Been away for a few days in Los Angeles for a college trip, and I have this to say:
Fuck California. Nobody can drive, everybody needs to settle the fuck down, everything costs too damn much, and EVERY LITTLE FUCKING THING gives you cancer.
[laugh]
That aside, the trip absolutely rocked. Santa Monica/Venice Beach looks like it’s going to become my home away from home pretty soon, as the place kicks an absurd amount of ass. Lots of talented artists coming and going, lots of cool music happening, and DAYUM, lots of fine, fine, FINE women. (Saw/talked to the most gorgeous black chick ever working the counter at some shop… GOD DAMN, man. I am STILL in love.)
Went to Hollywood… Meh. Could do without the place. Afterwards, checked out the Getty museum, which is the coolest place in the world, scoped out the LACMA, and took in a great deal more art exhibits, where I chatted with quite a few artists and had my mind repeatedly blown. Life is fucking GREAT.
Wanted desperately to hit up Amoeba Records, but sadly, there wasn’t enough time, and on the last day, I totally realized that grmpysmrf lives over there, but I was without internet and therefore unable to get at him via Prongs. Fuck, dude… One of these days.
Picked up some records I’d been looking for for a while at a few other places, though, which was good. Met a turntablist by the name of DJ Hymn who can absolutely SLAY those fucking tables, so we talked music for about an hour and I purchased a few of his mixes, which are pretty fucking good.
Got fucked up nightly with my friends, instructors, and fellow art majors, and learned an important lesson… Miller Genuine is the worst, worst, WORST beer ever. Don’t do it. It’s like watered down sulfuric acid in a bottle. Fun as all hell, though… Learned more about people, myself, and the way shit works this weekend from my drunk-ass friends, teachers, classmates, and that one random homeless guy than any therapy/psychology session I paid a hundred-plus bucks an hour for ever did.
Picasso’s probably become my new favorite artist from this trip. I highly suggest you go to a museum just to see his work, because damn it, none of the books and pictures do them justice. It’s a humbling experience, man.
So what’s my favorite part about this trip? I come back home, log on to Prongs, and have something like 162 unread posts.
God, I love Prongs.
(Quote of the Goddamned millenium: “Let’s black it up a notch.”)