Hot as blazes. Futile fans. AC is bourgeoisie. Sweat in my sleep. Rooftop is best escape.
I moved around a lot as a kid — something like eight schools and ten houses before I left for college. My friends rarely lasted more than a school year. But now I’ve known Atreau for more than half my life. He lives in Oakland these days. He’s still good at skateboarding and still bad with money. Whenever we get together it’s like no one ever left. He’s like a brother. These are some photos I made of him in an empty room in San Francisco last month. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I’m really glad I have them.
It’s a sad fact of my continued descent into adulthood that many of the friends I consider the dearest I only see a few days a year. Some of the closest are 3000 miles away in SF and LA. I do what I can to make the most of those fleeting visits.
Hunter and I decided to look for the Hollywood sign at 2am. It was too dark to see anything but I’m sure we heard plenty of mountain lions and angry law enforcement.
Attempting to redeem myself after a faceplant.
