Crossing the Street

Last weekend I crossed the street. Went to LA to see a dear friend I didn't know well, if that makes any sense. And this is where street crossing begins.

Our work in the forklift industry brought Miss Burbank and I together. Mr Guy encouraged this further after meeting her and seeing how much we like each other. He made the radical suggestion that I plan a weekend with Miss Burbank, like he does sometimes with Mr Guy South, and I up and did it.

She took me to the weirdest place, the Oak Crest Market in Studio City. Part wine store, part thrift store, they have a deli and sell produce. You can buy potatoes and Jello salad, NOS (new old stuff) and OOS (old old stuff). Every item in the store is covered in a layer of dust that is either thin or thick, depending on the item's tenure. I left with a pack of cigarettes, a rain gauge and some mix tapes, one of which, "Funny Tape" turned out to be a tape of a record called "Sebastian Cabot, actor / Bob Dylan, poet." I didn't think it was funny, but gave it to someone at work who did!

We went to Fred Segal, which is the kind of store I'd usually be too intimidated to go into. But with Miss B, I was not, and my excuse was that I was shopping for an upcoming fancy "do" at the factory. Emboldened, we went to a resale clothing boutique, and then we crossed the street to walk back to the car.

Across the street we found an antique store that also had clothing in the back and I tried on weird designer garments, causing Miss B to say "we should cross the street more often." There you have it. Our whole wonderful weekend was crossing the street, and everything we did had that magical quality of trying to do something that was new, either because one of us hadn't done it or because we had never done it together.

More photos to come, and a trip up here for her in the future.