01.20.08 to 01.23.08: Los Angeles... an ambiguous place for me. Once, I spent a lot of time here. Once, I thought about spending even more time here. Then I realized that it's like a weight, that it only pulls me where I don't want to go.

It's no longer the laid-back place I wandered in my college years. Now it's flash and fast paced. Now, more than ever, it's materialism. It's a mirage, this plain of things, this desert of excess.

I arrive on Sunday morning, and have time for breakfast with Audrey before my shoot. Audrey was one of my acquaintances in the punk years, when she sang in The Dadistics and I wrote and photographed for the 'zine. I think we only actually met a couple of times, although I have two sets of photos of her. She's had a rough couple of days, and going to breakfast seems to help.

At noon, I'm heading for Shae's downtown loft. She's almost ready when I arrive, still fighting with one uncooperative false eyelash. She lays out the things she's brought, and none of them really cover much. A couple of thongs, a see-through black thing, a few straps, shoes and boots. Apparently she's not shy.

The ninth-floor loft is bare, concrete floors, bare walls, exposed concrete ceiling, lots of windows on three sides. She's just picked up the keys in the past few days, and the furniture consists of one chair. We begin to shoot, exploring the shifting window light, exploring each other. The conversation quickly veers toward the darkness. The serious expression becomes more variable, emotion rises to the surface. The energy flows. She trusts enough to let go of control, to slip into a headspace that she now visits only occasionally. Then she comes back to what she knows so well, what she will learn to know even better. She's already aware, hungry to learn more.

I'm not sure how long we shoot, longer than usual. There are many pauses to talk. For much of the time she's wearing only shoes. At the end we talk more, sitting in her car, looking at photos. I finally pull myself away.

The next night I meet with several photographers in Pasadena, and for four hours we talk shop and more. One fellow has some surprisingly subversive work. But it's time to head north, to attend to my next days work. It's after midnight when I arrive in Bakersfield. The project goes quickly the next morning, leaving some unexpected time at the end of the day. I drive through the oilfields, photographing the blasted landscape. This is the cost of urban sprawl, of the car culture. This is the cost that most people never see. I find myself wanting to come back here, to spend more time photographing this strange place. But now, I need to get back to LA. There, I need to get back on an airplane. I need to get out of this place.