Agreeable flight. No hi-jacking hi-jinx thank goodness. No one tried to convert their miniature bottle of Crown Royal into a miniature molotov cocktail or open a bag of poisonous spiders on the flight crew. Kept alcohol consumption to a minimum. Saucy white chicken deeply undesirable. De Campo dozed while I read voraciously. From LAX to glamorous hotel on Hollywood Boulevard, awesome print of Mick Jagger, Lou Reed and David Bowie hanging above our bed. Adjourned to the pool where buff Sicilians and thonged bubble butt blondes with their mountainous breasts waded in the shallow end with cigarettes in their teeth spouting inanities. Threw down two Ruby Red Absolut and grapefruits observing this monstrous display.
Hailed a cab to The La Brea Tarpits, the stench of freshly laid LA freeway in full effect. Pit itself oddly created by earthquake fissures forcing tar to the surface and trapping many a dinosaur who were either too slow or too dumb to avoid it and many died. More wolf skulls here than anything else. Seems the dogs never learned, always going after the easy prey and never able to appreciate Mammoth meat sinking in the bastard stuff. They’re still recovering bones there, we had a look inside Pit 91 and this Indiana Jones-type held up the femur of a horse and we all cheered behind the glass like gorillas.
Caught the Dan Flavin exhibition next door - always delightful these unexpected visual treats.