Waking up to Los Angeles on fire

a raw dispatch

Hi friends,

I write to you with tears in my eyes... Five fires are devouring Los Angeles right now. The headlines list acres burned, homes destroyed, wind speeds, and gallons of water dropped from helicopters. But numbers can't tell you what it feels like to watch your world burn.

Looks like it’s a movie, looks like it might be AI, unfortunately, it’s completely real.

We all know that wildfires are dangerous and that loss of life is tragic. But what I didn't bargain for was how incredibly destabilizing it is to lose your sense of place. So, I just wanted to share with you some of what I'm learning as the city around me burns…I’m hoping it might give a picture of why people in Los Angeles are so devastated right now.

I never understood how much of my identity was tied to a sense of place until I watched it burn.

I grew up in Brentwood, which sits just next to the Pacific Palisades (where more than 1,000 homes have burned and which—as of writing this on Wednesday night—is 0% contained). The Palisades isn't just a neighborhood to me—it's the epitome of Los Angeles dreams, all sweeping ocean views and pristine streets. It's that place I always imagined I'd live "one day," when I finally "made it." But it's also deeply personal: the site of middle school sleepovers, awkward high school dates, and most importantly, my sanctuary—Temescal Canyon.

I even write about Temescal Canyon in my book, Buy Yourself the F*cking Lilies.

“Temescal Canyon is a particularly special hike for me. It’s right off Sunset Boulevard in the Pacific Palisades, and the entire first leg of it is uphill. It’s brutal but good brutal. You get breathless, and the physical act is so hard you kind of have to stop thinking, and then, BAM! You are smacked in the face with sweeping views of the mighty Pacific Ocean.”

For a decade, I've made my Sunday pilgrimage to Temescal Canyon, drawn by its raw beauty and winding paths that always seemed to hold the answers I needed. It's a place where magic happens—like that surreal morning when Anjelica Huston appeared on the trail like some kind of earth angel. Now it's ash. The high school parking lot where I'd start my hikes—gone. My post-hike breakfast burrito spot—gone. Thirty years of memories vanished in one night, carried away on waves of smoke and flame. Almost like it was never there.

Temescal Canyon a few weeks ago…

Temescal Canyon now…

The mundane was precious.

Obviously, I don't have it anywhere NEAR as bad as some people. I have many, many friends who lost their homes. I imagine their pain and it's devastating. And yet—I feel tears well up in my eyes for Gelson's, the supermarket in the Palisades which burned to the ground. Gelson's is sort of fancy and old school, and if you're from LA—you know it. I remember being a kid there and just feeling safe and well taken care of as I ate a Victor Benes sugar cookie from the bakery. Gelson's harkened back to a past where neighbors knew one another and everyone was friendly. I can't believe it, but I cried when I found out it was gone.

An intersection I have waited at AT least four million times. Now it’s gone. I didn’t even know how much I loved it.

I’ve taken my hometown for granted.

I am always saying things like, "Maybe I need to move to San Francisco!" "The dating must be better in New York, I should go there." I OFTEN complain about how "the people are so superficial" and everything is "too expensive," completely blind to the fact this is my home. Los Angeles has nurtured me: it's given me trails to walk, sunshine to light me up, and is home to basically all of the people I love most in the world. How could I have been so mean?

I like to post advice, I like to post helpful tools for you, but today I just post the truth: the level of destruction here is unimaginable. An entire town was incinerated. You can see the flames from the free way. And somehow, I love Los Angeles and it’s people more than ever before.

I love you too. Thanks you for being my sense of place today.

-Tara

PS: if you want to help Los Angeles, here are some great organizations you can donate to.