Last night a friend texted late and asked if she could come over and we sat on my bed for a few hours watching lip sync battles on Youtube and wondering why some people can never seem to get a fucking grip. I guess you could say that’s been the focus of my time recently: to get a fucking grip. It’s an appealing concept but some days it’s easier than others.

It’s been a busy few days, a weekend of concerts and comedy shows and resting and resetting. S comes back from Coachella today and I leave tomorrow night for a week-long vacation with my mom, something I’ve been counting down the days to for months.

I’m realizing that I unexpectedly love this place more the longer I live here. It’s the kind of love that sneaks up on you when you aren’t looking, that only becomes obvious when you’re faced with getting on an airplane and leaving it.

Be careful, she said last night as she skipped away from my front door, an hour or so after an earthquake that felt exactly like someone drove a truck into my building. Be careful, please, she said, and I didn’t have time to ask her what she meant before she was gone.











photographs taken at an antique store somewhere outside Lancaster, CA.



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