So I took a jaunt up to WeHo the other day for a change of writing venue. You see, I’m a bit of a library whore (no, not that kind, the kind who visits libraries as one of her top sightseeing stops when in a new city). I was looking for a new spot to spur on the novel’s muse.
Here’s what I found:
Behold, the West Hollywood literary core, the nerve-centre of culture, the thinking person’s refuge. The place looked like a grade school forgotten since 1976. Dirty windows. Sloppy signs taped to walls. Bruised furniture and fixtures.
The upside is that the tiny place was busy. People filled the archaic PC stations (even the ones marked “out of order”), others trolled the stacks, and there appeared to be ample staff for all.
I can’t help but notice the utter lack of upkeep for what should be a community centre and bank of knowledge. West Hollywood spends on cultural events, transportation infrastructure, and city beautification. I hope, like my beloved City of Santa Monica, there are plans for restoration and expansion of this classic structure so the West Hollywood will have a library to match its formidable cultural presence.