Back in the heatwave of June, I told an acquaintance on the nightclub side of the hill where I lived. Van Nuys is the Devil’s asshole, he announced without hesitation. He was referring to the heat, but his tone suggested something more.
Every kingdom has its Lord, I replied, half-joking.
If not I, what shape would this lord take? Who would be the definitive representation of our sun-splashed, slightly noirish Brigadoon? He might have a weapon protruding from underneath him, like a tail. He might have his fist around a bottle of Jack Daniels, crisp jeans and a gold watch. He would be rusticating in the middle of the day, which is how I found him after I dropped $1100 on maintenance for my trusty Honda CRV, which makes me very much an un-Lordly figure.
Ziggy, on the other hand…he knows who’s the boss.
Stoker has no sense of irony, and zero pity. If you want a portrait of dominion, look no further.
Lords, all of them. I welcome submissions and nominations.