Sticky

keep out - beware of dog - danger

  • 26th September
    2014
  • 26
  • 26th September
    2014
  • 26
Wow, looking really great, how's it going?😘🍻

Asked by: Anonymous

wow hey lookin good too, person hey TGIF amirite let me be honest I’ve been drinking 

  • 26th September
    2014
  • 26
I love me a blonde California bombshell. Hope you're doing well, sticky. With love from the great Midwest <3

Asked by: Anonymous

Hello midwest California says hi do they have vodka out there? Peace, love and good sex my friend xoxo

  • 26th September
    2014
  • 26
Sunset Boulevard is flooded for the second time in two months and people are stuck in the purgatory that is Hollywood, trying to get from west to east or east to west but what&#8217;s also true is that it&#8217;s 76 and breezy without a cloud in the sky. It&#8217;s Friday and the first fall weekend and one of the few we&#8217;ll have with perfect weather. Everyone is already dressed so well. 🌴🍁🌴

Sunset Boulevard is flooded for the second time in two months and people are stuck in the purgatory that is Hollywood, trying to get from west to east or east to west but what’s also true is that it’s 76 and breezy without a cloud in the sky. It’s Friday and the first fall weekend and one of the few we’ll have with perfect weather. Everyone is already dressed so well. 🌴🍁🌴

  • 7th August
    2014
  • 07

I found a dive.

I didn’t have to think long before remembering the Kibitz Room was only three blocks away. Jimmy is bar tending. I don’t know Jimmy but everyone else seems to. “Thanks, Jimmy!” says this girl with a South African accent sitting next to me at the bar with her girlfriend as they flip through pages of Comso and Allure. It’s dark - so looking through fashion mags seems an odd choice to me.

Jimmy is wearing a green and red shirt that says “go buckets” or something and I have zero interest in what it means. Oh, he just said why to a Persian preppy guy ordering “silver tequila”. He’s from Boston and it’s a Boston thing?

A four-piece band plays in the background. “Jimmy!” shouts another patron. This one is a small white dude with a modern hair style wearing a ‘fancy’ Supreme shirt. Hair gel. Pale. Designer jeans. You know the type. 100% Melrose attire that just screams “I’m an EDM DJ”. He hands Jimmy a card and Jimmy is thankful.

"Sure man yeah I look forward to trying that yeah ok man thanks ok cool" that hyped up dialogue that occurs in loud dark bars. Oh, I just overheard. The card guy runs an after-hours things with games and booze and stuff. Jimmy is now explaining it to the cocktail waitress.

This crowd vibe doesn’t match the live music. Singing now is an older Liza Minnelli type and her band is rag tag at best. But man, the sound is nice. Almost too nice. Like I’m an extra in some movie about going out on a Summer night like Manhattan or LA Story or well, After Hours.

The white guy with the skinny on the happening after hours is back and I see now he has an ironic mustache. He’s talking to an older woman at the end of the bar. “Jimmy!” she yells.

The guy who I thought was Persian is actually Indian. I know this now because he just sat down next to me. He’s wearing an Indiana hat and is still sipping his “silver tequila”. He offers to buy me a drink. I decline. We agree we enjoy the music, strangely, maybe because it’s good or maybe because we’re getting older as we’re both 29 and aren’t keen to mixed drinks or hard music.

“Elevator music,” says silver tequila guy, “I’ve never hated it.” Me either I think to myself. Three tall white dudes with long hair and skater shirts walk into the bar and greet the bartender, unsurprisingly. It’s Wednesday night and this dive is alive. Liza starts singing “The Fool On The Hill” in the style of Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66.

“Hey Jimmy!” I yelled, “Can I get another scotch?”

  • 13th May
    2014
  • 13
Dry heat and strong winds mean summer has come early this drought-ridden year. Oh, LA. Where dreams come to starve themselves into a size 2. A city without a heart. Nothing is real but anything is possible. I was born here yet you wonder why I am the way I am, darling. Can’t you see I’m half a person and half a grand idea?

