I've been typing like a fiend. Freelance typist. That's me. I'm seeing.

This morning, at work, my manager (the Sunday manager, incidentally, is my favorite) sent me next door to the AMPM for milk and a couple copies of the Times. And as I walked outside, the weather was fantastic. It was like an LA postcard out there. And the cars drove by. And the mountains stuck up above the buildings in front of me. And then I smelled it.

There's a quality in the air that I only smell occasionally, but that I remember smelling every time I went into my grandparents' backyard when I would visit as a kid. And when I've smelled it in other cities (Nashville, Bowling Green, Atlanta, anywhere with lots of cars in one place, basically), I always think mmm, LA.

And it's really strange to get all nostalgic about a place when you're actually there. It's like I forgot. Maybe I did.

Dude. I gotta go to the beach.

Labels: los angeles is weird., work.

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