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About Los Angeles

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. I’m nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, mutterin’ to myself, “Can you hear me?”—straight outta the movie, ya know? She smirks, “What’s your deal, old man?” I laugh—hoarse, loud—cuz she’s got sass! I like that. “Just lookin’ for company,” I rasp, “not a billionaire, promise!” She rolls her eyes, “Good, they tip like shit.”

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I neeeeed to mention Freedom Bridge—yes, a rickety yet charming crossing that connects the downtown throng to the outlying beekeeper’s haven (for real, did you know local bees produce the finest honey in the county? Mind-blowing!). I’ve spent many a lazy afternoon there, meditating on life’s absurdities. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a smidge of anger when a rogue seagull pooped right on my notes—nah, it tickled me in a bizarre way, reminiscent of Inherent Vice’s absurd twists.

Total deposition of sulphur to coniferous forests in Sweden - Taking canopy exchange into account