And now Maya Angelou with the traffic report

So I'm on my way home yesterday and who should I see with her arm extended and thumb pointed skyward, but periodic contributor to the Hollywood Temp Diaries and national treasure Maya Angelou.

I wasn't in much of a mood to write last night. But lucky for me, Maya was. Trapped on I-10 between 26th Street and La Cienega she began to scribble furiously in her note pad. When I dropped her off at her destination (which was curiously near the Pleasure Chest), she handed me what she'd written. "It's the least I could do," she said. What a woman.

URBAN. URBANE. OR BANE

12 lanes slicing though

Culver City

Bisecting sprawl from

more...

Sprawl.

I dream of being home

On the couch,

Asleep

or

Watching Jeopardy!

Potent Potables for $1600.

The Christopher Columbus Highway

Going,

Nowhere,

Slowly.

Jacksonville is 3500 miles hence

At our current

"Pace"

15 days with no stops

even for

Gas

Food

or Lodging.

Barely faster than Horatio Nelson Jackson did in 1903.

Horns are useless instruments of noise. I wish there were

Noise Statutes. Right Danny?

I blame

Henry Waxman

His moustache,

Non-existent methane pockets and

Special interests.

Killing the

Subway to the Sea

How low can the speedometer go? Is the engine

overheating?

A traffic jam for what?

A Clippers game!

Nothing makes sense in Hollywood.

It never will.