Tag Archives: los angeles

sex with me… sex with me… sex with me…

the drive
six-dollar garbage
L. A.
Micah’s little lab
dropping by Federal
sunset cruise to Santa Monica
sir, this is valet only
the motel, Steve, Thai curry, the cockroach

Vator Splash
walk for oil
chillin w Tram
goodbye Santa Monica
bang

sunrise to LAX
the literati
trader joes shopping
shower?
gal palace
aerienne’s curry
rise of the jack o lanterns
staples center
the pantry
sex with me, sex with me
film shoot
martinis at Clifton

sweating, parking
Meryl the blonde tart
Clara the effortlessly beautiful
Travis the sexy handyman
back at the chicken shack
raw silk
maximum laughter, minimal consequence
scene queen
80s club (wreck 86?) speakeasy
overpass popup
gig rig piss
spurned the hip hop breeze
hot dog, malt liquor, blow

shit
ramen
dishes
video chat w love
shower
high as fuck w Fitzcarraldo

~rain~

piece of shit
part one of Anna Karenina
the Ivy
over the garden wall
finished Fitzcarraldo

fragment of shit
cacao coffee
shower
barneys beanery
smokin
little dieter needs to fly

bagels n coffee
work, work
laundry out
car wash
seat belt ticket
laundry home
yoga nap
chicken kebab election
1642
bye aerienne

moving the car asleep
cafe 50s
el matador
shower and jojoba
long lyft
a novel Thai feast
funkmosphere
double double rye, straight
bye Meryl
bye Virgil
hello j
from sleep

early morning car move again
waiting for the call
toilet call
pack fast and peace
selected ambient drive
mcds
peter gabriel
fresh fruit
bridge
SF
surprise! Continue reading

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All Delighted People

patterns, coincidences, joy, and passion? now i’m just making shit up. Continue reading

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disabilitated in Echo Park

Los Angeles,
where the bathrooms have little black boxes secreting more savory scents into the air,
where skinny women walk the streets with arms around their various boyfriends,
where space cars silently hover around in hopes of finding home, a place to park,
where tacos taco tacos,
where concrete firmly stands against the ocean and desert of chaos,
where a small cigarette, coffee, or bit of coke could potentially do the trick,
where you can’t stop staring at the many faces of modern plastic,
where they make the magic happen. Continue reading

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The Contented Little Pussy Cat

i’m stoned at my parents’ friends house. they are going to be home in about seven hours. i am writing a blog post. as the great writer once said: write stoned, edit sober, publish drunk. i never follow advice. sometimes … Continue reading

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Sexing. Dean Martin

the cure to writer’s block is wine, whiskey and amplified bass frequencies. and fucked pixels. birthday wishes in a world post-facefuck: a god among birds in Echo Park: meanwhile: alas, la is not for me. sf is. i much prefer … Continue reading

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One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

this little boy listens to Flying Lotus,
this little boy pees with the door open,
this little boy always pulls through,
this little boy never wears rainbow eyes,
this little boy screamed “wha?? wha?? wha??” writing stupid poems. Continue reading

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what my stomach did in los angeles [archive]

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