To Live and Love In L.A.
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
He’s back. In this follow-up to the acclaimed TO LIVE AND DRINK IN L.A., Shawn Michals, notorious imbiber of life and cocktails, returns to tackle a subject that has both inspired and confounded some of the greatest thinkers throughout history: LOVE. TO LIVE AND LOVE IN L.A. tracks Shawn as he navigates the amorous waters of a city teeming with both angels and devils. These passionate adventures involve fellow artists, wild ones, and even an encounter with a would-be zombie. Along the way, Shawn is questioned about everything from his sanity to his sexuality to his advice on how to seduce a cougar (or vice- versa). While indulging in this romantic odyssey, Shawn begins to question whether he will ever find "The One." After all, falling in love and accepting love involves not only a healthy degree of courage, but also sometimes a healthy degree of craziness. Feeling courageous? Feeling crazy? Chances are you’ll fall in love with this book. Here’s looking at you, kid… "Revelatory... entertaining and engaging..." - Publishers Weekly
everyone). “I’m not sure what I really want to be.” I tossed my clothes to her. “Wait and watch,” I smiled. “Then catch me if you can.” The first block of the walk proved to be disappointingly uneventful. A few people stared, a few people laughed; the only person who really took note of me was a large African-American who was either one of the most ripped women or one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. S/he called out to me that they had a hotel suite down the block with a “too empty
the job of being an administrative assistant, even though I had no idea what one was. The bike ride to the College took longer than I’d anticipated and I frantically tucked my shirt into my trousers as I navigated through the campus and hurried up the steps into the building of stone that was going to serve as my workplace for the next two weeks. Inside, I was unable to find the office I was scheduled to report to, and practically tackled another guy in the hallway who looked much less confused
were the ones I felt truly sorry for. At least as a Radio Television Film major I’d had teachers who were as crazy as I was, who’d been willing to spend two hours discussing how Akira Kurosawa used “the wipe” in his movies and cut in the midst of an action in order to fragment his characters for a greater emotional response. As nerdy as these conversations sound in retrospect, at least my teachers had cared. From what I could tell, the teachers and advisors who worked in this world renowned
mailroom,” Jinny said, dangling a key before me and breaking up my fantasy that I wasn’t really living a life but was in fact just an actor in some critically acclaimed show. “Better get going.” Relieved to finally be given a definitive task of some sort, I took the key from her, stood, and hurried from my cubicle, slipping around Jinny as gingerly as possible. I hurried down the hall to the mailroom. It was a cramped area just a hair larger than the space I’d been supposedly working in the
open, so I stepped inside. It was a cavernous space. Canvases lined the walls and many spilled onto the floor. Brushes and half filled cans of color lay strewn about like artistic land mines. Substitute paintbrushes and paint cans for pen and paper, and I might as well have been in my apartment. Might be my kind of woman, I thought. “Helena?” I called out hesitantly. Then again: “Helena.” She emerged from behind a large work of art that depicted howling faces and a sea of dancing skeletal