Somewhere on this very website is another screenshot where Laura says being delusional is what makes me Ryan . . . but I can’t find it. So this other screenshot I just found in my drafts about my own delusional nature will have to suffice . . .

I just found these on my computer . . . my skeleton buds and me . . .

DID YOU KNOW?

. . . those skeletons in my logo are from a back-alley mural in Los Angeles? It’s on the side of a bar called the Cha Cha Lounge at 2375 Glendale Avenue, a few blocks from Silver Lake Reservoir.

My cousin Jack and I discovered it by accident during one of our impromptu drug-fueled midnight LA road trips. Feeling fed up with the world, we hopped in our decommissioned police car and drove down to LA to get away from it all for a little while. We got in so late that we ended up sleeping in the backseat (and trunk) of the car next to the reservoir. In the morning, we drove to the nearest coffeeshop, which apparently no longer exists, and which was across the street from the Cha Cha Lounge. We brushed our teeth and washed our faces in the restroom there. I flirted with the barista a little and then we both sat down and drank black coffee until we felt insane enough to HIT THE STREETS again.

Standing on the patio of that now long-gone coffeeshop with arms akimbo, I saw from behind my big white sunglasses that skeleton mural across the street and my brain lit up like a slot machine:

I said to Jack: “We gotta go take some pictures over there.” We parked the police car alongside it and did just that. One of those pictures ended up serving as the cover to a novella I wrote about that trip:

Jack is holding a wooden pizza shovel. I have no idea where we got that. Our trunk was full of weird stuff we collected and/or stole, including multiple traffic cones we intended to use for mischief. But the pizza shovel, along with the traffic cones and a majority of whatever the hell else was back there, were stolen along with the car about four months later. (We got the car back . . . but the car was stolen an additional three times over the next year. It was cursed. I’ll write more about that some other time . . .)

Anyway: I try to visit that wall every time I’m in LA. And I always take pictures to document its continued existence:

However: despite having visited LA about a dozen times in the last two years, I have not been back to see it, but I often dream of it. I just never feel like making the long drive from Amissa or Cera’s place to Silver Lake. And in case you didn’t know, every drive in LA is a “long drive” because it takes like an hour to move a single mile.

I don’t know how old this photo is, but according to Google Maps, The Skeleton Wall has so far survived the slow decay of the world:

There is something I really like about it . . . it’s both ominous and cheerful in a way, just like me. You got 20-foot-tall skeletons marching with a bunch of guys in yellow hazmat suits and Devo hats while fireworks (or bombs) bloom overhead. And they’re all living in perfect harmony. Where are they going? Into the dark future . . . Together.

Personally, I would love to be friends with a 20-foot-tall walking skeleton, let alone a dozen of them.

Well! There it is. Now you know. If you’re ever in Los Angeles and want to pay tribute to your favorite Weird Internet Guy, go see it. Say hello to the boys for me. If it’s still there, send me a picture. If it’s gone, don’t tell me . . . I’m just going to go the rest of my life believing it is still there, even if it isn’t. They can paint over the mural in the real world, but they can’t ever touch the image of it in my mind. They’d have to kill me to make it go away, and even then its memory would persist in the starry ether of eternity . . .

I WENT ON DOWN TO LONDON TOWN . . .

. . . and I took a lot of pictures, or else was in pictures taken by either Bex, Nicole, or Jamal. I haven’t made a big-ass post that’s just a bunch of pictures in a long time, so:

16 SEPTEMBER 2026:

I arrived in London around 10:30 a.m. It took me about two hours to get from Stansted Airport (arguably London’s worst (and cheapest) airport) to Bex’s neighborhood in Southeast London. Were I back in Berlin, I’d be well into Poland on my way to Warsaw in that amount of time . . . but no matter: it was all worth it to see a special girl I know. And so gladly I endured the four forms of transportation and many hours of travel across Europe . . . from my detective’s tower in Berlin to merry old England.

Bex biked over to the nearest bus stop and retrieved me, and then I bought her lunch at a nearby cafe on account of 1) she’s my fiancée and 2) she was putting me up for five whole nights. After discussing our wedding at length, we shared a sort of chocolate-swirled pastry and headed home.

Later that evening, we took shots of Limoncello and headed to her roommate’s gallery opening, where we ran into Brother Jamal. We pounded free beers and walked around like the larger-than-life cartoon characters we are, signing autographs all along the way.

Afterward, we made a pitstop at her ex’s place to grab a bag of BEX shirts she’d left behind some time ago, one of which she gave me. (I slept in it that night, and woke up the next morning with a sleeping Bex’s hand resting atop my T-shirted stomach, just above her own name. But I won’t post that picture . . . lol . . .)

17 SEPTEMBER 2026:

Bex’s band lifepath 99 had a show at THE GRACE. Being London, it took us about an hour to get there via at least two forms of public transportation. We hauled all her gear there . . . she told me that my presence (and prodigious muscles) saved her from having to take a £45 Uber. Hey, what else am I good for if not my capacity to carry heavy things, and be a sweet and perfect angel . . .

At the venue, I hung out with her and her band in the green room. I had brought along my camera to film the show. Olivetti arrived just in time to help Bex get ready. She attached some sort of ghostly fabric belt to Bex’s waistline. The opening band Lifeloose (another “life” band??), comprised of two girls who both appeared to be 4’9″, hung out with us as well, and I befriended them within thirty seconds. (Nicole said: “You’re such an Aquarius.” To which I replied: “I am as He made me . . .”) Nicole had us all draw two tarot cards before the show. I forget what mine indicated . . . I’ll have to ask her. But Bex and I both pulled the Four of Pentacles. I love it . . .

