<<It's possible to say that Chandler's stories seem
believable today
because the world they depict seems like some exotic golden
age these
days. A fantasy world that might actually have existed. Hell,
we're
talking about LA after all . . . it's still some sort of
fantasy
world.>>
Indeed, there's nothing like LA. During the years I lived
there, I saw,
heard, and experienced things that seemed directly taken out
of fiction.
One night my garage got broken into; the next morning, I put
a new
padlock on the roll-up door and joked with my wife that
perhaps they
would come back the next day and steal the padlock, too.
Well, they did.
I even "staged" an LA scene on the day we moved away: I left
four
partially full bottles of liquor, carefully arranged, in the
alley
behind our house, across from an enormous pile of discarded
household
items (which, to be on topic and preempt administrative
wrath, included
several of Robert Parker's Spenser novels). Within 45
minutes, three
bums had discovered the booty and were having themselves a
regular party
- both with the stuff and the liquor. I took several good
pictures,
which indeed seem to be out of a movie.
Another time, a bum knocked on my door to complain that when
digging in
my garbage bins he had been bitten by a rat!
But enough of this - we are a serious list.
Regards,
Mario Taboada
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