CALIFORNIANS ARE BACK IN THE LIMELIGHT RECALL REMINDER WE LIVE IN PLACE WHERE WE'RE CAPABLE OF ANYTHING.

Byline: Joseph Honig Local View

IN California's recall carnival, some friends and neighbors share a lingering, mostly unspoken feeling. For who wants to admit weakness, vanity or identity issues? Our secret is not unease over near-insolvency. Nor is it shame over porn-star candidates and D-list celebrity hopefuls.

It is simply that many of us may like the attention. The limelight. The long-distance calls from parents, children and ex-spouses asking, simply, What's going on out there? Is this a rebellion, revolution or electoral hiccup?

And what about that muscleman's handshake? Cordial or crushing?

We are, after all, not Californians for nothing. If we craved pastoral anonymity, we'd be Nebraskans. Or stately Southerners measuring moonlight in Savannah.

But we are Californians. Residents of this great, roiling, territorial imperative whose splashy crime stories, high-profile romances and oddball trends make news everywhere there is white space to fill.

Except lately. But that was until petitions met pens and a million of us signed up to make history.

For it's been a long time between natural disasters. And the Hollywood crowd's been keeping itself largely in check - or letting go in others' jurisdictions. This while we await a couple of juicy murder trials: that fertilizer salesman who fished on Christmas Eve; the faded, septuagenarian performer who says he left his gun in a restaurant.

At the moment, the recall is essentially all we've got. It reminds us we live in a spectacular and unpredictable place where 30 million souls are capable of anything at any time. It tells us we might be parts of a bigger story than just getting by in sunshine.

(Yes, an unfortunate swimmer was recently killed by a shark. On our side of the Pacific Rim, the news came and went; those satellite trucks may have been too busy piling up Arnold miles.)

Across the nation, millions like to watch our outsize travails. And here at land's end, we're pleased to accommodate. A lot of us like being watched. Sure, we're not principals. We're extras. But even background players have tales from the set. We spill them with delicious gusto.

When coastal news is dangerous, aberrant or glamorous, we occasionally find ourselves in demand. You can do a lot of dining out on near chaos.

This is not to say we don't live interesting lives in normal times. But, again, maybe it is. For though we reside in paradise, our days are filled with much the same getting and spending as occurs in Boston or Boise. The landscaping may be different. The climate also. Nonetheless, our myths and geography are special. Can you blame us for wanting to be special, too?

So it's understandable if large numbers of us fancy a little second-hand cachet. A Hollywood address and working stiff's occupation doesn't bring much applause.

Still, our views from the balcony aren't all that bad. We're in the same theater as all those celebrated principals. We're as close to the action as ordinary citizens can dream of being. Ask us anything.

During California crime waves and tabloid trials, a lot of us sound like dime store detectives. We crowd murder scenes and courtrooms. Give us an earthquake or tragic fire, and we'll talk about nerves on edge and devastating losses. A number of us are grateful for your interest and the conversation.

At the moment, we couldn't be happier. Reporters and news crews crowd our coffee shops. Uninformed opinions are routinely videotaped. Fortunes are being spent taking our political temperatures.

And we are Californians, in pain or celebration, always happy to share.