Nights at Boardners

I lost myself in Hollywood last night. I believe now, that It is impossible to live here and not in some way become assimilated to the culture. I swore I wouldnt go out on Halloween, that I would stay indoors, but now that the hangover has subsided I am kind of glad that I did. It was truely a spectacular sight. Literally thousands of people on Hollywood Boulevard. Like a busy afternoon on 5th avenue in New York during christmas season. The brazen display of sexuality doesnt even bother me anymore, sluts, all of them, showing their true colors as their ass hangs out from the short skirts of their outfits. The men shallow and simple, long forgetting their full potential.

My roommates and I went out just to see the mass, the herd of party animals cleverly disguising their confessions of immorality and failures in the fabric of costumes. But, as always, no matte the occasion, we end up at our favorite pub, Boardners. I think I go there because everytime it ends up being some twisted story that makes me feel as though I'm living a seinfeld sitcom, or even more like "how I met your mother." The only place in hollywood most of the first time visitors miss, and the cheapest drinks any time of the week.

Oh I guess I behaved myself. Really, as I meet random people from all over the U.S. and we sing eighties classics at the top of our lungs, standing outside getting some air, I always feel this overwhelming sense that I'm not here for some one night stand, some random play in a dark parking lot, a drink too many that leaves might leave me hanging over the toilet most of the night and next morning. No, there is something deeply interesting in the people I meet, their stories, what it is that brought them to that bar that night, and what makes them act the way they do. A few hours away from MI, away from my guitar, away from the apartment.

It's tough to understand why people act the way they do when their 4 or 5 drinks in and many more to go. Why it is that even if I've had too much I rarely act out or make an idiot of myself. When your the only one in the room still in control of your emotions, your step, your speech, you see the human world almost through a kaleidescope. At times disgusting yes, but other times deeply intriguing and yet somehow, I see that even though my new found "friends" have no confession of faith, the fingerprint of the Almighty is still upon them, though they cannot see it in the mirror.

Somehow in the midst of all the partying, it only took a few hours with a few people to begin to restore my hope in the better goodness of people. Realizing that the goodness comes not from them, but because it is written somewhere on their heart and will not be silenced.