L.A.

It's cold, and the traffic has disappeared since the last time I was here. Instead: empty shopping malls, empty parking lots, and the feel of a recession. Actually, everything looks like a scene from Nathanael West's The Day of the Locust. I'd quote from it, but it's back in my apartment in Brooklyn. Suffice to say: mismatched houses, imported exotic plants and construction materials, the occasional turret, and a plethora of pets and track pants. (Those last may not have been in the book.) Oh, my home is magical.