East Coast, West Coast, Everyone's A Killer: Why Are There No Clouds?

Seriously though, why the fuck are there no clouds out here? What's wrong?
Also, a quick note, for the next three weeks, any time you see me type the word "MOTHAFUKAH" or its plural form "MOTHAFUKAHS", you are meant to be hearing it in the voice of David Duchovney's Hank Moody from Californication, which, if you have not watched it, is just fun as hell, despite its continual lack of plot. Brilliant cameos abound...

Now, tell me...have you ever eaten a hard boiled egg in one bite? If so, then you know what Acting is. What it REALLY means to be an Actor. No, not really, but I feel like, now that I am super famous (like dumbsuperfucking famous) that I should start asking stupid questions and equating them with acting. So brace yourselves for that.

Yesterday was a short day for me, just a small handful of shots at a tiny little bookstore called Pop Hop. Marc Maron was shooting next door and I'd like to thank him for not taking random people from our set and having them on his podcast. Between set ups, I took a little wander down York  Boulevard looking for record stores, of which there were almost half a dozen.* York Boulevard is populated by gourmet donut shops, record stores, music stores, trendy vintage clothing stores and the like, but, in between each is some broken, abandoned store front or sprawl of homeless people. It's like a fucked up jawline; unnaturally white, perfectly capped teeth right next to rotting, smelly holes. Ah, El La.

After we wrapped, I tried out Seamless for the second time and I think it's honestly more work than just calling a number and telling some person what you want. Also, this is bizarre; not one person I have talked to out here knows what Seamless is. Spooky.

At the moment, I'm at the Baack Cave. We're about halfway through day three and, thus far, the hardest thing I've had to do in walk up and down a sloping lawn repeatedly. Murder on the knees, kittens. Murder on the knees. Kittens.
Knees kittens.

* How did I know there were almost a half a dozen record stores on York Boulevard? Well, I'll tell you: once I mentioned to Christina that Marc Maron was shooting next door and she called me a fucker because she's a huge fan and just KNEW I'd have some contact with him whilst out here, she researched the FUCK out of the area in order to experience things vicariously. Thanks punk.