My tennis shoes edge towards the lip of the granite precipice and my heart races. I feel the sun on my face and a surge of adrenalin in my arms, legs, and chest. My older brother and I have made it to the precipice of the crazy rock formations that create a centerpiece for Vedauwoo National State Park. We smile broadly, without words, into the summer breeze. At 13 and 16 the view before us is something we can only experience. Appreciation will only come decades later. After becoming numb to the beauty of city living, and the long absence of a deceased sibling. But for now, the view is spectacular and the sheer drop, breathtaking.


Loving LA

Hello international airport, and sunshine, and flip flops, and gay boys in tank tops, smoking men speaking Farsi, and black girls with cornrowed hair – hello over botoxed housewives, over blinged out black guys with loud bass booming cars, and girls stroking tiny dogs with rhinestone collars – hello dodge ball, and go-go boys, and yogurt stop conversations – hello hiking on Runyon, biking to the beach, and yoga on the roof of Palihouse – hello traffic, and homeless, and people who look through you who don’t want to know your name – hello gay two stepping, leather events, drag bingo, rainbow crosswalks, and naked brunch – hello gurl, and bitches, and cum on over – hello Oscars, and industry, and wanna be dreamers who refuse to give it up – hello kisses from my boy, grass-fed beef for dinner, and juice cleanses, and cuddling with the window open in February.