From a Motel 6

I <3 my new car.

School is officially over for the semester, and what do I do with my first truly free evening in eighteen weeks?

I scan photos.

This is my idea of solid entertainment on a Thursday night: two new Dump records to listen to and no shortage of photographs to look at. I am truly a cheap date.



Isn't he beautiful?




Isn't she gorgeous?


More found slides converted to Polaroid. More people I'll never know but will always love.

More pictures of public bathrooms. Come on, people. You can't get enough of this stuff. Admit it.

I got to see all kinds of new things yesterday. This bathroom is one of them. It's in (I believe) Calabasas. The picture doesn't quite do its splendor justice.



There was some interesting graffiti on the toilet seat. I tried to take a picture of it, but I ended up with the focus on the water instead. This is a better picture than the one I tried to take.



We stopped in Calabasas on our way to Hollywood to see Holger Czukay. This is not an activity that I would recommend to most people, but I enjoyed it immensely.

I also got introduced to the most amazing book store. I managed to restrain myself and only buy one book. There were a few others that I really, really wanted, though.

It was a good trip. Fast, not furious, and with fun to burn.

I reckon many a gal has had her picture taken with this sign, but this one makes my heart do a flipflop. I love her. I hope you love her too.



(Polaroid print from found slide.)

all your life
you were only waiting
for this moment
to arise

And this is the record of the time.