"You on Coke? ", "Nope, I just had a good summer."

Forth of July.

From my Hollywood roof top we watched fireworks from Dodgers stadium, the Staple Center, and Santa Monica beach light of the sky around us. My closest friends and I dodged illegal fireworks being set off by small mexican children whose mother was somewhere else completely. 

Fear of being set on fire while on rooftop. Kind of fun. 

We gulped cheap beer and made toasts to being in the City of Angels. 

Completing the first set of goals, and letting out a brief sigh of release before we battle the next.

Refreshed.

Later in the car we blair the Counting Crows and know every word. We smoke varied brands of cigarettes as we drive down to Venice beach. 

We arrive just as all the crowd is leaving. That's the way we like it. We pretend we are a troup of charming assassins, or maybe just a cool band. We climb down steep rocks to a cove we spy. The waves creeping further up each lap. Girls in short skirts, only one hand void of cigarette, shimmy down the boulders and complain of having to pee. The boys stay slightly behind, perhaps for protection, probably for the view. 

We temp the unusually warm waves to hit us as we squat on jagged rocks with another drink. The boys aching to dive in. Girls thankful they didn't.  

Now in the mood for company we drive to a small Tiki dive bar in Silver Lake after we make a stop for more cigarettes and Red Bull. Upon arriving we find parking 5 yards from the door and are greeted with no cover and an invitation to smoke inside. We like this place already. The attractive, low key hipsters smiled briefly and then go back to their drinks and intellectual conversations.  The white haired bartender was tan and wore a Hawian shirt. He chanted, "BOBA, BOOBA, BAYBOO", and other random words he may or may not have known had a connection to the Tiki. Though now after thinking bout it, he he certainly knew. He had a heavy hand. We all sipped strong fruity drinks and admitted we were drunk, besides the DD, of course. 

 

We pile into my car and make the journy home, promising the boys they will swim tomorrow.