If I Can’t Afford Awesome, Where Should I Live?

by John Schoenkopf

So I’m moving back to Los Angeles in the next few weeks, or whenever my since-folded employer of yesteryear legally has to mail my W-2 form out to me, thereby kickstarting the process of gettin’ mah money back from Uncle Sam and the G-Men in the form of a hefty tax refund.

I place great emphasis on the word hefty. In one of the few good choices I’ve ever made in my star-cross’d existence, I filled out my tax form thingy honestly and had them take out as much moolah as they could, so that by the time the end of the year came around, I would have some extra dough to piss away on things like ceramic eggs and gold Jesus chains.

This year, I’m gonna use it for rent, because this year I have no sugar mama, and I works for a living.

I’m not going to lie: I’m a little scared of my financial situation. Rent is expensive in Silverlake, where I really ought to live seeing as though I don’t drive and my work is more or less located there. I can always live in some neighboring, less awesome hamlet like El Sereno or Monterey Park, but Asian gangs might shoot me, and the only gangs I’m afraid of are Asian ones, because in movies they drive really cool motorcycles and are so ruthless and efficient in their killing.

So if I can’t afford awesome, where should I live?

Silverlake

If we head west from the San Gabriel Valley’s scary gangs (’cause I’m sure as hell not going to head East), we have downtown L.A. I’m not living in downtown LA. No way, no how, not in the summer when it’s smoggy and hot and I don’t drive. Not jumping on that train to that bus to that other bus to feel a breeze. I don’t care what lofts there cost. It’s dreary and depressing and there are no public bathrooms and sometimes I have to pee.

I’ve always been romantically fascinated with the possibility of living in Leimert Park, with its awesome history, jazz clubs, hip-hop open mics, health food stores, proximity to museums, mostly because I’d be the only white guy there living in and amongst all that awesomeness. I also have a good friend who operates a marijuana dispensary right there on Crenshaw, further adding to the appeal of this lesser-known semi-hood smack south of the University of Southern California and its myriad athletic cheating scandals (go Bruins!). I’ll be keeping this place on my short list of possibles.

Next up we have the mid-city area, and, talk about something being eponymous, mid-city is a perfect name for a completely indistinct region, short on dynamicism and heavy on traffic passing through. No offense, as it’s a totally nice and tree-shaded area and it’s conveniently ten minutes from everything, but there is absolutely nothing going on there but full size homes way out of my financial reach and zero walkability. My sister lives here, happily, and unless she’s offering up her couch, then mid-city gets a big no.

Pasadena, I refer to affectionately as “Guam.” There is absolutely no reason to drive in that direction. I could not feasibly live there. I’ve lived in Los Angeles more or less for 27 years. I’ve been to Pasadena three and a half times. I heard the Gold Line goes there. Good for it. Figure out a purpose in life, Pasadena, or risk complete irrelevance.

I’ve already written for this site about my inability to afford the South Bay as a residing area, but let me recap for the several billion of you who missed that article: It’s no longer hospitable to young and broke types like it was fifteen years ago when I was growing up in Hermosa. Yeah, it’s as far from Silverlake as one can get and still be in Los Angeles, but the glory that is a tiny drinking town right on the water for the summer can be enough of an incentive to get a second job.

What sayeth I about Santa Monica? I say it’s for 40-year-old women who already have things like cars and houses. It’s also a great place to go to junior college for seven, count ’em, seven years. But the vibe is a tad old for this 27-year-old boy. Make no mistake, I am certainly not a man. And there’s no affording Santa Monica in my immediate future.

Venice is getting closer to my needs than its more stately neighbor to the north, but something about it seems off. I grew up in Hermosa, with its pristine beaches, so my Pacific palate is grossed out by the water there, negating the draw of it being oceanside. Condoms, diapers, Taco Bell wrappers—these things need not float near me when I’m bodysurfing. The people there are AWESOME, but they seem like they don’t really live there. And it’s pretty cold and cloudy all summer long. Fuck the marine layer, man. Superficially and on its surface, Venice and I seem like a perfect match, but there are definitely a few things about it that don’t feel right.

West Hollywood would be great fit for me, but for that whole insanely expensive thing. I’m still kind of good looking, so maybe I could get a deal somewhere from a gay guy as long as there were clear boundaries that while I’m very vain and flattered, nothing sexual would ever go down. But how do you put an ad on CraigsList for something like that?

It looks like I’m gonna have to settle for the ghetto, which I’m cool with. It can be Leimert Park, or other ones I haven’t had the chance to fully research yet, like the friendly confines of Boyle Heights or the rustic and charming North of Downtown/Chinatown region where the Airliner is.

Silverlake, for now, you remain slightly out of my financial grasp, I’m sorry to say. Check back with me in a few months, and we’ll see if we can work something out.

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