LA Story

I'd seen that barber shop last time I was at the 24 hour Pastrami hut. I parked around the corner, in a pristine Jefferson Park neighborhood, and watched the rapid degeneration over the space of 100 feet as I headed up to W Adams Ave. Four rough looking women sat on the sidewalk, smoking. One in a wheelchair. There was trash in the gutter, wet from the rain.

They didn't speak English at the barbers, so I talked my way through with bad Spanish and gestures.

"Muy corto aqui, and short como asi," I said, making cutting motions with my fingers.

My stylist, a 50-something chubby Latina with worn, vintage scissors, worked quickly.

I spoke far more Spanish than I was letting on, so I could eavesdrop. They talked about babies and car seats. Soon enough I'd was a clean-cut, and headed back to the car.

Back by my car, two guys pushed a beat-up 70s van, black, with pop-out plastic windows. One asked me if I'd push the van with my truck. I said no, but, gave them a couple of bucks. They offered me some pot.

"Nah, I'm good," I said.

Then, I motored to Santa Monica to buy a high visibility yellow-green cycling jersey, and a new flashing light for the bike.

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Found at completely at random on weblogs.com... Julian and Hannah want everyone to know that they're happy. Young love is cool. Good luck, kids.