Mice and men and dogs

Day 29. The last sentence of yesterday’s blog was a statement of intent. “Zzzz” I am going home to sleep now. That was the plan. I’d had my ramen with suspicious egg. I was good to go bye bye. 

It all goes wrong with a single text. “I’m in town where are you?”. The brother of a dear friend. Here for six weeks. And since it’s his first night, and a Saturday, and just after a wrap, I text him my location and he is in an uber immediately. So much for “zzzz”. I shake myself awake and knuckle in for a long one. We end up in a dive bar. Bar R. The woman that drives us there in an uber gives Lyndon her number. She almost joins us in the bar. It’s one of those nights. I don’t know many people in this town so when someone comes up almost immediately and says “I know you” it comes as a surprise. But he does know me. We met at No Vacancy last week. It’s definitely one of those nights. This town feels more and more Iike London the longer I’m in it. We form a group of four boys and talk and live and laugh and it’s joyful. Not as much dancing as there might be. But we might as well be in Camden on a Saturday with less fighting. When it feels like time to go, we walk a long way home through the predawn fog. Oh yes, there’s fog here at the moment. There’s never normally fog. It’s not smog either, it’s definitely fog. An uber driver the other day on a long trip had everyone talking about normal LA weather the other day. I know enough now to understand that this is NOT normal. The driver concluded that I’d brought it with me from London. Certainly faced with the familiar temperature and visuals, we forget we are in LA earning us cries of “assholes, use the crosswalk!” We also remember we are in LA because we’re talking about all the things that brought us here. But it’s really good to hang out with him. We put the world to rights. It’s late by the time I get home, but my eyes are shining.


As is often the case, my eyes are shining a little less brightly in the morning. Yoga today is all about endurance and sweat. Despite the state I’m in, I stay in headstand longer than I’ve ever done without a wobble, and come down neatly, before almost immediately bursting out crying silently for the whole of the next posture. I leave feeling blasted and elated. Then I torment the dogs by coming home with a rotisserie chicken for Sunday lunch. Roger the chihuahua gets over his reticence around me in order to try and put himself in the way of dropped chicken bits.


I’ve recently discovered that Roger is the star of his own short film, shot by my housemate Mark and his girlfriend. I thought I’d share it with you guys as I like it and it has no budget. What’s more it’ll show you what a brilliant hound Rocko is. And it’ll do instead of the usual arbitrary rushed Ipad photo…

Mark’s a dude. It’s great that I managed to land so well in this lovely room, with a creative and good hearted man and three wonderful dogs. 

Post Script: Roger waited until my back was turned and immediately shat on my floor. Must’ve been something I said.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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