Los Angeles dinner party

good evnin, mornun, nightime ladies and gents and fiends.

A Los Angeles dinner party with mind expansion and talk of all manner of illegality and sinking deep into bat country. Greek Salad, mall, budweiser, mushrooms, chicken, CNN, Beverly Boulevard. Squirrel snuck across lawn green in desert city set against smog and mountains.

And lost on west and 94th talking to a bum - liquor on this block just down there but expensive. Three dollars for six bottles. Now a man who models himself on the good doctor filled with Yoga and beauty. He talked to us about the third eye and chunk - chunk - chunk I could hear his heart beating. Disappeared. Down to the ground like that.

Jet Set - Go

Officially I am staying at the Los Angeles Hilton, zip code 90210.

Unofficially and completely I am staying where my head rests, hopefully after wild excitement, wunderlust, bruises and the necessary breakdown brought on by distance.

I left her a note amongst the chocolates we bought days ago, melted and since frozen together in one solid brown and black and freckle drenched glob of sugar and cocoa. That note will make her smile because I willed it so hard as I shut the fridge door.

Now, the bird and two mates at the other end, properly introduced to this narrative as Waz and AK. Hopefully an uber shite van for eight hours across desert to fear and loathing - through real good bat country.

I've always been naive, maybe it's part of my hope for a better future.

Forgive me, for I know not what I do in my wild innocence and reckless faith in humanity.

Tomorrow; Sydney - Auckland - the city of smog and angeles and men wrapped in plastic.