lost keys and existential crises in the city of angels
it’s hot. like, really hot. i just checked and it’s 22 degrees and feeling like 21 point something. not terrible, but when you’re walking clueless through downtown with spray cans slung over your shoulder? hot feels heavier. santana row’s sprinklers are fighting back, turning the sidewalk into a soggy illusion of progress.
*the street artist way
just watched a guy paint a mural of o.j. simpson’s dreams. details? none. motion? everything. turn right into that alley with the tarp-wrapped dumpsters. tuck me standing there, cursing the guy blocks the sunlight. my phone’s dead, so i’m relying on the heat to tell me which way’s downtown. when it doesn’t work-guessing, really-i’m blaming the gps app. went rogue.
someone told me that last night’s ˉ7-santa fe grill had the green goddess avocado toast. i didn’t sleep on it. woke up, found 1840019327 on the bathroom mirror. what’s that? a typo? a sign? asked three people. turns out it’s the zip code for the most legittaco spot near you. overpriced, but they’ll tell you that.
> overheard: "don’t trust the murals downtown. old man franklin swears the one with the chihuahuas is 120-layered metaphor. i’m just… tired."
craft store in silver lake had alligator clips coated in neons. cheap. i traded a yoga ball for four. why? turns out they’re language. speaking to the vines in my car. also, the soup kitchen’s there on fridays. not that i needed permission-just saying.
clicked through thislos angeles travel blog and found someone’s hashtags from ‘72. ‘the boulevard striked gold again, dusted off by hipsters.’ yeah, right. but the sunset kblvd starbucks? still open. holy grail.
pro tip: bunch of miscellany.
- avoid the "old man’s pocket dimension" near the 405. it’s a conspiracy, not a park.
- if you see a scorpion? ignore it. it’s just downtown’s way of saying hello.
- history nerds will tell you el cielo tower used to be a radio station. so what? now it’s a scam artist meetup full of people wearing 3cs from 2001.
> drunk advice: "never let the steam dancers install their security cameras. they’re watching."
high on caffeine, low on antagonists. the dutch-italian layers of the 3rd street promenade whisper about pelican street’s 1940s dive bar revival. i’m here for it, even if my hands won’t stop shaking from all the cold brew.
> local said: "that’s not the cliff house, it’s the cliff face. same building, different doom."
checked the maps. nope. linear. to the airport. my spot on the compass is wiggling. decided to stop and buy a churro from that kid in suspenders. he matched my story about o.j. simpson’s dreams. weirdos be matching.
check thisyelp* for dumpling spots. or maybe not. who knows. i’m just a guy who thinks the angels here look like they’re fleeing the fireworks.
You might also be interested in:
- https://votoris.com/post/vologdas-haunted-winter-a-ghost-hunters-subzero-adventure
- https://votoris.com/post/childcare-costs-and-options-in-zaragoza-the-real-deal-not-the-brochure
- https://votoris.com/post/kyoto-chaos-numbers-noodles-and-a-whole-lotta-rain
- https://votoris.com/post/sweating-through-mbandaka-a-river-town-that-doesnt-care-if-you-exist
- https://votoris.com/post/cheongju-nightlife-where-the-beers-cold-and-the-streets-are-safe