We stepped out to get food before she went on. And upon returning to the venue, Nicole and I had to check in at the front. Of course, we were on the guest list, being VIPs and all. The woman behind the counter asked for my name. I uttered the sacred words . . . the name I am known by in certain circles across the wild world:

☆ HOLLYWOOD RYAN ☆

Olivetti gave me a look. I know this look. It’s an implied eye-roll without the eye-roll. I said, “What? I really am on the guest list as Hollywood Ryan.” The woman behind the counter said, “He is.” Hah! I love it.

I stood near the stage and filmed both Lifeloose and lifepath99’s sets. I don’t know if my footage is any good or not, but I did it anyway.

Apparently Bex has written and recorded a whole album, which they played in its entirety . . . I along with the rest of the world had only heard her single up until now. Anyway, it ruled. Everyone was really into it . . .

Afterwards we got FOOD again, and then took the tube home. In bed, beneath the glow of her red lights, Bex showed me her adult coloring book. We consumed drops of liquid melatonin and fell asleep like two perfect angels.

18 SEPTEMBER 2026:

Next morning (or afternoon, I reckon), we woke up and utilized that adult coloring book. She told me it soothed her. I believed her once I too felt soothed by it.

We DICKED AROUND her house all afternoon, Getting Stuff Done, and at nightfall took the train AN HOUR (or more) across town to meet up with Brother Jamal and Sister Olivetti at some bowling alley / arcade / billiards / bar-type place where they literally frisk you when you come inside.

I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m a pretty good bowler. I was on a league as a kid (The Shooting Stars . . .) and so I played every weekend for at least a year or two. I’m used to bowl-sharking everyone . . . but I was bested by left-handed Bex. I did come in second place but it stung a little. Later, she and I teamed up for billiards and handily steamrolled Jamal and Olivetti. Admittedly, Olivetti did go on to kick our asses in foosball. So it goes.

AS IS OUR WONT: We had an impromptu photo shoot in the arcade . . . and then the four of us headed home on the train in the same direction. Jamal and Olivetti departed at their respective stops, and Bex and I returned to her fortified compound and stayed up till the late hours doing whatever it is we do at night.

19 SEPTEMBER 2026:

Bex needed new eyeglasses, so we went to Soho to look around for some. We went into a fancy coffeeshop to get out from the rain and drank fancy cappuccinos. And then we got the hell on with it.

At a department store, my natural Aquarian friendliness prompted me to tell a 60-year-old woman she had fantastic hair. She was taken aback and had me repeat what I had said. She replied, “Well, I like your hair too.” A woman with her whom I assume was her adult daughter looked on, seemingly bewildered that a younger man appeared to be hitting on her mother. But I was just paying her a compliment! We departed as friends.

On the way home, we stopped at an M&S, which is kind of like Trader Joe’s in a way, and RESTOCKED. (I’m sorry, but I will never get over these people referring to chips as “crisps”. Give me a break with that.)

I stole some ghostly white roses for Bex, and at her behest, bought her a lighter featuring a topless woman inexplicably holding a violin. This was got at some a tourist shop near the station where we had stopped off so I could grab postcards. I befriended two women at the postcard rack, being that I am, as Nicole pointed out, a card-carrying Aquarian.

Once again we headed back home to make a cute little meal and eat cute little snacks and have a cute little night. That’s the only way to fly.

20 SEPTEMBER 2026:

We all met up at Olivetti Tower to eat a bunch of Italian food Olivetti had graciously made for us . . . and, once satiated, I lay on the ground with my new best friend Phoebe the Cat.

21 SEPTEMBER 2026:

Bex left for her nanny gig around noon, so I walked to a nearby coffeeshop to work on who even knows what for a few hours. I drank an iced Americano and ate a gigantic-ass cookie until the place closed, and then headed for Gatwick Airport to chill until it was time to fly back to Berlin. I felt a sadness to leave my friends. What can I say? I love them.

I’ll be back in a few weeks for Halloween . . .

WELL!

i’m working on a post about visiting bex and nicole in london and found these lol

we went to a bowling alley where we were patted down and had to have our IDs scanned??

metal gear solid 2 rules

bewildering, she says! i got a sicilian (isabella) coming into my home and demanding i explain my aggressive solar defensive system! girl . . . my ancestors were evolutionarily programmed to eschew melanin in order to absorb and synthesize vitamin D in low-light regions of europe!! i have simply inherited their curse!!!

ADDENDUM:

i know i asked you to the fire

but man we had a ball

sunburnt skin a bad-boy grin

holding hands in montreal

Here it is . . . I’m taking the rest of the week off!!

UPDATE:

OK apparently Katie screened it tonight at KINOPLEX and something very unexpected happened . . .

Maybe the kids are all right after all!!!

Isabella and I made another video for her little business . . .

Spoilers: She kills me again!!

I just spent like ten hours editing my DUDES DONE WRONG intro for tomorrow night’s pick at THE KINOPLEX . . . being ROLLING THUNDER (1977). I put a lot of work into this fucking thing! I hope everyone digs it . . .

No joke: when my sister’s boyfriend and I were recording this thing at Kleistpark earlier today, a group of teenagers swarmed us, assuming (correctly) that they were in the presence of a beloved international celebrity. They asked for a selfie and everything. I’m serious!

Finally . . .

I am flying back to London for Halloween to see my fiancée. And I have decided that I like Gatwick Airport minus the fact that I could not find a single working electrical outlet in the entire airport. But yeah . . . I’m so excited I’m going to throw up. A flight from Berlin to London is like an hour and 20 minutes and costs about $70. I love that.

It is five in the morning and I’m exhausted . . . I have to wake up in six hours and film one last tiny scene, and then I’ll be done. OK?