So I went.

Took the 5 to the 134 to the 101, 'cause that's where the gas was. Had to fill up the tank first, y'understan'.

Anyway, I was off, heading to the Valley. The Altima, its CD player and I were all working together tonight.

Hit the Laurel Canyon exit, 'cause that's where I'd decided I wanted to go. Not really based on much of anything, though I'm sure she knows why, having put the idea in my head.

LC's pretty fuckin' long, but when I saw Mulholland appear on my right, I busted quick, in a manner that was pretty tight and possibly illegal, though the street lights didn't seem to be arguing. It was harsh, though.

Now, cruising Mulholland is something that I've wanted to do for ages, thanks to our local mythology, and it was nice to see that there's no small amount of truth to be found there. The streets do curve quite severely and could kill someone if they were dumb enough to take them at ridiculous speed. There are some incredible houses along the road and on the side streets just off of it.

It was on one of those side streets that I parked so I could look out and see the lights of the city. Despite the weather, it was a warm welcome.

Home.

The Valley, the 101, Universal City and Hollywood are all easily in sight from the road. Some parts better than others at different points, obviously. Where I stopped, Universal and the freeway were the most noticeable. At another point further down, that freaky Lion King sign on the Pantages is clearly visible.

I wasn't alone on the mountain. A one point, a couple had pulled over on the opposite side of the road, very likely having some sort of romantic moment. A ways over, a guy had pulled over and was looking down into the canyon, where there were homes.

The lights are beautiful.

Anyway, I packed it in and cruised my way to Cahuenga.

Passed Deluxe, but there was no (free) parking, so I didn't bother.

Decided to go to the beach.

Took the long way.

Parked on Ocean, just south of Arizona, which was too far, but the walking was good for me. Thought about the pier, but decided against it. I crossed the street, examined the canon (you either know what I'm talking about or you don't), and went down the stairs and over the bridge that goes over PCH.

In the parking lot, I said hello to a security guard. Asked him why people were packing shit up and what these trailers were all about. Then I looked and saw the word "movie" on one of them.

He said it's an Adam Sandler movie.

He offered me a cigarette. I paused.

"If you don't want one, don't take one."

"It's not that, I'm just trying to decide how cold I am. Not cold enough, really. Thanks, though."

He proceeded to tell me about the guy he'd relieved, who was from Atlanta. Apparently, he'd never seen the ocean and when he went off the clock, he walked over to the water and called home on his cell phone. He said he was over there for an hour.

I headed to the water. I walked as flat-footed as I could, but still got some sand in my shoes.

I watched the waves break.

Couldn't see the sky for shit, December and all.

I walked back.

Emptied my shoes near the bridge, but it wasn't as bad as I thought.

Crossing the street, a guy actually stopped and waited for me before making his right turn. I saw it as politeness and so was caught off guard. Occurs to me now that he was probably just covering his ass, like I would do.

Back in the car, shed my jacket and sweatshirt. Made my way through town. Got a little confused, since I don't come out here ever and when I do, it's all freeway.

By the time I made my way to UCLA, it all went to shit.

On Wilshire, I apparently ran a red light and didn't realize it until that fucking camera flash went off. It went off twice, so I may have ran two lights, but there's so damn many on that street and the timing of them is all fucked up that I have no idea what the hell happened. I'm not looking forward to seeing that in the mail. Kind of put a damper on the rest of my evening.

Decided to take Sepulveda, since I've never done that, either. It mirrors the 405 and I always used to look at it when I would go down the freeway. To the Nuart. To UCLA. To the Valley.

Found the 101 and went home. More or less. Exited Cahuenga and soft-shoe'd through Hollywood. Made the left on Vermont, just because I was curious to see which whores were working tonight.

Only saw one, but she was hard to miss. Taller than me, huge tits and ass to match. Looked like a 'change. Didn't look at the hands, but the face was a clue. Manly as hell, shoddy make-up. The all over effect was more than a little disturbing. Whatever she charges, it's too much. The car around the corner had someone in it, presumably her pimp, since there wasn't any movement in the car. He was clearly more of the Hookers at the Point kind of pimp, rather than the Pimps up, Ho's Down sort. I don't even know if we have those flamboyant types in L.A...

So I drove on.

Not sure how much gas I blew on that little excursion, but I sure as fuck needed to get the hell out of the house tonight. I almost feel like I accomplished something.