“I arrived†he wrote “in Los Angeles today, the city of Angels, Hollywood, Westward American dreams and roller-skating guitar playing freaks.â€
Castro was excited to be in a city he had only dreamed of during his 32 years. He didn’t visit the city earlier because he felt he wanted to do it right, do it in style and do it without limits. He waited all these years because he only had dreams of driving the Pacific Coast Highway in a red mustang convertible and didn’t want to do it until he could afford to rent one.
Out of the airport and the Budget car rental shop Castro finally felt as if the dream were beginning. He put the top down on his mint condition, candy apple red, V.8 Mustang at the first stop light. On green he accelerated and felt the moist LA breeze fly through his big curly afro. “Freedom†he said to no one in particular as he looked for the 405 Highway to West Hollywood.
“Here I am lying on my stomach, gazing out at a magnificent view of LA from one of Hollywood’s most famous Hotels. My bed is large, much too large for one person (note to self: find a girl) the curtains are blue flowers and white, looks like some pop art crap from the sixties. To my right is a silver bean bag, I’m going to chill on that for a while and take in the view,†added Castro in his diary as he got up from the bed and moved to the bean bag.
Falling carelessly into the soft cushion of the silver sack Castro threw his hands back behind his head, stretched his legs toward the sliding glass door and slowly inhaled the air of the city. “This is truly the first day of the rest of my life,†he thought. Read More…