It's true what they say. Me, and I think one other guy are the only ones who walk in LA. We pass each other on the street sometimes and exchange knowing nods.

I think his name is 'Pedro.'

You know, for about two days, I hated all of you bastards.

That last entry that I wrote, when I was in Chicago, I finished it around 9:30 am or so. When I was done, I went about my business, doing all the errands I had to run. I came back and checked my email around 5 pm. It was the last time I checked my email until Sunday morning.

So, 5 pm Friday, I'm checking my email:

"What's this?" I said to my empty apartment. "No one signed my guestbook?"

Until Sunday evening, I was thinking to myself, quite bitterly: 'Oh, well I guess uprooting myself and moving all the damn way across the country is a major non-event to all of my supposed D'Land "pals."'

Bastards!

I shared this view with Jonny, who was over at my apartment to consume massive steaks.

He said something like "What are you talking about, you pale moron? A zillion people signed it."

I went and looked, and I found that the man spoke the truth. For some odd reason, just for those two days, I wasn't getting email notifications when someone signed the guestbook. Oops.

Um. Sorry? Heh.

You're good people.

I'll be back tomorrow with the full story of the flight, meeting Jonny-boy, and my massive palacial apartment.

Right now, I've got some settling in to do, as well as some personal things to which I must attend.

I will say that the weather is beautiful here. I also like looking at palm trees, I'm discovering. It would be a great day to lay out at the pool or beach or something.

If only there were a large body of water near Los Angeles...

Oh, and if anyone in the area knows of someone with a car they want to sell for less than $1000 or give away for, oh, free, that would be swell.

My birthday is a week from today.