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About Los Angeles

Oh, and the smells—oils, incense, sweat—drives me wild, in a good way. Reminds me o’ *Son of Saul* again—“The air is still.” Except it ain’t still, it’s thick, alive, pressin’ in. Makes ya feel somethin’. Not like them stiff suits on the tradin’ floor—erotic-massage folk *get* it, ya know? Life’s messy, sticky, glorious.

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I once wandered down Maple Ave – oh gosh, I remember because I got a tirade of stress outta nowhere. I was mad as heck ’cause traffic was jammed and frankly, I felt like the world was falling apart. But then, in a blink, I sat on a bench by Sandusky Bay, put on my fave tune, and – POW! – all that anger just melted away. Life’s weird, huh? Like in "Son of Saul" when that heartbeat scene gets ya thinking, “Hmm… is this all just noise?” but then, bam, you feel something else.

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