The Moon And Two Traffic Lights

Made for a perfect equilateral triangle.

Pet Peeve

THE REAL REASON I CANNOT BE KING

Today (well, yesterday now) I drove out to Santa Monica to shop and to see what was happening at Bergamot Station (an enclave of art galleries).  I also took a little stroll up the bluff trail overlooking the beach, where I met a little lizard sunning himself (he deserves a separate post).  I started driving back a little past 4:00 PM, and by the time I got back to my downtown loft it was nearly 7:00 PM.  Three mortal hours to get from Santa Monica to L.A.!  Granted, that was extreme even by L.A. standards, but not by a whole lot.  And there were enough encounters along the way with inconsiderate, incompetent and plain dangerous drivers to convince me that there are too many people on the road that should not be driving at all.

The late great comedian George Carlin said it's no wonder there are so many traffic accidents;  the roads are full of maniacs and idiots -- the maniacs being whoever drove faster than George Carlin, and the idiots being whoever drove slower than George Carlin.  I realize I, too, am being rather subjective here, as I'm not always all that courteous or so wonderfully nimble myself (I've long since unburdened myself of the suspicion that I may be a good or useful person in general), but it seems to me the quality of drivers around me has been noticeably eroding every year.

Yes, I'm an angry person.  That's why I cannot and must not be King.  I would be t̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ g̶r̶e̶e̶n̶  sentencing people to death left and right every day.

Hello Kitty Tattoo

Tuesday was May Day.  Which meant there was a convergence of multiple protests and demonstrations in downtown L.A. Which meant heavy police presence, traffic detours and (more than usual)general rowdiness.

 HELICOPTERS OVER PERSHING SQUARE

The evening rush in my downtown neighborhood is bad enough on ordinary days, but with a number of lanes in the heart of the jewelry district closed to vehicular traffic, the streets had turned into virtual parking lots.  Still, I figured I just needed to be patient and presently I would be home.  Complacent fool me, I had forgotten my own dictum:  "Everything costs more, takes longer and hurts worse than you thought".  As I approached my building I found the street was closed off at both ends of the very block I needed to access in order to enter the garage.  As there are hundreds of residents who park in the building, I imagine there was many a disgusted curse pronounced in the direction of City Hall Tuesday evening.  Anyhow, I decided the best thing to do was to get out of downtown, have a leisurely dinner elsewhere -- taking as long as possible -- and come back after a few hours.  Which is how I ended up in a Mexican diner in Hollywood at 8:00 PM.

In the end, the evening worked out all right.  The food was delicious, and while I was making inroads on my chile relleno a young woman came in who had an interesting tattoo on her calf -- in addition, I'm certain, to others that were not visible, as well as piercings other than the one through her nasal septum.  Naturally I had to ask for permission to photograph it, which she was happy to give.

Rush Hour

When the whole world heads homeward, including these clouds.