Maybe we enjoy the secret thrill of watching a once-cute child actress blossom into a buxom sex-symbol only to get bloated on whiskey and cocaine and her own radioactive ego, left to crash and burn like a kamikaze bisexual and flush what’s left of her toxic soul down a shit-stained toilet. Maybe… but then again maybe not.

That’s right. You can now purchase and read the book that put Hank on the map, with his very name on the cover and a brief bio on the back. And it’s not only a bona fide work of fiction, but a damn good one at that.

The Doors are like a religion unto themselves. This may sound utterly pretentious, but 40 years after the fact, they remain the unique kind of band one either chooses to believe in or not.

Whoever said Los Angeles is lacking in arts and culture has certainly NOT visited Barnsdall Art Park, and has especially not visited the park on the second Sunday of the month. That’s right, the arts are alive and well here. This I am sure of after Sunday April 11th when I headed over to the art park, being a first timer myself, for a night of vibrant, living art.

“Once, without realizing it, they spent ten minutes 
conversing about two entirely separate topics. 
Alex was talking about S/M lifestyles, and Patrick 
was talking about living in New York, and they didn’t 
realize their error until Alex said, with an air of finality, 
‘Well, it’s a lot to go through just for an orgasm.’”

—Fool’s Errand, Louis Bayard