the guez

few turning arrows no staggered lights and no one friggen lets you go what does this place have against the left? I don't understand it. Do these people only make right turns? Don't they wonder, when they speed past the poor sap stuck in the middle of the intersection, what will happen when they sit at the light the next time around? But roadside karma has a pretty fast turnaround when it comes to the left, and my car and I find solace in that fact.

there are some days when everything is just perfect. I guess I'll leave all the verbal skipping and anne-like exclamations of joy to your imagination and spare you the trouble of reading it.

My bus hit a detour on the way home from work today. They were shooting something on Hollywood Boulevard again. There's nothing glamorous about the amount of work this town does to perpetuate its own myth. "So stupid," I muttered to myself as I footed it through the crowds. But then I saw the giant robots. Ok, there were GIANT ROBOTS dueling each other in front of the chinese theater. I tried not to be impressed and to maintain my artists' scorn for all things hollywood. But man, that was awesome. They must have been a hundred feet tall! (migrated from myspace:)

I was the only one who had to come in on Saturday. The office was dark save for one lone cubicle with its light on and the radio playing. I tiptoed around the corner to see what soul shared my fate, and to see if he or she would share my company, but there was no one there. The light and radio were left on from before the power-outage yesterday. I parked my stuff in suite 4, turned on the avid, and under the whir of all that machinery, tried not to feel what I was feeling. But in the end, all it took was a minidisk player hooked into the sound system and some good music played at full volume to make it all better, at least for the moment. Playing your music at full volume is really all one can do when faced with an empty office and a day spent alone. Except for maybe working naked. But there's always that risk that somebody might come by to pick up a contract or check their e-mail.

"European girls," my LA cab driver informs me on the way back from the airport, "are better than Los Angeles girls." In case you were wondering, here's why: 1) they're more feminine 2) they dress better 3) they're easy "I'm not such a good looking guy," the cabbie explains, "but these girls in Europe, they come up to me and dance with me. And when they like me on the dance floor, they don't waste any time. 'Your place or mine?' they tell me. But these L.A. girls, they make you do so much work. You've got to take them to dinner and buy them drinks. They won't go home with you until you've spent all your money on them." So what do you say folks? Is he right?

Lost: One Medium-Sized, Tape-Bound Notebook With Unlined Pages To the Atlanta Community Member Who Finds My Notebook: Hello. You seem to have become a person of some importance to me. You see, the notebook which has for some reason come into your possession has been part of my life for the past few weeks. I'm not sure where I lost it or how, but I feel its loss quite strongly. And I have to say, it feels very odd to think about it in your hands, you being a person I have never met. In case you were wondering, the section in the back with all those pages about aliens is work I've done for a screenwriting job. I don't actually believe in aliens, at least not the kind that come to this planet to rip out people's eyes. I just want to make that clear to you. And please understand that the alien scheme is copyrighted, and not by me, but by a bigshot director out in hollywood. He'd probably sue you if you tried to sell the story. Not that you'd want to, it isn't