by Joseph Grant
They are, like, totally finished with the sun over here in Los Angeles; it's done, passe, in other words, it's not hot, dude. A walk into any tanning salon will prove this observation in a town where the actors stride around in their unnatural Cheetos shine. They don't do reality out here, they just make movies, a playwright friend once told me. If you want reality, go back to New York, the film producer barks and throws me and my script out of the office. I am once again outside on the giant set of suburban L.A. where they've gotten it all backwards; these people walking along the sidewalk are all the wrong-looking extras, they're too ordinary, their dialogues are unremarkable, apparently there's no script and the trees block the shot down the street, hell, even the earthquakes seem faked. With the door shut behind me, I am relieved to be home, having escaped the freeways, the gangs and the gloomy smog of this dream factory nightmare, finding my way and my truth in the light of the worlds that are composed along a crisp white page.
6S
Joseph Grant, author of It, is originally from New York City and currently resides in Los Angeles. His short stories have been published in over 50 literary reviews and e-zines, such as Byline, New Authors Journal, Howling Moon Press, Hack Writers, New Online Review, Indite Circle and Cerebral Catalyst.