Dry heat and strong winds mean summer has come early this drought-ridden year. Oh, LA. Where dreams come to starve themselves into a size 2. A city without a heart. Nothing is real but anything is possible. I was born here yet you wonder why I am the way I am, darling. Can’t you see I’m half a person and half a grand idea?

  • 29th April
    2014
  • 29

Wind

Some call them Santa Anas. Others say it’s earthquake weather. On these unusually warm Los Angeles nights when the wind is stronger and more purposeful than usual, you sense danger approaching. Peril blows in from the restless desert in the form of newness, disruption, and uncertainty. Trouble is on the way and it’s coming in many forms. The neighbor’s friendly dog growling and snapping at you. Your lover’s white lie that you don’t catch until you’ve hung up the phone. The smell of the woman upstairs baking cookies. “In this heat?” You shake your head. Nothing makes sense.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and then suddenly the wind strikes the wet on your neck and a chill runs down your spine. You look down at the hand holding the lukewarm bottle of Coors and you watch as goose bumps grow on your arm and you shiver. “Burr.” 

Oh, the Santa Anas. The wind sings through tree branches and makes the curtains in your bedroom billow out like a pregnant belly then suck back in like an exposed rib cage. In and out, back and forth with a haunting howl that grows and fades, grows and fades. Then suddenly - stillness. Quiet. Like a warm wind traveling towards the ocean, nothing is as it should be and you’re scared because you’re sure the earth is about to shake under your feet. The fever won’t break, the climax has come and the dry heat returns so you to start to sweat all over again.

The wind that carried such danger through the night disappears with the sunrise and when morning comes, only blue skies remain. Clear skies. Too clear - blindingly so. The sky is a bright blue canvas stretching to eternity and it feels so fake that you pray for grey or clouds or anything to show you the sky is alive. You wince in the sunlight because there is only blue. Blue like a baby boy’s bedroom, blue like a cartoon swimming pool, blue like a Santorini rooftop or your Barbie doll’s eyes. All other colors are muted and bleached and you’re supposed to forget the fear of the night before. You wonder, what is real? “Today’s gonna be a real scorcher.”

  • 17th April
    2014
  • 17

Love

It stings the way a lemon does when it touches the bloody cuticle you’ve been biting at. When paired with something usually lovely, usually fresh and inviting like a citrus fruit, that open piece of flesh that used to be a hang nail or a bit of extra skin that you couldn’t leave alone turns something you enjoy into something that hurts. That sting, that sharp pain makes you say “Ah!” out loud to yourself because no one is around to hear you. Relief only comes when you suck on your finger, tasting the ironlike sap mixed with sourness and through the pain you find calm, finally, until you realize you’re not done cooking, you’re not done squeezing the juice out of the lemon and maybe I should have waited to suck the pain out until I knew I was done perpetuating it you think to yourself. Dammit. 

  • 11th April
    2014
  • 11
I want to be very alone and very not alone almost simultaneously. I want to be committed and free at the same time. Sometimes I wanna bake the cake, eat the cake, and not share the cake and sometimes I’ve made the cake for someone else and no, that’s ok, I don’t want a bite it’s all yours!
  • 7th April
    2014
  • 07

Tell him he’s sexy. Explain to him that he defines what sexy means to you, personally. Kiss him then pull away and let your eyes gaze upon the place you just kissed and with your mouth slightly agape, feel the sexiness radiate from his skin until you have to kiss that spot again. Let him watch you lust for him. Let him listen to the slowing of your breath and the acceleration of your heartbeat. Whisper it. Shout it. Just say it, every day, in your own way. Eliminate doubt from your sex life and just tell him you want him. A good lover will see your honesty as a precious gift to be handled with care. There is nothing sexier than a woman in touch with what pleasures her. 

  • 4th April
    2014
  • 04

Where’s the passion all of the sudden? Where’s the kindness so effortlessly thrown my direction that caused me to fall so deeply in love with you? “I love you I love you there’s only you, I love you…” and so on and so on and what? Wait, why are you speaking to me in that tone? Is it drugs? Is it me? Is this over?

