the Standard

it was warm. that much i can vouch for.

san fran provided the usual drugs. usual smiles. usual pretties doing the usual things. ive noticed their is a rather large community of bad artist in san francisco. i always thought they just hadnt made it yet, i realize now they just dont have much talent. nice people though. quick to pass you a joint, give you a lift, and laugh at your jokes even if they dont get em.

getting my cool new hat stolen off the counter of a record store didnt start the trip off in an agreeable fashion, but getting my laptop stolen from the back of my brothers charcoal grey jeep wrangler really put the poison into my plans.

easy come. easy go. fuckin disco.

hollywood was easy. sunset boulevard at 70 degrees. nice lookin white chicks with ok asses in tight jeans and small, flimsey shirts hanging from their necks. my hotel was hip. had that future lighting to it. you know, like a big white wall with a blue light behind it to give the entire place that mystery vibe. lots of wannna be maybe soon to be actors. lots of white people high on cocaine. lots of pricey button up shirts with hip, flaring collars. lots of sweet martinis left half drunk. lots of cars. loads of cars.

went down to san diego to visit my precious two. we got high on valium and wine and stayed up talking until 4am. we gave eachother big long hard hugs before i left. i promised id see them in the summer. im hoping thats the case.

going to maimi in a few weeks. gotta cook up some hyper reality.

now i gotta do work. more work. and some more.

more later.