Cranes and Rick James
A couple more pictures and a couple more bus folk.
At the Devil's Intersection, another orphaned headlight has manifested on one end of the sidewalk and the broken fragments of short brick wall have been scattered across another. Also, nearby, this happened. But much more importantly, the recent rain has caused a swarm of a thousand black pixels birds to gather over this one area, plotting their filthy avian evil and dropping showers of spherical pellets that clatter off the roofs of surrounding cars like... well, rain. Elsewhere, a pack of deer has emerged from wherever the hell we have deer to skulk menacingly about our freeways.
Some manner of crane. For those of you who don't live in LA, wildlife isn't common here.
Living Bobble-Head Doll: This rather stocky young man seems otherwise fairly average, but every few minutes his head... well, bobbles. It doesn't nod or shake, but rather flops about as if attached to a giant spring buried within his neck like a poorly conceived cyborg. For no apparent reason.
Yes, but blue.
This may be related to the fact that he seems to be in a kind of half-awake dream state which causes him to yawn frequently. By itself this would be unremarkable, except that when he yawns a visible spray of liquid is released from his mouth, prompting me to scoot away even further.
The Spirit of Rick James: No disrespect to the late Mr. James, but I swear this man is either his (younger) ghost or his secret clone. Imagine Rick James from the 80s in a blue dress shirt, a blue alligator print, sleeveless coat with matching pants, purple and white alligator skin shoes, and half the gold jewelry of Mr. T. Then you will know some small measure of his awesome presence. He sat in the front row and carried with him a cryptic black plastic bag filled with stacks of yellow paper and the power of funk. I very much wanted to take his picture just so I could prove he existed ("No really, it was Rick James! He was right on that bus!" "You're crazy! That bus burned down years ago!"), but dared not ask such a mighty being as he (and was unable to do it discreetly). Alas, he was with us only for but a short time before disappearing into the parking lot of a 7-11 like a thief in the night. I wish him luck in his mysterious adventures.
At the Devil's Intersection, another orphaned headlight has manifested on one end of the sidewalk and the broken fragments of short brick wall have been scattered across another. Also, nearby, this happened. But much more importantly, the recent rain has caused a swarm of a thousand black pixels birds to gather over this one area, plotting their filthy avian evil and dropping showers of spherical pellets that clatter off the roofs of surrounding cars like... well, rain. Elsewhere, a pack of deer has emerged from wherever the hell we have deer to skulk menacingly about our freeways.
Some manner of crane. For those of you who don't live in LA, wildlife isn't common here.
Living Bobble-Head Doll: This rather stocky young man seems otherwise fairly average, but every few minutes his head... well, bobbles. It doesn't nod or shake, but rather flops about as if attached to a giant spring buried within his neck like a poorly conceived cyborg. For no apparent reason.
Yes, but blue.
This may be related to the fact that he seems to be in a kind of half-awake dream state which causes him to yawn frequently. By itself this would be unremarkable, except that when he yawns a visible spray of liquid is released from his mouth, prompting me to scoot away even further.
The Spirit of Rick James: No disrespect to the late Mr. James, but I swear this man is either his (younger) ghost or his secret clone. Imagine Rick James from the 80s in a blue dress shirt, a blue alligator print, sleeveless coat with matching pants, purple and white alligator skin shoes, and half the gold jewelry of Mr. T. Then you will know some small measure of his awesome presence. He sat in the front row and carried with him a cryptic black plastic bag filled with stacks of yellow paper and the power of funk. I very much wanted to take his picture just so I could prove he existed ("No really, it was Rick James! He was right on that bus!" "You're crazy! That bus burned down years ago!"), but dared not ask such a mighty being as he (and was unable to do it discreetly). Alas, he was with us only for but a short time before disappearing into the parking lot of a 7-11 like a thief in the night. I wish him luck in his mysterious adventures.