“I was sitting in a bar on Western Ave.  It was around midnight and I was in my usual confused state.  I mean, you know, nothing works right: the women, the jobs, the no jobs, the weather, the dogs.  Finally you just sit in a kind of stricken state and wait like you’re on the bus stop bench waiting for death.”

— Charles Bukowski,  No Way to Paradise

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2015