Pictures of Fake Trees

Fake trees are plentiful in the Los Angeles area. They help to promote the non-green initiative found here. Also, they kinda look nice, nicer than unadorned cellphone towers at least. I love driver's photography, and this project let me showcase a lot of my skills. The 405 isn't dangerous enough on its own for me. But attempting to get a decent shot of of a fake palm tree in the middle of 4 lanes of traffic is just right.

Alternatively Acquired Bottles of Water

The sign at work said "Do Not Take: Water is for Mother's Day Pamper Party." And I fell in love. Sure Mother's Day had already passed. I still got great joy from taking all the water bottles I could stuff inside of stuff I brought to take water bottles in. It is one of my greatest joys, stealing useful items that don't hurt anyone if you steal them. Just like the oranges on the tree behind the Y.

Vintage ill-gotten oranges

I eat about 200 oranges a year from the tree behind the YMCA. I don't know who owns the tree. I don't care who owns the tree. 

Racquetball rackets

That must be confusing for children learning how to spell, to come across a phrase like :"racquetball rackets". Can we just spell words however we like? Are there no rules governing language? Is there a God? Poor children. My roommate, "The Racquetball Guy" has thousands of racquetball rackets in our apartment. I like to think of them as houseguests.

My roommate's guitars

He's a street musician, and these are his instruments. My favorite is the all-white "Peace" guitar. 

Cattle

My parents started their herd with 20 calves salvaged from a train wreck in Arizona, which they transported back to Missouri in a gutted school bus. Gutted school buses can be fun. I don't use the word cattle that often; I usually use the familiar form "cows". They are beautiful, delicious animals.

Letters from a crazy old tenant

 Her name was Denise Dunson, and for whatever reason, she began leaving large packets filled with letters she'd written each day on the doorknob to my office. I guess I had never told her she shouldn't. The letters smelled of incense, which I decidedly hate. Also, she chanted in kabbalistic prayer during some of the worst hours of the day for loud kabbalistic chanting, according to her neighbors. Mental disease can be ever so much fun. And although I eventually had to unsubscribe to her mailing list,  I've still got a couple trashbags full of letters like this.