in l.a. / you can’t find her

In L.A., city of my youth, city I escaped from but can never fully escape from, city I take with me everywhere.

Today as I was scrambling around the E3 show floor and thinking about how tonight, Joseph Arthur would be playing at the Troubadour in this city and that I wouldn’t be able to go, this recording from a show of his at the Troubadour a few years ago came up on my phone. 

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From ancient forests to the streets of L.A., the setting may change but the quest remains the same.

Your black Lexus has 200,000 miles underneath the missing roads
You don’t know where you’re going almost anytime
Things lost just lighten up your load
Maybe you’re headin’ out to L.A.,
See if they’ll put you in a show
First you’ll check with the stars, read both your sign and mine
In the back of the New York Post

But you can’t find her
You can’t find her
In the mirror, everything’s reverse
You can’t find her
You can’t find her
Every day, you look a little worse

Now your car’s been towed
You misread the signs
There was something left to do
It must have just slipped your mind
Got no money left
Guess you’ll just stick around
And anyway the stars said not to go right now

But you can’t find her
You can’t find her
In the mirror, everything’s reverse
You can’t find her
You can’t find her
Every day, you look a little worse