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Image may be NSFW.
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Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Last night I had a few hours to kill and found myself on one of my favorite blocks in all of LA. The evening was airy and cool and I parked my car up off of Franklin near all the bungalows and palm trees. My car smelled like incense and old coffee and I left the windows open to the sunset. A used bookstore for a volume of Ted Hughes. A new-old record that I could hardly believe I found, as if it had been dropped from the sky and just for me. A few new stones in my pocket. I wandered in and out of a long line of people waiting for a comedy show. I stopped on the corner to take a photograph of an apartment a few stories up, a dreamy-looking place with big windows and wild plants that reminded me of Paris. I could live there, I thought… The evening was quiet and contemplative and I felt that particular sort of happiness that has accompanied me through much of this summer–the happiness of being alone and content. The happiness of being satisfied with simple things like old books and new music and my own imperfect company.
The other night I sat under the stars with good friends and good tequila and someone said something beautiful that I couldn’t quite hold in my mind. Something like, I feel overwhelmed by the magic of possibility. Or, I’m in awe at the potential of possibility. See, I couldn’t hold onto it exactly. But I keep thinking about it, even still, as if trying to remember a ghost.
Top Five: week nine, July 2015
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