Give It To Me Like A Brit

The Beverly Center, a mall so pretentious, it's got a British voiceover to check you out of parking. It's strange, this voiceover; undeniably there is a tranquility in hearing that accent - this voice directs me to two payment stations located to my left and right upon entry of the garage from the mall escalators (despite the sign at left of the 4, above), and calmly Thanks me for payment. I feel like I stepped into The Fifth Element. What with the throb of neon lights and British diction. All I'm missing is the Gaultier and red hair; the bad traffic and streetside refuse I have.

Happy Holidays

West Hollywood, Target: I suppose it's the holidays - no time for pickup:

Color Me Pink, With Car Fumes

L.A. ranks up there as one of the dirtiest cities in the nation. Therefore, I assume that car exhaust and industrial fumes are responsible for the following - because doesn't toxic pollution paint the sky?

Pretty, don't you think?

The World Is My Trashcan

After two years, I've yet to make up my mind about sunny Southern California. Do I like the fact that driving five miles takes me forty-five minutes and that parking means a 20 minute ride around the block? Does anyone else miss the seasons? Meh. It has been a cloudy week, creating the cool winter I remember should exist about this time of year, and certainly it's welcome. A walk on the beach however, it is not...

..and this is Santa Monica...

But the landscape under a cloudy sky feels immense.

Certainly, my walk to work the next morning was redeemable.

The jury however, is still out.