Vem är du?

ok, i’m a little bit ashamed. see, i found myself at this amazing house and all i had was my cameraphone. or phonecamera. a camera in a phone. as opposed to a camera without a phone. which is seeming kind of anachronistic at this point.

ok, some context. i was in silver lake and i went to go visit a producer friend of mine at his house. i’d never been to his house, so i worked under the assumption he lived in a nice, normal house.

oh, but no. he lived (and lives) in a palace. this beautiful rambling palace overlooking the reservoir and the mountains in the distance. it felt like northern italy, if you pretend that silver lake reservoir glinting through the trees is some very small part of lake como.

no one’s sure if this was a silent film stars palace or a chewing gum magnate’s palace. but it’s a beautiful palace in the middle of silver lake with snow covered mountains in the distance (my iphone camera wasn’t up to the task of taking pictures of snow covered mountains in the distance, sorry).

At the end of last year, Ryan Young was commissioned by the French magazine Causette to document the human trafficking of young girls in Los Angeles, as well as some of the people who are trying to stop their exploitation. 

Hi internet peeps

I’ve never used this blog to actually post text, but today I read about a piece of shit human being who has been traveling to national parks in the US and tagging nature with her childish “art” all for the sake of Instagram likes. You can read about it here:

My heroes have always been cowboys And they still are, it seems Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams

Cowboys are special with their own brand of misery From being alone too long You could die from the cold in the arms of a nightman Knowin' well that your best days are gone Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen I let the words of my years fade away Old worn-out saddles, and 'old worn-out memories With no one and no place to stay

My heroes have always been cowboys And they still are, it seems Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams