I like when I wake up in LA and it's foggy. It sort of smells like fall, but won't ever really. Being up before anyone else is easy here. Especially in Laurel Canyon, where I often slink down the concrete steps of a brutalist home and find my car parked on the hill. This is after carefully extracting myself from J, who is a huge baby if disturbed by shifting blankets, and who often makes frustrated, guttural sounds when he notices my leaving.

I can do anything I want once I get to my car. The steering wheel is cold from being parked overnight. I look in my bag for adderall. Once I find one, I use an old drink to swallow a cracked halve. Then I turn up my heat and roll down the windows, which is a huge waste.

J says this is how he knows I'm not Jewish. I just like the feeling.