LatinosUSA

Summer sparkle curve.

Night arc panoramic.

Windows wrap quartz to coastal Pacific storm; her darling song has a starlight edge here and there, over sea. A modular artist through the albums she’s made, her “Factory” tune a holiday paint dappling car insides in colors warm and sorta scissor-snipped, and no question from joy.

Yeah, her voice a math-peppered angle from dash to door, oddly beamed in old school magnetics and the Maxell shiny chrome. High Bias, in fact.

Coffee great tonight, by the way, while crossing major cold roads deserted in LA after half my calendar with a San Pedro location for CBS on their super show (one supposes). Voyage now surreal on freeway, far faster than legal, and empty, and profound melodic genius of her musical stuff via dashboard Nakamichi, this ultra-cool Go-Go chick with talent rather like mega-Star Trek with gourmet vanilla beans. And fire.

Of course, she was in Star Trek ’86, with whales and lightning and shattered glass.

Perfect.

~~

Dark outside. World of August and ocean beyond and parallel striped acetylene like neon soaked gold. Kinda. And no doubt with a delicious deep tune, her beacon and legend, and a Kadupul memory to never forget.

2 AM and forward.