House sitting can be stressful.
No, it’s actually stressful. You’re responsible for another human being’s entire life.
There are a lot things to remember. They all revolve around a cat, the plants, or the mail. This, plus the job applications, interviews, and shows already taking up my head space. But now I get to do this in the comfort of my own fake Los Angeles home.
A lot of the next two weeks in this apartment will most likely be laying out my camera gear and silently stare at all of it, completely aware of all impending life decisions. I'm also staring at a pair of jeans and the eight striped shirts I brought with me.
While petting a cat. And dusting the Cheez-Its dust off my sweater.
The cat's probably eating the Cheez-It dust.
I’m not from Los Angeles and I still live at home, but working 12 hours in this massive cluster fuck of dreams and wonderful irritations has made me a fake native.
Other than “swinging vagina,” “lube caste,” and “murky” were all words brought up in conversation in the past 12 hours, Wednesday night was a very Los Angeles type of night. And earlier in the week I watched two grown men have a formal public debate about a mattress.
Each night I'm gathering wisdom from the older and wiser, listening to their stories of shitty experiences. It’s difficult to get a word in because I’m almost too absorbed in observing them.
The smartest thing I’ve said that night is that this amazing Xarelto commercial is my favorite thing on television that’s not a sitcom.
We’re (they're) talking about Death Grips.
The Amazing World of Gumball.
Am I supposed to know who Brian Blessed  is?
But yes, I will take this drink.
And yes, we should get pizza.
Oh no, we shouldn’t run into these people in the parking lot and extend our night for 10 minutes.
Let’s go get food? Let’s go get food.
This is the Los Angeles I'm used to. The ones with nights that make me want to punch holes in walls and scream internally for 10 minutes. Major bonus points if I can't figure out the love/hate relationship with the universe.
But for now I'll just feed the cat, water the plants, grab the mail, come home at 3AM, and sleep after the alarm goes, convincing myself that it's all going to be fine. 
 Oh, the voice of Clayton is Tarzan? Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?
 Just listen to the song of LIFE from David O'Doherty.