Speaking of Stanley Donwood and why Lost Angeles is genius, I was going to hit up the opening reception alone..
Spent a good portion of my day completing some coursework and rummaging through the garage looking for one of my favorite (if not the) CDs, but I ran out of luck—The Eraser had managed to erase itself.
Time was creaking in on me so I rushed in to the shower then ran a few errands and after hopped on the freeway. See originally I'd decided to Metro in to the city alone but then I was like, "fuck.. our public transportation system is shit." But so are the freeways.
Well, what was I to do? I was running late already. Oh, and did I mention that I'd made it a date?
So I went over to her house and we smoked the surplus Quail I had from Coachella and before I knew it the tape player was regurgitating Jacuzzi Boys and the car was in motion heading up the 605.
I'd also planned to stop by the store to get a silver Sharpie for the Eraser vinyl I'd grabbed instead on my way out of the house but as you could probably foretell, that plan was also derailed.
See I was looking for my CD copy of The Eraser earlier that day so I could get it autographed at the show's opening reception, given the situation was adequate enough to ask for one. But since it was lost in the realm of moving several times in the past few years I was forced to choose vinyl format—I keep my records readily accessible.
And so at one point while anticipating the 5 and vacillating between Sharpie or not I decided it was too late—it was a straight shot to Echo Park and we were already on the freeway. I asked Halle to flip through the notebook I wrote some directions in and to read them out loud once she found them.
"Merge onto the 5. Then get on the 101."
After long contemplations to the sound of her voice I smirked with eureka: we were lost en route to Lost Angeles, swaying with the curvature of the interstate as we drove and drove, burning all the gas I'd theoretically saved on my loyal steed back home.
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