First Stop: L.A.

Technically my first stop was in Kansas City. I had an hour and a half delay there, and let me tell you that is a boring as shit airport. Ugh. KC barbecue, right on; KC airport, sucks butt. I did have a nice ride to LA though - I sat next to this really cool chick who is the same age with similar interests, who also studied art (specifically printmaking) and shares my general outlook on the art world. I got her business card - score! All it took was a three-hour conversation and many attempts to pop our ears. Unpop? Pop?

So now I'm in LA, a city many of you know I cannot stand. But friends are here and so are tamales at the farmer's market. I think I have eaten some form of beans nearly every meal, so I pity those unfortunate ones who will be seated near me on the plane. Thank you, Bart, for being my chauffeur all weekend. You have now been upgraded to "Semi-Lazybones Breve." Thank you also, for moving out of the goddamn Valley to Venice, where the beach is a block away. Speaking of the beach, he and I spent a good, anti-climactic hour watching some foreign dude wrestle with a parasail that said "Liquid Force." I thought one was supposed to sail, not spar, with that sort of thing. Ha ha, "Liquid Force."

T-minus ten hours. I feel so effing weird. I left DC with a really bad taste in my mouth. That means the city will cease to register in my mind for a little while. As I write, Hugo is halfway back to the east coast - Jersey will get its Dirty Jersey back. Doesn't seem real that 24 hours ago I was at his place in Manhattan Beach, stuffing my face with beer and cake, watching Phil apologize for humping Abbey's leg, and comparing the smell of oranges to urine. Poor Hugo, he had some berry seed from the punch stuck in the corner of his lips, and Bart and I said nothing about it because we thought it was the nastiest cold sore we'd ever seen. He took some pictures like that. Oops.

I have this idea to completely detoxify, convert to Buddhism, and conform to an ascetic lifestyle; then upon my return, to defy the expectations of my education by bagging groceries at Trader Joe's. You can stop laughing now, but my contrary streak might be strong enough for me to do it to spite you.