I Know What You Did Last Summer

Last summer was pretty good. That's because I was in Europe for the first half, eating real croissants and drinking good coffee and dressing up and talking about architecture. This year I'll be in LA. But like my good friend J. said: Let's have a really good summer! There's the beach and berry picking and Hollywood Forever and I have yet to experience that elusive dinner party with kids. It's going to be a summer of love---minus the psychedelic drugs and flowers in my hair.

Dianetics

Sometimes I go to a thrift store or some place and wait for a book to literally fall into my hands. On Friday it was: Self-Analysis by L. Ron Hubbard. Surprisingly, I scored immensely high on the emotional tone scale. Looks like I don't need a whole lot of clearing or auditing or whatever. The only real issue is my high suggestibility and the ease with which I can be hypnotized. But otherwise, pretty good. It's a fascinating read. In the beginning was the word, and that word was survival. The goal of life: Survival. And theta merely means life force. I was told it referred to aliens. Hm....

Image above: Hubbard audits a tomato.

Adam to my Eve

Fucking homophobia is driving me crazy. Adam is a rock god. He is a sex god. He is destined for greatness. If I was ten years younger, I'd totally convert him.

Just the Two of Us

I know a Dad (NOT A.) who is pretty good looking, tall, a hipster, an artist, a great musician, pretty artsy and cool and nice all around, and he is married to a fat woman. I can't believe there are two of us. I always wonder what people are thinking. If they pity A. or what.

Fat Obsession Reaches New Lows

Today at circa 8 p.m. PST, a fat local woman was found frantically squeezing into flimsy summer dresses at the Glendale location of popular Armenian hang-out ROSS: Dress for Less. After several futile efforts, she gave up and bought a two-seasons-ago LeSportsac wallet and a Dr. Seuss DVD for $2.99. She then walked to her car wondering why Armenians are perpetually scowling. Must be the 1915 Genocide.

Gas Stations

Now that I'm a home owner I got a letter in the mail asking if I want to buy one---or some---of the local gas stations. For a moment I pictured the turn my life would take... just kidding.

Freudian Slip

Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath. Sylvie Plath.