Some nights, the city works, even for an hombre of mine own dotage. Past Mahler's First at the WDCH, then past the LAPD HQ, and stop to ask the four satellite trucks if they might be there for Austin Beutner's talk on the economy (no, they're there for a banal announcement on the Hollywood Hills parts-murder). And into One Eyed Gypsy (did this place used to be Bordello? Is this a soft wheeze on Gypsy punk band Gogol Bordello?) to Shepard Fairey's party for something or other--it doesn't seem to take much provocation for the top street artists to throw a party. Maker's Mark drinks, goofy photos, First Street Bridge at 2 a.m., and off to Tommy's at 2:30 a.m. Past an engagingly creepy mural on a commercial building on Hyperion, vurrry late, good night.
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