Eat. Pray. Love. Rethink Genius.

Elizabeth Gilbert talks about how to calm the anxieties associated with being an artist.

Thanks Jennrock!

Box of Broken Dreams: In Search of a Soul Lost and Found in LA

Work was soooooo slow last night. Nobody wanted sushi on Superbowl Sunday. I had the rare chance to read an entire story in LA Weekly. I just couldn't put it down. It's a long read but well worth it.

BOX OF BROKEN DREAMS: IN SEARCH OF A SOUL LOST AND FOUND IN L.A.
A young photographer's belongings are abandoned on a Hollywood street, leaving our writer to piece together the fragments of his life.
BY MARK GROUBERT

Oh, yeah, sure. Tell me you haven’t done it. You’re walking along and you see that box of stuff near the curb. You know the box. The one with scratched picture frames, a pretty darn good dish rack, slightly scuffed shoes, a VHS copy of Jagged Edge, maybe a tattered Friends script next to a torn Scarface poster. There are books you don’t have but don’t really want, various half-used toiletries and some clothing that looks really interesting, if you lost weight. A lot of weight.

You know the box. The box that’s left by folks who are not moving to another place in Los Angeles, but home. Home to Wallace, Idaho, or Quincy, Illinois. Home to Greenville, Alabama, or Ardmore, Oklahoma. Small-town America. The places where dreams are born. The box is the stuff that can’t fit in the back of the U-Haul. The box is the life being left behind.

It is the box of broken dreams.

Sometimes we stare in wonder. Sometimes we turn away in embarrassment. Sometimes we just keep walking. Sometimes we actually rustle through the box. At least, I do.

FULL STORY