It’s Thursday in downtown L.A. That’s plenty close enough to the weekend for the folks inhabiting Cole’s and the tequila bar 6 floors below my bedroom window. I’m no square, but I’m still surprised at the array of reasons that alleged grown-ups find to let out lung-top shrieks.
I smoked some tobacco with my new, beloved iPhone on the fire escape. I first admired how badass the tops of the buildings looked all crowned in fog tonight. Then I thought about God, wondering if He might ordain for me to drop my phone from the fire escape because my affection for it may be excessive. I held on to it tightly as I took this photo. As if to thwart His will!
“Elliot: He’s a man from outer space and we’re taking him to his spaceship.
Greg: Well, can’t he just beam up?
Elliot: This is REALITY, Greg.”
This is my homegirl from the L.A. subway who is not down with littering… I love her face.