A while ago I spent some time at a Friend’s Loft in Downtown Los Angeles. It was near the Brew 102 Building way back when, and I’m damned if I can’t see myself in that place other than to wish/dream I had the top floor of a 9 story building south of Wilshire. North side. Car Lift. My own place up there with all amenities, and the West and East windows to look out if I wanted. The south area would be for the car at that level, and storage, if needed. Not so fancy, just there. Private. Secure. Mine alone for all time. LOS ANGELES. MINE. 213, area code phone numbers. 24/7 Fax buzzing, or whatever. Office place back there south, walled away from walls and sun too. POOL on roof? Private. Covered, movable, frost partition light/air filter openings to exterior air. Salt water, lightly, so there’s no need for chemicals. 24/7 access, 89 degrees? Year Round. Yeah! All solar/wind off grid powered place. Yeah!
But so too, I’d looked at magazines and saw these recycled spartan places in the desert, west of L.A., Orange County, and in Moab, Utah, or New Mexico, and I thought, I’d need one of them as well. Can A Deliveryman Be A Turnip?


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