Yesterday I took the bus to a very homeless Down- town Los Angeles to get finger- printed for my visa application. The buildings downtown are extremely beautiful, marble and gold and totally intact; way closer to Gotham City than New York ever was. However, the majority of the population in the downtown area is legless and seemingly unwilling to work through it. I double-txted Owen and Tamara: "Downtown LA is like a 1920s circus." Seeing the little person who runs the elevator in the Notary-Records building was a breath of normal air. P.T. Barnum never had shit on LA's Broadway.
On LA's Broadway, dodging disease-carrying piles of garbage and people dressed in supermarket plastic bags, I found a store that sold tons of rosaries and psychic readings [which seems conflicting]. Rosaries are for rappers, but they were also selling this necklace.
It's a little iro, and I don't know who is pictured in it, which makes me a poser, but I legitimately like it and I could read in the fortune teller's eyes that she thought she was ripping me off when she charged me $5.