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About Los Angeles

So, one night, I’m done haulin’ hay—friggin’ exhaustin’, man! Hands all gritty, back achin’ like I wrestled a pig. I think, “Marge’d kill me, but I’m curious!” D’oh! Ain’t lookin’ for love, just a yarn to spin. I roll by this dive bar—neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk too. See this gal, all fishnets and attitude, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Every family’s got its mysteries,” I mutter, quotin’ Sarah Polley—ha! She’s smokin’ a cig, givin’ me the eye. I’m like, “Homer, don’t be a dope!”

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A small collection of simple headstones marked where a few of these too-used bodies lay. The markers, softened today by dappled shadows, appear to have been.

Man, there's Central Park—aka Chill Park. Kids laughin’, adults chattin’ it up. I always see families, messin’ around, spoutin' deep talk. Felt like a memory wipe sometimes, eh? Like that movie—leave no trace behind... "Meet me in Montauk", I swear!

Can Silverton girls basketball nab back-to-back 5A titles with key new player?