and teach the practice to ghosts of old film actors. Brando does a killer chaturanga. Grace Kelly is the rising star of the class. Obviously.

Then I shower and inspect my body. Everyday my skin darkens and smooths. Sometimes I mistake myself for a multi cultural version of the statue of David. I comb my hair with orange peels and inspect my teeth that are now made of diamonds. They sparkle in the sun like fish gills. One angle they turn florescent blue. One angle they turn a golden green. In my towel, I alternate from drinking the mug of coffee and glass of whiskey. Neither are addictive to me anymore and actually benefit me like multi purpose vitamins. So, I stay on a strict regiment of each. For the continuation of my health.

From here, I do an inventory of my faults as I stare out the window sitting at a small writing desk. I can see the tops of the buildings of the city shimmering in the sun. With small speakers, they bounce jazz music off their surfaces and into my home.

Inventory.

I check for depression. It is nowhere to be found. I check for anxiety. It is nowhere to be found. I open my journal and pen and write out my entire life. My childhood was simple and beautiful. I lived in the woods. I read biology books and Faulkner and learned about sports in a grounding way. No one ever took advantage of me physically. I never hid anything from anyone. I never experienced shame. I have always loved myself. My parents were perfect. My brothers were heroes. I experienced a clean and healthy relationship with my sexual self all through my teens. All physicality was a gift and wonderful. My twenties were not confusing. I was focused and creative and somehow made enough money to last me my entire life. My thirties were void of any substance abuse or relational breakdowns. My career has lead me to being considered one of the greatest of all times in my field.

This is the 2nd magical element that only exists in Los Angeles:

ELEMENT 2: WITH DEDICATION, YOU MAY CREATE A NEW PAST FOR YOURSELF.

Below me, sits hundreds of apartments where everyone I’ve ever loved resides. The unit directly below me is occupied by my therapist. We stand on our individual balconies and talk at sunset everyday. Him looking up at me. Me looking down to him. His leukemia is gone and he has retired. He shakes his head and keeps asking how I became so perfect so quickly. How I made his services so obsolete. I assure him he can still do good in the world. Just not by trying to fix me. Because there is nothing left to fix. He takes a photo of me everyday at this time and tapes the photo on his dining room wall. There are many now and it comforts him.

Below that unit, is my entire family. They send daily encouragements via bird to my mailbox. I read them with my coffee and whiskey. I also Skype with them and watch my niece and nephew grow into people. People I’d want to have a drink with and laugh.

Below that unit, is all of my friends over the years. The space is large and full of pillows. Sometimes I want to crawl down the side of the building and cook for them and talk about memories. But I’m not ready to do that yet. And that is ok.

Below that unit, is where all my former loves live. They cannot see each other and believe they all live alone. They do not think of me except for one. She cared for me the longest and we are connected forever. There is a phone in the kitchen drawer she can use to call me on. This only happens late at night and we whisper things that only we would understand. We are also allowed to call each other by the affectionate nicknames we once used so casually. Every time I hang up the phone with her I think, “If I could be lonely anymore… I would be right now.” But I do not feel lonely. Because I am perfect. And I put the phone back in my own drawer and lock it with a key. Then I swallow the key.

Below that apartment unit, I do not know what exists. The truth is… I keep my head down when I leave my home. I reach the bottom of the stairs and sometimes I see palm trees. Sometimes I eat fresh fish. Sometimes an agent gives me a script that I love and I make it into a film. Critics love what I create. Overseas sales are record breaking. Beyond that, I keep my eyes to the ground. Quiet and alone and perfect.

And sometimes, I smell a wind that comes from the east that carries hints of my former life. My life that was filled with heaviness and sorrow and just enough hope. And sometimes, I lift my eyes to the reflection of a golden building and I mistake myself for my former self. But it is fleeting. Because the burning cigarette ember inside of me begins to glow so strongly that I can not understand any reality that is not perfect.

And then I laugh and realize that any map I draw is without boarders. Any song I sing makes all of humanity cry. Every diamond is worthless. And we are all soul mates.

And this is the 3rd magical element that only exists in Los Angeles:

ELEMENT 3: IF YOU CAN FORGIVE YOURSELF, THEN YOU CAN LIVE FOREVER.