I never left Berlin. Ask my tax advisor, who is also my ex. I never left Berlin, and never will. I am just one of those artists with one of those annoying bios that reads: based between. But, in all honesty, I’m in Hollywood because I wanted to go to film school without going to school, and I needed a break from Bertolt Brecht and Frank Castorf and Marx. So, it’s all gas stations, ATMs, and Lana Del Rey for me right now. When I first got here, I often said that, after being in Berlin for so long, the pace of living in Los Angeles felt like snorting white powder off the hood of a Lamborghini on the highway; unsafe, yes, also very fast, and absolutely toxic. I loved it, and still do, but I am haunted by the sound of recycling clunking into those green- and brown-domed bins. I am haunted by the snap of bike paths and the unhappy face of my gynecologist. What I am trying to say is: I miss healthcare, biking, and responsible trash collection.

The main reason I left, though, was because ...


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