Day 1:
So I've just arrived in Los Angeles, California, having traversed the North American Great Plains on horseback. I came all the way from New York City, where I've been living an average East Village-cowgirl existence: drinking Stella Artois and talking about the merits of laceless Converse. It was a long, dusty, heroine-fueled road to LA, and my ass is chapped from the old leather saddle. And also because I didn't wear pants the entire time. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't just buy a JetBlue ticket, and also why I feel the need to pretend I'm a cowgirl and lie about having ridden horseback to get here. But sometimes in life, there are questions that will go unanswered.
As I rode off Wilshire Blvd. into my first LA sunset atop my mustang pony Mustang Pony, a sage homeless woman wisely muttered to herself: Do coke. Listen to Yanni.
It is here that my adventure begins.
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