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About Los Angeles

Still, it’s dark too, like Del Toro’s film. “The pale man sees you,” I’d mutter, thinkin bout the creeps lurkin in that world. Makes me wanna zap em with my ray gun—pow! But nah, I’d just chat her up, ask her fave food or somethin. Keep it chill. *We come in peace* (robotic tone). Probs exaggerate in my head later—tell my alien bros I banged a whole harem, hah, total bullshit but sounds epic. What you think—should I try it? Nah, stickin to my radios—less drama, more static. Peace out!

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Many times, including deep in the California redwood forest, inside the hollowed-out stump of a tree that was probably bigger than my first studio apartment.

My chill spot? Oh, oh, the river Gloom! Flowy, twisty, murmuring water, hissing and cold like pain, but calm in darkness. I recall, oh, I recall it was like “Why so serious?” Echoing through the night, yes, yes, like Batman's call, precious.

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