Love Letters from L.A.: poems from before...

By Kasandra Livingston

Poetry from, about, and leaving Los Angeles.
The City of Angeles, Demons, and the Damaged before Covid 19.
"You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll move to Florida!" - Van Nuys UHaul Assistant Manage - I'm just doing this in-between auditions.

"It's Russian Disinformation." - Congressman Adam Schiff

"I used this book to balance the coffee table wit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Space Butterfly Books
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578951843

Book preview

Shopping List

Water

Free Range Brown Eggs

Bleach

Blueberry Bagels

Ammunition

Lithium

Arugula

Almond Milk

Quinoa

Xanax

Greek Yogurt

Olive Oil

Condoms

Teeth White Strips

Mini Quiches

Mochi

Nicotine Patches

Donuts for AA

Pepto Bismol

Mangos

Three Hole Punch

Salsa

Red Bull

Mocha Edibles

Lint Roller

Hemorrhoid Cream

Green Bananas

St. John’s Wort

Prozac

Tequila

Vodka

Tomato Soup

Pinot Noir

Swedish Fish

Skittles

Hair Extensions

Cotton Balls

Hand Cuffs

Antiseptic

Microwave Popcorn

Band Aids

Coach Bag from Santee Alley

Deodorant w/o aluminum

Cool Ranch Doritios

Sugar Free Cherry Jello

Super Glue

Sushi

Spanx

7 Grain Whole Wheat Muffins

Wasabi Sauce

Botox

Organic, Low-fat Peanut Butter

Bacon

Foie gras

Duck Tape

Oranges

Kitty Litter

Stamps

Magic Hour

The last hour before sunset, when the light is glorious

and perfect

for shooting...

It's Always Sunny in L.A.

FADE IN: 

EXT: SUNNY DAY

You don't know L.A. if you don't hate it a little. This is the thing.

There is no in between. No indifference. It is not for the faint of heart, it is not for the pure of heart. It is for the foolish of heart. And all things spring from this. Elegant, bold, stupid, contained. The essence of life that knows full well the beauty of birth and the foul scent of excrement from eating the dead. It is the stuff of us. And we are food for God and bugs at the same time. And we paint ourselves as the dead so we might not die in

celluloid, preserved, the eternal in  memory.

Heliotropic

When given a choice

and faced with the bleak night

Be like the starlet seedling,

and bend towards the sun shiny light

Everything we care about,

everything we dare

Everything we long for,

the pains unjustly shared

There is the oppression,

the politics of pain

The hope for something more,

then the impetus to lie down from a withering shame

The lilac doesn’t know,

the seed has no care

The maple waits in winter:

our consciousness: the splintered cross to bear

Yet with the screams of unreason;

falling bridges; dreams define the night

The dessert parched and barren;

still be the lost lotus, bends towards the light

When death casts its shadow;

parts we cannot understand; what we become

When love has forsaken,

we must come undone to be redone

The one choice that we have;

the humanity that is both brutal and bright

Asks us one thing:

simply: bend towards the blistering light

When the dance becomes us,

as we are the dance

All the small choices go beyond

seeming mathematical chance

When given a choice

and faced with the darkening night

Be like the starlet seedling,

and bend towards the sun shiny light.

L.A. Seasons

In January

comes the crystalline sparkle of Harry Winston icicles

Awards Season has finally come

drifting down with For Your Consideration Ads,

each unique and delicate, 

and special, the Southern Way

The cool bags of SWAG

Security need not be on the list, naughty or nice.

Then comes Sweeps

When all young executives’ thoughts turn to romance

for the eighteen-to-thirty-year-old-female demographic

and all the good series come out to blossom

with