Megan Robertson
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Journal

Los Angeles.

L.A. was fire. Literally, Burbank was on fire while I was out there - in the car one night, my comrades and I looked out the window to see the mountains illuminated by a rash of wildfires. Disconcerting to see on the way to a party. The temperatures were in the triple digits the whole time, too, so I got a couple curve balls. I'd like to think I sweatily knocked 'em out of the park.

The last time I visited L.A., I was mourning the loss of my previous camera and shooting on film (which... I have yet to develop). Since my preferred method of traveling is with a camera glued to my face, it was so gratifying to photograph every inch of every place I visited this time. Walking through Griffith Park was possibly the most non-athletically sweaty I've ever been in my life, though. I didn't even notice at the time, but I got a blister and ended up bleeding all over my sock and shoe. Obliviousness is the secret to my stamina.

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That night (after cleaning the sweat and blood - surprisingly no tears - off my body), my friend and host Josh and I fancied the hell up and went to Osteria Mozza, also known as heaven on earth. In the spirit of living (ahem, eating) in the moment, I didn't take many pictures. Jesse Tyler Ferguson walked past our table during the main course, but the real star of the show was our waitress, Alyssa. We love you, Alyssa.

If you go, you could pick menu items at random and have the best meal of your life. But in particular, don't miss out on the rosemary olive oil cakes. In the future, when I'm sad, I'm going to think about the rosemary brittle I ate on that night, and I'll feel better.

All I'll say about LACMA is that museums are best experienced right after bottomless mimosas. We went through the galleries and played my favorite art critique game in each room: Personal Fave, Objective Best, and Burn It With Fire. (Self explanatory.)

On my last day, my accommodating, lovely, and long-suffering L.A. locals drove me out to Malibu. The trip itself was a perfect storm of navigation confusion and closed parking lots, but we persisted, parked, and climbed over some rocks into the dreamiest cove I've ever seen. It actually felt like a dream - waves crashing, a thin veil of fog over everything, the shadow of a massive boat floating along the horizon.

This wasn't my first trip to L.A., or my last. So long, California, and thanks for all the succulents.