Here's the letter from Debbie Downer:
Going West? Bring your bulging wallet
After 15 years in LA, I am so ready to get out of here. The blinding sunlight, every single day, is like living under a bare light bulb. It makes one long for rain, cold, anything different.
The constant fear of earthquakes mean never sleeping naked, keeping shoes under your bed, the water jugs in the car, the gas tank always mostly full- don't laugh, if you were in the Valley during the Northridge quake, you'd know. Checking for the location of the exits on every visit to the theatre.
The apartments that were 700 dollars three years ago are now 2000. First, last deposit- and buy a refrigerator, your place doesn't come with one. The competition for cans and bottles at the dumpsters isn't the homeless anymore. It's the people trying not to be homeless.
As a woman, would you like to know what your sell-by date is? Come out here. It's probably already passed. You just don't know it. You will once you get here, as people feel free to tell you. Men look over your size 6, yoga-buffed shoulder to see if something better/younger is available, and are surprised if you mind.
The film industry, a delightful cash cow for most of my career, is drying up and diversifying to online delivery. Jobs pay *half* what they did 10 years ago. Editing is seen as something anyone can do, and pays accordingly unless one is Union. Camera people are lumped in with amateurs as well. Film festivals are largely the poorly made products of this digital dreck.
The freeways, already legendary, now much worse.
The delightful melting pot of cultures has degenerated into mini-ethnic wars. Goods and services paid for by longtime taxpayers are seen as free stuff by more recent arrivals, who've exhausted the supply. Diapers left on the beaches. All the BBQ pits at the parks staked out by mid-morning. Rumors of million-dollar mansions with their owners on welfare and driving European cars, their kids going to college, for free.
Of all these things, the one thing that has finally broken my heart here is seeing the maverick retailers close their wonderful little boutiques, because the rents have gotten so high. All the trendy redeveloped areas now have the same stores. It's like being in a Fred Flintstone cartoon.
There's still the Coast Highway and there's still the amazing smell of LA at night from a seat at the Hollywood Bowl. But it's not enough for me, anymore.
