As They Say, "Everyone is Someone in Hollywood."

Waking up on the other side of the country feels different.

It smells different; it tastes different; it looks different.

Enlightening is the word that comes to mind.

The only unsettling thing is this new nomadic lifestyle:

Waking up in a new hotel room everyday

Writing on notepads, hiding letters to future wanderers

Living out of weekly suitcases and travel bags

Continental breakfasts and squeaky elevator doors

Dry heat and mountainous nose bleeds

I record voice memos just to remind myself that I have a voice

I touch the street corners off of Sunset blvd. just to feel something

And it's fun to pretend that we spent time here once, alone

In a time long ago before it was overcrowded with binoculars, maps, and overgrown sunglasses

That we had our own places, you and I

We were regulars at the Coffee Bean off of Argyle Avenue

That the clerks at the Grove knew us by name

We were one, and we shed all, if any, discomforts down Fairfax

And, as it was in their nature, the crowds would smile

As if they knew that it was some kind of celebrity crush

But the hotel sheets aren't as soft as I remember

The company a bit bleak and lyrics a bit dim

And it's hard to duck under mirrors everyday

Without anyone getting a little suspicious

As I begin to scream your name throughout the canyons,

And whistle your songs in every crevice of this place,

I'll live everyday by your voice and your aching presence

That seems to surround every pulsing muscle wrapped around my shaking bones

It isn't your fault that your needs weren't met here on the west coast

But it won't stop me from recreating you on every mountainside.