Friday, February 15, 2008

I've realized in my current manuscript, that I'm writing about Los Angeles. Not the Los Angeles that is, or was, or probably ever could be. Parts of Los Angeles, stolen from its grave, and stitched together to reconfigure into a Frankenstein creature that is just recognizable beneath the staples and metal thread.

Is this becoming a story I could not have written without seeing those freeways that make up Los Angeles' circulatory system? Cars its blood cells, commuters its oxygen. Limbs tangled around coast and mountains.

Possibly. Maybe. Yes.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I've recently been reading a book called "Invisible Cities" by Italo Calvino. In the book, Marco Polo describes various fantastic cities to Kublai Khan. Each is unusual in its own way, like a city devoid of anything but plumbing and inhabited only by water nymphs, or a city built over a chasm doomed to eventual destruction.

Some of the reviews say that every city Calvino writes about is actually Venice.

I don't know much about Venice so I can't really judge that, but it does seem plausible.