Wednesday

Right now I'm at JP's Coffeehouse, which is right next to the Trader Joe's on Santa Monica in West Hollywood. Open until 7:00pm everyday except Sunday, when it closes at 5:00pm. This place is of the couches and vaguely Indian decor variety, with some local artist's rather unremarkable technicolor paintings up on the wall - and priced to stay there. Two bucks for an iced coffee and $1.50 for two madeleine cookies. Plastic minimum of $10.00. Free WiFi, naturally, and generous electrical outlets.

Today has included a host of the usual coffee shop patrons - housewives yoked to strollers, screenplay writers yelling at phantoms, agents talking up mohawk-ed rising stars - with the fabulous exception of a group of old Russian men and women, chain-smoking around a table over little espresso cups.

Saw a friend's band play last night at the Seven Grand. I've got no ear for jazz, which sometimes makes me feel like a square cat. Was treated to an East Side and a Big Mac. Never thought I'd be a whiskey-drinker but it seems strangely appropriate right now in my life.

Tonight is Not The Government in Echo Park. I'll see you there!



I went for an hour long run down Hollywood Blvd last night. Man was that trippy.