A simple Google search could clear that up. I moved for the month of February to Silver Lake, the hipster artsy area of LA. Like much of the rest of LA, there is still significant sprawl. It has some elements of walkability, but it’s still mostly designed to be driven.

Cold, rainy LA and warm, sunny LA are two different places. It’s hard to compare geography without that layer.

My apartment is quiet, artsy. It has a hallowed feel about it. My friend Lily came to pick me up the other day, and I think she was scared. “I’m at the pink house,” she said. I ran out to Decanso and saw her Volvo parked in front of a gorgeous pink house. “Uh no, wrong pink house.” I redirected her to my alleyway entrance. And to be fair, it does have a creepy motel vibe about it. It’s Silver Lake, not Beverly Hills. The scene may suggest murder, but you’re probably going to be fine.

The apartment itself is dark, hence the hallowed feel, and spacious by NYC standards. There are a number of guitars in alignment, which give it a sort of Russian matryoshka doll feel to them (they’re the doll containers inside of doll containers). Above the desk is a hanging line with all sorts of interesting stuff hanging. Signed drawings. NASA prints of “Star-forming Nebula NGC 3603.” A piece of stained glass in the formation of a boat. An ethnic cap. A signed portrait of Mark Vande Hei, some astronaut. A silver plated mask.

I froze for a week until I realized I could turn on the heat.

The apartment is right off of the main thoroughfare, Sunset Blvd. There are a string of vegetarian and vegan-friendly friends, a few breakfast/lunch-only places, a dog-themed cafe, and a bunch of other coffee shops right near me. There are also a number of taco stands, trucks, free-standing house-like establishments. All just for tacos and burritos. Given that I’m trying to stay vegan–or at least vegetarian–they are invisible to me. On Saturdays and Tuesdays, there is a farmer’s market that pops up a few blocks away.

I usually spend my mornings meditating, exercising, and exploring a new cafe. I like the sense of community. Everyone seems to want to engage and to be your friend. I like it, but it makes me mistrustful, an instinct I may want to curb.

I’m starting to learn how to live like a normal person again. It’s been years and years, I’ve realized. I’m very tentative about doing normal person activities like laundry and cooking. Or even staying in my apartment for any extended period of time other than to sleep.

Step by step.

I’ve wandered up staircases painted like a rotated piano keyboard up to the hills. I joined a yoga studio and a gym. It feels like I walk hours to get there, so I have been relying on Uber. It still feels like I’m playing house, but I think if I play long enough, it might become real.