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la’s weather is throwing tea at me like it’s in its 80s

@Ruby Wilder3/11/2026blog

so here i am, sweating somewhere on the edge of a highway exit in la, wondering if the forecast said 13 degrees or if my sweat meter is just broken. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. the air feels like a toddler’s cilice-humid, clinging, and somehow both oppressive and nothing. like if your skin had a grudge against you and decided to remember.



1840020486



if you get bored, the beaches are a detached garage away. not the glammed-up ones with lifeguards-just this empty stretch where the waves hiss at you like you’re interrupting their nap. i parked and realized i’d brought three pairs of socks. one was snagged on a nail in the car door. another smelled like regret. the third? it was a donation to a stray raccoon i swear.



the locals? well, they’re out there. either vaping while riding a skateboard down a hill or debating whether la’s street art is a ‘vibe’ or a ‘blight.’ one old guy at a newsstand told me, ‘you should buy that mural. it’s got history. it’s got vibe.’ i asked if he’d sell it. he just whispered, ‘no. it’s not for sale. it’s for the future.’ classic la nonsense.



someone told me that the coffee spot near this exit is haunted. not the kind with ghosts, obviously. the kind where the barista always knows your name even if you haven’t told them. i went. the latte was decent. the barista said my name wrong. twice. then smiled and said, ‘that’s how it works here, friend.’ i left with a cup of burnt milk and a headache.






i took a photo of a red truck parked by a sidewalk. it had a bumper sticker that read ‘404 not found: lost.’ don’t ask me why. maybe i’m just tired of numbers. the second image? a tree with a sign that says ‘spacex’ but it’s just a random weed growing on some concrete. funny. dumb. la. the third is a guy in a bike helmet holding a sign that says ‘free tacos if you yell at pigeons.’ i didn’t. i got nothing.



i heard that the new restaurant on grind is owned by a guy who thinks avocados are a mystery. he charges $20 for a single slice. i tried to ask about it. he just stared at me like i’d asked him to explain quantum physics. maybe he’s right. maybe avocados are a riddle. i walked away with an açai bowl from a place called ‘the avocado whisperer.’ it tasted like regret and lime.



if you need directions, just ask a homeless person. they’ll point you somewhere. maybe not where you want to go, but they’ll do it with the energy of a man who’s failed 17 times at being a cab driver.



i saw a poster for a yoga class in an alley. the instructor was wearing a hoodie that screamed ‘i am the universe and i hate yoga.’ i didn’t sign up. i just took a picture of the caption: ‘find your center. or don’t. we’re all just figuring it out anyway.’






this place is a mess. like a Tumbler post that someone forgot to delete. the weather, the people, the random acts of existential dread-it’s all here. i’m leaving tomorrow. probably. if the next day doesn’t involve a cactus-eating contest.



here’s a link to a yelp review about a guy who found a lost wallet and kept it. yelp.com/review/1840020486
tripadvisor.com/lost-and-found-las-nga
unsplash.com/search/photos?query=la-street-art
lapubliclibrary.org/haUNTED-CAFE






p.s. if you like this, check out my instagram. it’s 80% backdrop of me pretending to be a poet while actually just trying not to die of heatstroke. linktree.com/@npersonalismsobad

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About the author: Ruby Wilder

Unapologetically enthusiastic about niche topics.

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