Magic Is The Cheat Codes For The

You're Miserable, Edgy And Tired. You're In The Perfect Mood For Journalism.

Los Angeles Had No Culture Of Its Own, Just A Large Collection Of Misreadings Of The Artistic Histories Of Other, Proper Cities.

I Want Vasopressin, Washed Caffeine, Jumpstart, Ginkgo Biloba, Guarana, And Any Intelligence Enhancer Introduced In The Last Five Years.

Dance Like You're Stamping On A Human Face Forever, Love Like You've Been In A Serious Car Crash That Minced The Front Of Your Brain, Stab Like No One Can Arrest You, And Live Like There's No Such Thing As God.

Santa Monica's Only Walkable If Death Is No Hurdle. The Air's The Wrong Colour. People Put Sunglasses On Their Dogs. It's A Hideous Place Where Humans Are Not Welcome And Those Who Stay Suffer Eight Kinds Of Brain Damage.