I used to flirt with the idea of disappearing.
What’s the point of designing your own small business to function without you, if you can’t take advantage of the “without you” part? Haven’t I earned the right to operate my whole situation remotely from a beach while committing a poetic act of Tim Ferriss geo-arbitrage? I pondered those questions deeply.
I can live anywhere that I choose, and I chose the 4th most expensive city in the world. Why? These reasons, actually:
Los Angeles. Love it or hate it, but I suggest you love it. My friend Tyler says "it's a swimming pool made out of a toilet, but all your friends are in it." (While I might agree that we exist in a "bowl" and not all of it is pretty, I would also add that our bowl is surrounded by the world's most beautiful landscapes, sunsets, and inhabitants who embody a most unique balance of relaxation and ambition. Not to mention weather so good that we have to fabricate reasons to complain about it).
I watched many friends leave LA during COVID. They romanticized beautiful boondocks living and counted all the money they would save. Didn't age well. Now they want to come back, but yesterday’s price is not today’s price. Not to mention what disappearing for 2 years cost their relationships and business prospects. “But we wanted life to be a bit cheaper, and we wanted a pool.” Let me tell you about a place called The Valley. It’s 10 miles away, instead of 3000.
Take two equally talented and hardworking people, and ask yourself why one of them is living 3x better than the other. The answer is relationships. Old relationships get stimulated in person at chic coffee shops where you bump into other people you know, make introductions, and create spontaneous new plans. New relationships get sparked by accident when you compliment someone’s car or ask about their watch. I currently have a new friend that I made by (unknowingly) stealing a parking spot from him. You can’t make this up.
It’s popular to make fun of Erewhon, but the jokes miss the point. I stopped ordering groceries and now I go to Erewhon daily. For single items. I’m not paying $15 for a detox drink, I’m paying for the inevitability that I will get some fashion inspiration, spark a conversation with the valet kid who wants life advice, see someone I know, meet someone new, or any combination of the four. Last visit, I saw a couple in their 70s who embodied everything I want to be in 30 years. They weren't Brooklyn, they weren't Beverly Hills, they were... OK maybe they were Brooklyn. I walked directly home and updated my vision board.
Boondocks life seems so effortless, right? Escape the grind, they say. You know what’s a grind? Waking up 6000 miles from everyone who matters to your business, and spending the next 4 hours trying to wrangle them online. Effortless is walking down the street in NYC with Harrison Boyce, bumping into Aaron Levine at the ALD store, talking vintage Italian sofa repair and patina’d sportscars for 45 minutes before stepping into your next meeting to secure a new client.
Maybe I’m a hypocrite though, because I do use technology to avoid certain IRL situations for efficiency's sake. Do I sit in my home office and take zoom calls with people who are 10 minutes away from me? Yes I do. Then I get out of my chair, walk down my hill, and meet 3 friends at L&E Oyster Bar. I do not lament Zoom or its ugly bodyguard, “Zoom Fatigue”. But I've stopped using both as an excuse to check out of real life.
Boondocks life is sweet. I believe that so earnestly, that I recently procured a cabin in the woods. However, after four days of seclusion, deep thought and relaxation… it’s time to bounce back. Wake up. Get my ass to the city.
