I'm cooped in an L.A. apartment right now checking out books on Japanese architecture, the apartment belonging to Micheal Haas, and the books belonging to his architectual roommate who also works at a firm here in the city. I'm trying to recall everything that's happened since we've entered the great western state so cutely referred to as "Cali".
We pulled in at 6:45PM on Thursday July 3rd to our Santa Monica destination, greeted by Allie's boyfriend Justin, a stranger in our eyes. The hospitality was incredible and we instantly felt welcomed, warmed by a Newcastle Brown Ale and a quick-play Guitar-Hero face-off. We checked out the downtown SM area, fell under the weight of the major shopping quadron, and scoped out the pier. Awful chicken taco's and distant carnival pleas (I NEED THREE MEMBERS FOR THE SHOOT OFF... A WINNER EVERY ROUND!) clogged our arteries and ears respectively.
More sleep, more life without cleanliness, more sweating, more salt, more sand, more insane people and homeless.
[picture added after camera situation resolved!]
Venice beach was a trash heap of styrofoam and immigration and after four hours of immersing myself in it I felt more polluted than the shoreline. People with leather bags for skin zig-zagged along with us along the sidewalk as we dodged character after character before calling it quits.
We're headed to a place called the eat-well... if we can make it. Apparently, like all things out in L.A., it is complicated
More on life later.
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