I come from Los Angeles where Yoga, wheat grass, chai lattes, and world religions are commonplace. On the weekends I take the metrolink to Downtown, Chinatown, J-Town, and other ethnic boroughs because I seek substance for stories. I have found that motley battlegrounds do not exist in the suburbs, and that luxury sedans do not characterize the beauty of the city. I take interest in the dilapidated buildings from the 1930’s. I embrace the broken bus with the broken driver. I enjoy fantasizing about being the next Scorsese or Tarantino. Whenever I manage to catch a glimpse of the aesthetic multitudes that permeate from Sunset Boulevard to Fairfax Avenue, I turn ideas and scenes over in my head and I construct cinematic episodes that I hope will make it to the Oscars one day. I am mesmerized by watching babbling schizophrenics, teenage mothers, doctors, bohemian hipsters, and aspiring actors converge to cross streets and sidewalks. I muse over capitalism as Los Angeles’ finest executives seek Pershing Square to fuel cars and hunger alike. I devour atmospheric edibles at Musso & Frank’s in dwarfing red booths, where the smell of cigarettes lingers among the shadows of Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Standing in line at Pink’s Hot Dogs in mid morning satisfies post-rage outings of excess and indulgence. I swoon for the women that drive convertibles behind sunglasses and expensive smiles, and I seduce myself into daydreaming delirium over city heydays that echo in the glory of “The Bradbury” and the Central Library. I am the constant observer, and I believe in salvation not found in divinity, but rather redemption that is rooted in learning from other people. I am convinced that chaotic crescendos and euphoric episodes echo in both barrios and aristocratic estates. Los Angeles is teemed with tragedy and ecstasy, and I am liberated in finding the diversity of perspective. I want to expound on aesthetic exposés of man’s torments because we all need to be saved by solace in knowing that we are watched and understood. Los Angeles has me under its arms and it has given me passion. I will create films that are sympathetic to the urban madness because I aspire to share the lives of others—but most of all, I am exhumed by a Los Angeles appetite, unwavering in its ability to donate eclectic eulogies.