Threatening Hippy With Bubble Machine. What more needs to be said?
Uncategorized
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Ah, Santa Monica pier. I went looking for Vampires, my mind saturated with cultural referents, I found this.
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Grill, taking a photo of a lamppost. Excitement.
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Santa Monica promenade. Journalists at large, beware!
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Man balancing women in chair on teeth. Tuesday.
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Treebeard begging for change. Only on Venice Beach – would have been chopped up for kindling long ago in London town.
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Freedom of speech on Venice Beach. Write whatever you want down, they’ll write it up in big letters on these boards for everyone to read; they cover the promenade with them in the daytime.
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I’ve had to dispose of four years of comments my compadres, because CommentThis got cancelled. Which is an arse. So go populate the comment threads below, create children of the intellect, spread your words of wisdom wide, disagree with my balls. Or at least leave short, mildly offensive comments, whichever the easier.
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San Francisco. I thought I hadn’t seen San Francisco; of course, I’d seen something of it, seen the centre and the buildings and the cable cars avalanching by; but I felt there was a social San Francisco out there, the supercool city of Maupin, which I was somehow missing by not knowing anyone there. Yet,
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This is terrible. I normally do freelance for money (to gain it and to take up time so I can’t spend it) yet I’ve found myself looking forward with vicarious delight to a certain piece of my freelance; Computer Upgrade’s Time Wheel. It takes me ages, I’ve got to get my own images, and it