Postcards from the Edge

Are you feeling alright? 

It’s easy, we’ve been there before 

But it feels like the flight 

Of the von Trapps Does that mean it's war?

– Pet Shop Boys

One thing that gives me pleasure these days is comparing the LAPD cars to the NYPD ones. 9/11 brought major budget increases to the police force in New York, culminating in awesomely souped-up blue & whites that look sleek and sound off louder than ever before. Here in LA the cars may be souped-up but you’d never notice it: they’re still black & white and, comparatively speaking, look like shit. And the lights on top are now flat, lest you notice them through your rear-view mirror. Flatting those lights must equal some form of police castration. Still, they win because they’re everywhere. Just as omnipresent as they are in NYC except the percentage of undercover police presence may actually be higher here.

It’s no secret there’s a large contingent of young homeless people ’round these parts. Being in their well-worn shoes means dodging cop cars, large white vans (security officers) and anyone wearing a badge. It’s a constant shuffle from one location to another, usually resulting in the settling into of some spot that every dog and human has used for a bathroom. Each day is epic and there is never a dull moment. Mental illness seeps in and it becomes difficult to discern whether the illness came first or the homelessness. Childhoods and time in prison leave scars that never heal, and one kid in particular, whom I will call Beau since he reminds me of a young Beau Bridges, has far too much brutal experience in his eyes for someone his age. Blond, handsome and smart as a whip; Beau travels through the day with his cohorts getting high and scoring cigarettes. Anything resembling a conventional life is of no interest whatsoever. In fact, it’s the kiss of death. “Hey, you wanna adopt me?” he asks a female passerby. She laughs at his joke but keeps on walking.

Someone else I’ve come to know, who is not homeless, is suffering from major PTSD having been a fireman, a paramedic and an active gang member. He’s my age and wants desperately to change his life for the better. Also smart as a whip, he can’t turn his mind off. His defense mechanisms have been cranked up past the boiling point for much too long, and he’s fried. He’s also hot as hell, and I’m hoping something might transpire. Cuz I luvs me sum dark chocolate! (I AM Amanda Bynes in Hairspray.) He’s straight though. Again, I’m gravitating toward straight guys. What’s going on?! And I’m even getting my groove on with these dudes.

These are only two out of many I’ve met who are going through it. Choosing LA as a place to turn your life around, get it together, survive…it’s a dicey proposition. Here everyone is a hustler–hustling for something–and little attention is paid to those who have slipped through the cracks. Personally, I look up to the palm trees reaching for the sun to find my higher ground. But then there are those law enforcement helicopters swarming around like buzzards….

Finally, I find peace and quite on the set of CSI: NY nestled in a backlot in Studio City, CA. This is what I’m here for, this is why I’m here. Check. Glad I don’t have a problem playing a cop on TV. That would certainly undermine my employment opportunities. Go ahead, call me a hypocrite. It won’t phase me. I’m in Hollywood.