Tess In Los Angeles

Lately, I've been spending time at Pierce Brothers Westwood Village Memorial Park, which is also known as the burial ground of Marilyn Monroe and Rodney Dangerfield. (A writer-director of some renown is pictured above.)

It's a strange little cemetery: picture an idyllic burial plot the size of a large Dallas front lawn nestled among the high-rise office buildings of Westwood. Most people don't even know it's there, because it's trapped between an office tower and a parking garage.

I like visiting the cemetery because it's only a few steps away from my office, and is adjacent to the library where I often do my work. It's quiet and peaceful, it's got nice fountains, and strangely enough, I feel quite happy there.

(I like cemeteries because they're one of the few places where it's perfectly acceptable to cry in public. You can sit down on a bench and bawl your eyes out, and hug your sides, and roll around on the ground, and nobody will bat an eye. Hey, you're mourning!)

The last time I was there, I was walking past by a perfectly sculpted and trimmed young tree, and for an instant, I could have sworn I saw a human figure moving within the tree's foliage, as if he or she were made of leaves.

And it absolutely scared the crap out of me.

So that's what it feels like.