The Alexandria Hotel sits on the corner of S. Spring St. and 4th downtown Los Angeles. There is a decrepit bar on the bottom floor where Austin and I were condescendingly teased for our youngish looks by the 30 something year old bar tender, with long blond hair, tattoo sleeves, and tired eyes. She is singing along to Motorhead while she told us this, as if to really emphasize her point. We smiled and drank our beers. On their website The Alexandria Hotel describes itself as: "Formerly one of the premier hotels in the country, The Alexandria played host to numerous Hollywood legends including Charlie Chaplin, Humphrey Bogart, Mae West, Rudolph Valentino, Clark Gable, and Greta Garbo. Winston Churchill and several U.S. Presidents, including William Taft, Woodrow Wilson, and Theodore Roosevelt, were also guests. For an attainable price you can now live in the same residence as these legendary celebrities and create your own history. Come experience the Downtown renaissance." Everything about this place is a relic of what it used to be, but now just fits comfortably out of place, including Austin and I.
We were at The Alexandria Hotel for a purpose--to say good-bye to my roommate Lauren, who embodies a new bread of artist--somewhere between expression and technology. We walked in about an hour late to Lauren's 'good-bye LA' art show/ going away shindig. At the show we watched some modern dancers talk about the centaur and a minimalist sit quietly in hovering shoes that are only available in the future. A girl wrote the alphabet with her feet on the walls as an expression of her childhood struggle with dyslexia-- something that resonated closely with me. Most of the performance pieces' meanings were latent to me and I didn't try to force their meaning, while Austin who sat next to me intently attempted to decipher their meaning--I admire Austin's relentless craving for artistic immersion.
The show ended and we lingered and mingled while sipping on free wine and beer. Afterward we left The Alexandria Hotel and walked over to a bar, also on Spring St. This is where the finals good-byes were said and where Austin gets the side of his head shaved off by a modern dancer, who just moments before at the show did a dance number inspired by Dance Dance Revolution. Nothing is monumental about this night, but it feels right--it feels like a California summer night.
Narcissistically yours,
D.
