night jasmine on the way to new york
reflecting on nine years in & out of los angeles
California makes me yearn like nowhere else.
I wake up in Koreatown at The Line, I treated myself for the first time in forever. The night before, Ursus picked me up from LAX, and we got tacos at the parking lot spot with Drew and Heather. I drank a litre of horchata, we crushed al pastor tacos standing around the hood of Ursus’ car.
True LA friendship.
I have breakfast with Heather, and get a strawberry matcha before we almost miss the train.
I watch the sun stretch across the ocean. I’m on the Pacific Coast Liner to San Diego. I text a crush and an ex. I’m only mad at one of them. I watch the surfers float over the waves.
We get off the train, get $9 juice across the street and wait for Sahvi to pick us up. The sun feels good, the jasmine bushes are blooming all around us. I think about the first time I came to California, almost 10 years ago.
I had to get my first credit card to buy the flight. I saved up from my job at a sandwich shop in the Mile End to afford the trip. I remember the smell of the warm spring nighttime as I stepped out of LAX. The car fumes and smog didn’t bother me, I was buzzing with excitement. It was springtime, the roses were blooming, and I smelled night-blooming jasmine for the first time. I didn’t know that the city would become a permanent parallel timeline in my life.
I fell into the vortex of Los Angeles, and fell in love; the city never spat me back out. One of my first and favourite memories is driving through Topanga Canyon from the Valley, listening to Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon.” I have a video of it somewhere. I made my final intermedia project in university about it, attempting to transmute the feeling into an interactive project. It’s impossible to describe it, watching the hills open up into the Malibu cliffs for the first time. It’s an experience I hope everyone gets to have at least once.
It was a world I wanted to be a part of, but I didn’t know how or why. The energetic pull is electrifying. When it’s good, it feels like riding a wave of divine timing. When it’s bad, the world opens up beneath you and drops you out of your life.
The first time that happened, Lucy caught me. It’s impossible for me to write about Los Angeles without talking about Lucy.
I met her in 2017, during my first trip to LA. Lucy stayed in my life until she passed away almost two years ago.
But to be honest, she’s still in my life. She’s the hummingbirds that fly right up to me while I’m having my morning coffee on Luke’s balcony, she’s the dragonflies that land on my book while I’m reading. I see her name on signs across the city, I see 777 spray-painted on the ground. I’ve been meaning to get a tattoo for her. I’ll get around to it eventually. I think I’ve been avoiding it because it makes it feel real.
Lucy is the reason I kept coming back to the city after it tore me apart the first time. I would visit her and her sister, Scarlet, once a year, or whenever I could afford it. We would get coffee, go to the beach, go to Rosedorn shows, and slowly, my life in LA started to transform.
It felt like I was on one path, and Lucy pulled me back to where I was supposed to be.
It’s hard to believe that someone I met at a house party in Culver City would change my life so drastically. I attribute most of the good things in my life to her. Lucy had this stubborn insistence on constantly dreaming of something better for everyone around her. Her ability to transmute one of the most painful experiences of my life into a source of transformational growth has been life-changing. I love Los Angeles, and Los Angeles loves me because of Lucy.
I visit Scarlet when I’m in New York. I’m on a flight to JFK as I write this. It’s hard not to cry on the plane. I went to Scarlet’s album launch last October. Most of the songs were inspired by her sister. I cried the whole time. I don’t know where I would be without her.
Let’s get back to Los Angeles.
Over the years, my friends from Montreal established a pipeline between cities, extending their lives and work across the continent, into Silver Lake, Echo Park, Eagle Rock, and Highland Park.
Worlds expanded, I fell in and out of love a few times, and tried to decide not to date any more musicians. I told myself that I don’t need more songs written about me. I have not succeeded in maintaining this boundary.
If you are a Taurus man who makes music, please stay away from me.
Back to San Diego.
Heather, Sahvi, and I pull into the driveway and settle in. Ursus, Nena, and Raven arrive shortly after, and we head to Target for our quarterly content house run. Sahvi is a walking encyclopedia of which companies have been sued for causing cancer and other heinous practices.
We try to get dinner, driving all over the city before settling on a sushi spot in Gastown, where our waiter is clearly trying to make it as an actor. They’re playing a copyright-free house mix of Crazy Frog. Ursus tries to wander into a karaoke bar, we don’t let him succeed.
The next few days are a fever dream of viral content, friendship, and severely geeking out. I feel deep gratitude for this strange and joyful part of my life.
We head to Sunset Cliffs. We want to get to the ocean, but there’s no clear way down. We ask a surfer how to get there, and in a very California accent that I thought only existed in movies, he tells us that “anyone can do it if they really try,” and proceeds to show us how to scale the cliff down towards the ocean. A true beach NPC interaction. We climb down as the tide comes in, hauling camera gear and hoping for the best. The footage turns out better than we could’ve ever imagined.
Before long, we say our goodbyes, and I’m back on the train to Los Angeles. Kylie arrived yesterday and is already at Luke’s. The Uber home is quick, the driver plays “Decode” by Paramore, Luke’s friends are scouting the house as a reference for a feature. Luke texts Ada Lea to clear some art, and shows me the K-pop music video he’s been working on.
Kylie and I head to Elysian Park, wandering around and filming what might become a visualizer, before heading back to get ready for the night. We do our makeup, get changed, and head to Catch One. My worlds combine on the dance floor, Shea and Deviilbby scream songs back at us, Luke and Maria join us outside after the set. Kylie, Deviilbby, and I hit the hot tub before calling it a night.
I trip and fall through the next few days. Kylie makes her flight home, I sleep in until I smell breakfast upstairs, I meet Kim for drinks and see my ex’s best friend across the bar. 2017 era, the ex who I came to LA for in the first place. We catch up, the conversation is warm, the stack of Coachella wristbands is telling. We’re interrupted by A Man telling me that Geese was the highlight of the festival.
I hate Geese, and I find anyone who tries to convince me otherwise insufferable. Tony explains why.
I cycle between pool days, computer work, sitting on the balcony to watch the birds, and catching up with friends. We discover a restaurant at the bottom of the hill, and commit to becoming regulars.
I buy a zine at Stories about Topanga Canyon in the 70s. We go to Medieval Times. We find a dive bar called Rush on the way home. The front door is permanently locked; the only way in is through the back. The bartender tells us it’s to “keep the narcs out.”
Real.
The door is propped up with a milk crate, and two rounds for five people come out to $40.
I spend as much time in the sun as I can.
I end some cycles and begin others. I receive a voice note, assuring me that falling in love will be easy. I want to be open. I try not to get my hopes up.
I pack my suitcase and head to the airport. I pay too much for a breakfast that arrives 20 minutes late. I take my meds and fill my water bottle. I buy wired Apple headphones and listen to the new fakemink song. Oren FaceTimes me and asks if he should drive to New York tomorrow.
I get on the plane, I try to sleep a bit before opening my laptop. Someone on the plane is wearing a perfume that smells exactly like the night jasmine that I love.