In Audience

Two girls stood in audience of a man on the outdoor patio of a coffee shop in Los Feliz. He played guitar and sang, while a shallow fence separated him from them on the sidewalk. The guitar was decorated in a pine wreath. The man’s voice was hard and gruff, work-worn and in concert with a grizzled beard and the dirt-streaked skin of the unhoused. I had to excuse myself as passing the girls, so focused on the performance they didn’t realize they blocked the sidewalk.

No. 002

descension

In the hills of Beachwood Canyon, there are several staircases leading from the city below to the houses above. Descending a set on a rainy day, I found a hidden message written on the steps.

“Not everyone can see

These words are hidden for those with eyes

You are unique”

An auspicious start to the year, I thought, finding them. Then again, any passerby paying attention would notice. But who descends stairs in the rain?

No. 001

in the rain

Nov 16, 2025

A delivery robot rolled across a crosswalk in the rain, its sensors detecting the cross traffic, vehicles waiting at the red light, pedestrians walking to and fro with and against it (umbrellas briefly shielding it), and, presumably, me, waiting to turn right. The robot must have been decalibrated by the rain, stopping and starting, moving forward one foot at a time. And through this process I waited, watching as it attempted to discern a safe passage—one that was never in jeopardy.

an introduction

I drank too much. My stomach hurts. It’s 4am and my mind is racing, turning over everything that needs to be done at work. Thoughts crowd my brain and steal—my sleep—my time. I need to write then to purge them—for what—for whom—for sleep. In a sense: retching. The morning birds began chirping. I hope it comes soon.

Nov 12, 2025