Mary McNamara: September is the cruelest month — at least in LA
If I ever leave Los Angeles, it will not be because of the traffic, or the city's inability to aid the unhoused, or even the sight of all those celebrity lawns in the middle of a drought.
No, the only thing that could force me out of my chosen home of three decades is September.
September in Los Angeles is the worst — a culturally manipulative, psychologically abusive, dirty con of a month.
It is officially the first month of fall, conjuring up all that season's comforting hallmarks: crisp "sweater weather," mellow light, changing leaves, evenings in front of a crackling fire and pumpkin spice everything.
But even before global warming turned California into a where September in L.A. was always
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