some things in LA, before I forget
grilled cheese sandwiches, philodendra and Tasmanian tree ferns in Griffith Park; an elderly beagle named Pinky; perfect coffee, hummus and dark chocolate on a Persian rug in an apartment full of records and knickknacks in the Hollywood Hills; discount on utopia and leftwing radicalism at Brand Bookshop, around the corner from the Iraqi-owned music shop with the mural of a piano painted in stars and stripes; Montebello, all bowling alleys and closed-up donut shops, where old women hang out in 7-11s, tidying up shelves because they have nothing else to do; palm trees over empty parking lots glimpsed from the highway