dear la times
. why you gotta be punkasses? why would you let your readers not have the best minds in southern california? why you gotta be like that? me and my boys, shit, me and my girls...

arent you at all curious what it might look like? what it might be? how it might go down? where it all could go? you sit there like you have something to say and you aint got anything to say. you are defined the same way that you define yourself: by everything outside of la.

this is the place to be. la baby. city of angels. vermont avenue. crenshaw blvd. and yes, ventura blvd. you turn your back on the val the way you turn your back on me and my friends and the immigrants. motherfuckers got a better chance living in thailand and getting on the cover of the times than moving from thailand and making it happen in tarzana.

ii look at the calander section and i think, why is it that the free paper can tell me a hundred better things thats going on in the entertainment capital of the galaxy than my fucking local daily, but theres snoopy, so its groovy. its not so groovy. write like you like la.

write like youre still amazed at how the light bounces off a fucked up jewlery story next to a busstop that has signs next to rolexes that say se habla espanol. thats la, your lady. your lady has a gold toof two kids and one on the way. theres tons of stories written on the face of your neighbors and you give us old war stories of something that was barely a war. tell us about life, storytellers. tell us about life in the year two thousand and three in the coolest city west of the mississip. do it in color or b/w, but when you do it do it like you love the people youre writing about and you love where the hell they live. + busblog + karisa's 80th + raymi called me today