Part One: Intro
[bass thump] Wassup wassup! I just wanna say [double-orchestra blast] dis one goes out to all the hataz up in here dat said I'd neva cut a record again, y'all feel me? [vintage guitar riff] So ladies and gentlemen... fresh from da lab in Palms... Death Row now pruh-zents... [scratchy vintage drum roll]
Oh. Uh, whoops. That's not the intro to the essay; that's the intro to my next album, Tryz II Killz Me N I Jus' Livz Longa , due out sometime this fall. Just a little cut-and-paste snafu. You know how it is.
Anyway. The real intro.
I don't know L.A. all that well, at least not as well as people who grew up here (though perhaps at least as well as people who say they grew up in L.A. but actually grew up in, like, Bakersfield). Then again, what does it mean to know L.A. well? Who can say they really do? How many rhetorical questions with extraneously italicized words can one get away with before one needs to make some kind of point? Don't you hate when people use "one" instead of "you" or "I" even though it's gramatically correct in the most technical sense? Don't people realize it sounds about as dorky as actually saying "that man is taller than I" even though that's also, technically, the correct way?
Okay, I think that's it for the intro. This is why I self-publish.
Eventually I might have some stuff to say about Westwood, and why some aspects of it are cool while others pretty much suck. Like the fact that one 50-foot stretch has Bebe, Ann Taylor Loft, and Victoria's Secret, but if you're a guy and want, well, anything garmentlike, you're basically shit out of luck. Yeah, I'll talk about some of those things later.