At about 9:45 most weekday mornings, I see this guy either walking or riding a bike on the north side of Los Feliz Boulevard between Fern Dell Drive and Hobart. I guess I notice him because he’s so cool looking; and by “cool,” I don’t mean “neat,” I mean cool. He’s in his ’60s or ’70s, and he’s always wearing an old baseball cap, red Converse high tops and what I guess you would call dungarees that are cuffed at the bottom. He never wears a shirt, and he has this really sunburned barrel chest.
I love this guy. He looks like an old rich artist who likes to pretend he’s a merchant marine. He looks like he could beat the crap out of Norman Mailer. I know Norman Mailer is dead, but this guy could have beaten the crap out of Living Norman Mailer. You know what I mean. It makes me so happy to see him that he more than makes up for the terrible new mommy aerobics club that hangs out in that part of Griffith Park (more on them later).
So anyway, on my way to work this morning, I decided to take a photo of him. Look what I got:
Nothing. He’s not there.* Is he a ghost? Wait, I think you can take photos of ghosts. Is he a vampire? He doesn’t seem like a vampire. He’s a ghost if he’s not real. And he might be too cool to be real. I will try to find out more.
*It is entirely possible that I’m just lousy at taking photos when I’m driving 40 mph. BUT I DON’T THINK THAT’S THE ANSWER HERE.