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About Los Angeles

So I’m stewin’, right? Angry as hell—why’s this gotta be so complicated? Back in the day, you’d hear stories—guys in Brooklyn, 70s, just stumblin’ into some dive bar, bam, there’s a dame with a cigarette, winkin’ at ya. Now? Now it’s all encrypted chats and “discreet encounters”—what am I, a spy? I’m not cut out for this! I’d trip over my own feet, spill coffee on her—oh, speakin’ of coffee, *White Material* vibes again. “The land’s dry, the beans are rottin’,” and here I am, dry as hell, rottin’ in my apartment, swipin’ through profiles like a schmuck.

Hooker Falls

Man, NW Sandy Blvd is where the vibe kicks off. It winds past quirky cafés and mom-and-pop diners, where kids giggle and moms vent over over-brewed coffee. I literally heard a kid say "I have a dream!" on a rainy afternoon, reminding me of hope, ya know? Sometimes I’d be sittin’ in my car, parked near the old Dr. Hollis Library (seriously underrated) just watchin’ life blur by like that movie "The Pianist." “When I'm a rich man…” echoes in my head, almost like a secret lyric.

Summer Camps June 2024