I can’t wrap my head around your confusion. I can’t understand your refusal to work, work, work… that’s what we do! We work on things and work things out work ‘til we can’t any longer. We work to vacation, vacation then work and… oh, what? You have a headache? You’re emotionally exhausted? From what? Life? Can’t you see how silly you sound, how silly you are, how easy you have it? It’s me who makes the sacrifice and, for what? A cold shoulder and a bitter attitude?

Emotional exhaustion is for mourners and the chronically ill and the loved ones of those facing addition or financial ruin or a broken family or other, terrible things. One does not grow emotionally tired from carrying out simple responsibilities. You wanted to be here, love. You wanted me and said to me, so many times, “I don’t think you realize how much I understand that you work so hard! I appreciate you!” Now as we stand here with the weight of that declaration on our shoulders you seem fatigued. Baby, this is what you wanted.

You’re not awake? But you’re speaking right to me. Your posture is slumped and your back is tweaked and you seem… irritated? People speak so assuredly about goals and what they want but some, the weak, the distracted and the lazy, they forget that a goal, a passion, is a journey! It’s a trek through the muck and the dirt and some dreadful stormy weather for the sole purpose of making it to the other side. A goal is a destination and you can’t book a first-class ticket.

Look at you, so handsome. So wavering. So lost behind those once-loving eyes. My cards have always been on the table, dear. A difficult one to love am I but a dishonest woman I’ve never been. Men may say they enjoy the challenge of loving me or worse, being loved by me. But I’ve only met a few who make it out with limbs in tact. Be kind to me or you will feel the coldness of my wrath. Don’t play games unless you plan to win.

  • 21st March
    2014
  • 21
I read your posting on "neighborhoods". I'm gonna be new to LA also. I'm moving to West Hollywood. Within WeHo, I've heard that weho on Santa Monica is the "gay" area. And that weho on Melrose is the "straight singles" area. Again, just hearsay. What's the best area for 20's/30's straight single guy in west Hollywood? Thanks

Asked by: Anonymous

WeHo is what you get when party crazy Hollywood collides with yummy money Beverly Hills. It’s awesome. 

Anywhere you choose to live in West Hollywood will be beautiful and lovely. The entire City of West Hollywood is LBGT friendly, as indicated by our rainbow colored sidewalks, parades, and even the attitude of City Hall which hosts numerous community events to support our LBGT community. The only “gay” area, if you means bars and stuff, is located between Crescent Heights and Doheny along Santa Monica Blvd (highlighted in pink). However, good luck snagging an apartment in that part of town. It’s meticulously kept and quite exclusive. 

The rest of WeHo is run by the breeders, so if you’re down to play with the pretty people on Sunset or the artists on Melrose or the skateboard kids on Fairfax or everyone else at the Grove/Farmer’s market, you’ll have no trouble meeting chicks as a single straight guy. I’ve highlighted those areas in yellow.

You know, if you watch the first seasons of The L Word and Entourage you’ll learn everything you need to know about WeHo and Mid City Melrose/Fairfax, I promise.

(sorry to everyone completely sick of me running this particular subject into the ground)

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("neighborhoods" part 1)

  • 19th March
    2014
  • 19
  • 19th March
    2014
  • 19
  • 11th March
    2014
  • 11

I saw the most beautiful woman today. She was tall and lean and wore bell-bottomed jeans and had long red hair. It looked like a wig or like she’d just left the beauty parlor it was so perfect but at the same time, the way she carried herself so effortlessly, I was convinced that it was simply the way she must look every day, down to her perfect strawberry colored features, doll-like soft face and enviable figure. She was carrying something down Melrose near Fairfax though I don’t remember what. I was so intrigued with her espadrilles and how her jeans covered them just the right amount and by the old white Jeep she packed that thing she was carrying into, I didn’t even notice. I really love living in a world where that kind of beauty exists even while you’re sitting in traffic after a shitty day at the office.