I (Really) Love L.A.
by Miles Klee
For years now, whenever my partner Mads and I drive back into the city after a few days traveling elsewhere, we roll down the windows and blast Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.”
Neither of us is from here. Mads grew up on the west coast, in California’s Central Valley and then Oregon; I am one of the curiously numerous transplants from New Jersey. Once, at a party we threw here in L.A., I realized that I was standing in a circle of six or seven friends exclusively from New Jersey. Not that I pick my friends this way. Maybe we just understand the sprawl.
Though I do like people from New Jersey.
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