For Tonight or An Evening Call

Ishy Christihe, An Evening , May 2022.

“For Tonight” 

An evening call, 

They come in their airstream and bring the city with them.  A  bright Diner with  a neon city skyline,  

Like a Billboard you’d  find in Times Square.

They carry a piece of home with them wherever they go. 

Steaks and potatoes grill on the barbeque on a big wide deck, So they bring a chocolate mousse cake and whine from a winery in Brooklyn. 

Everyone’s dressed in jean shorts and bright colored t’s, while they dig their boot heals in the desert dirt rocking black leggings and  black loose fit cable knit sweaters.  Their own neighbors in the valley say they’re goths in their dark wardrobe, or smear their noses at the couple calling them New York Snobs,  

But up here they’re amongst friends who they’ve known since back East, the one place out in SoCal they feel at home.

One day they’ll get sick of the phony, shallow, bouncy and too sunny expectations of Los Angeles and all its bullshit. 

Lorrain will flop her bag on the couch and cry out “I had it” after being looked down upon one too many times for taking the bus to and from work by her so-called co-workers, acting like she’s a sad homeless person or a drunk for choosing not to drive. 

Or the day Martina has had it with all the snooty industry parties, where producers and hot models rub elbow around a pool and the models are ordered to lose ten pounds of their already too small waistlines.  The hillside mansions are surrounded by overpriced and over shined cars, professionally car washed, and more sparkling than their sad looking apartment buildings in The Valley that look more like nursing homes with their flat beige walls, and charmless windows and doors.  Their sparkling blue Priuses parked in a garage, making even the busiest of streets perpetually deserted, are better cared for than their own dogs who live in crates, so they won’t leap up on the furniture, and behave like… well, dogs.  At some point Lorrain and Martina will get sick of the so-called Rat race of Los Angeles and head back to New York, with it’s four seasons and apartments filled with character and the streets filled with shops and sounds, and a rumbling of the subway is heard from their favorite library they frequented in the outer boroughs.  

Maybe it will be the day Martina throughs in the towel saying “fuck you” to the Hollywood business for getting fired as a regular recurring extra for “failing” ghost school a made-up required corse to take in order to land a spot on the latest Paranomral series to last only two seasons on Netflix because the show was just awful in the end.  

Lorraine coult proclaim for LA to kiss her fat New York Ass,  while Martina wold move back and go back to teaching drama and film making for the true art of it at NYU Tich school and Lorraine would go back to teaching adorable kindergarteners who she missed every day.  Even if they were also from a private academy on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, they weren’t at all like the winy, spoiled and down right kind of dumb brats the rich kids at the academy in Westwood are in LA.  One day they’ll give up on all this West Coast nonsense,  

But tonight, Martina and Lorrain enjoy a balmy February evening with their friends, laughing in agreement that if LA was portrayed in TV and movies the way it really is, no one would live there. 

For tonight their New York Lights brighten up the large evening sky,

Neighbors who speak too quietly just to get a rise out of others, gawk in suspicion,  but tonight they shrug oh well.  

Because tonight they are proud to be misfits,  

Inside a very temporary home.