Because you go to your daughter’s dance recital at North Hollywood High and amidst the clutter and nonsense of parents getting tots and slightly-bigger-than-tots ready for their appearance on stage, you say to yourself, “Hey, that’s John Wells in the row ahead of me.” He delivered the commencement when you graduated with your MFA from USC. You wonder if you should introduce yourself.
Because your friend whose daughter is in the other dance class for 3-year-olds mentions that Eddie Murphy’s daughter is in their class and you wonder if you should switch to that class, just to see the kid, ’cause you know the dad ain’t dropping by.
Because when you take your kids to Art’s Deli for lunch, you say to yourself, “Hey, Joe Mantegna! And that guy is…Paul Williams? The Phantom of the Paradise guy?” You still remember the day you were there with your friends after yoga and Paul Thomas Anderson and Fiona Apple came in. Before your friend confirmed who the couple were, you thought Fiona Apple kind of looked like another goddamn Fiona Apple clone.
Because every single barista at Starbucks is a musician, plays in a band, or already has a friggin’ recording contract and they’re still mixin’ the Frappucinos.
Because your friend Mary is in town to pitch every studio and producer in sight with her latest sure-fire pitch, and she makes you realize that you don’t have to live in LA. Well, I guess that’s not so much scary as unbelievably empowering. Although you’re sad she won’t be able to stay with you on future visits, because you won’t have a house here for her to crash at. However, she’ll probably be able to afford a little pied-a-terre in Beverly Hills any minute now.
Because you just don’t expect to be able to go through a green light until 3 or 4 cars going the other direction have finished going through the intersection.
Because it’s March 11 and unbelievably gorgeous out. 80 yesterday, maybe 75 today.