Billy's beast.

billy's beast

the devils pitch fork

getting to weld something.

It's nights like these.

Here I am listening to love struck/sick ballads. Tonight it's Ray LaMontagne. It's raining torrentially, the streets are rivers, and I'm missing something about every one of my exes. Lengths of time and place where I'm reminded of how awesome love at some point or another held its presence steadily in my life. A sporadic nature is not an easy one with which to establish much faith between a tumbleweed and a stranger, but a good barrier between the wind and the free range where this tumbleweed would otherwise roam seems about now a desirable thing. The rain sits me down, and these relationships make me feel. So now I'm sitting and feeling the lyrics and tunes playing to me from these speakers, and I'm puzzled about time and space that I now occupy and why it is absent of the steadiness for which I long.

At least I have central heating.

L.A. times.

House calls.

house parties.

hidden art...golden finds.

music.

motorcycle parking.

a good excuse to take more baths.

friends.

when improvisation becomes standard...my favorite belt.

The week in review

goin for a little ride.

you wouldn't know what to do with this.

good for something.

yes.

smells nice...why not.

Exploring my world.

French classical piano music plays from the old phonograph record player in the corner of the studio. The dancers, large and small, twirl in their tutus and flip their legs and hands to the commands of their much older, heavily accent-clad French teacher. I'm sipping my unsweetened ice-brewed coffee on the oxblood stained benches in the chambers of the cooled coffee shop looking through the door that opens into the dance studio. Brief entertainment. I retreat to the familiarity of my PDA to record this experience.
See, I was driving along Pico boulevard. It was a hot day. I had a sweltering headache from the jug of sangria I had drunken the night before, thus I was thirsty and needed energy. And so it was that I stopped at the first sign of quaint atmosphere and promising refreshment. This is a new neighborhood to me, but it has so much potential. And guess what, I found it. Among the rows of "for lease" signs dangling in empty store fronts, and automotive repair shops, there it was. I walked in, and a lovely experience it has been. See what magical things you can find today.

Yesterday, I also happened to find myself in a new neighborhood, surrounded by Cajun and Jamaican eateries, a hip hop recording studio, and plethora of barbershops. With a subtly growing hunger, I decided to check out the Jamaican restaurant. After awhile of asking the registrar about what the various things on the menu were, and generating small talk about the neighborhood, I decided to try a fried spinach patty. I ate it there and took in the atmosphere. The registrar was the kinda guy that didn't smile or talk much, but his eyes and other nonverbal cues were so efficiently utilized, that our communication was complete as minimal as it seemed. I must say I admired his ability to do so. On my way out, I said "I'm coming back to try the beef patties" to which he looked up from a conversation he was holding with someone else, he smiled (finally) and said "ok! See you soon!" and I left feeling accomplished.