LA is getting smaller and smaller. When I drive around I usually feel like I’m just being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste, but every lane change is like another nozzle. I like being squeezed because I need a release. I like to sing and drive in my car, I yell really loud. The city is a lot of surfaces facing each other, people’s stoops steps away from a car, . It makes less and less sense to think you should own anything yourself in LA, it’s all a shared sponge. My ADU is a morsel. I walk up the driveway, between the property wall and a
My two story apartment building my mom lives in and sometimes my family from out of; sometimes downstairs are renters, sometimes its extended family. Our little compound used to be a simple one-story house with a big front and back yard on the edge of the city limits. Now the one story house is a two story apartment building and the backyard is my house; the lil caboose in the back holding the whole conglomerate together.
Usually I wake up and check Instagram, but I always forget my phone is still plugged into the wall.