<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[The Dish]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[http://dish.andrewsullivan.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[Andrew Sullivan]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://dish.andrewsullivan.com/author/sullydish/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[One For The&nbsp;Road]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[<p><a href="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg"><img data-attachment-id="203753" data-permalink="https://dish.andrewsullivan.com/?attachment_id=203753" data-orig-file="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg" data-orig-size="640,480" data-comments-opened="0" data-image-meta="{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;}" data-image-title="dish_sunset" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=300" data-large-file="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=640" class="alignnone size-large wp-image-203753" alt="dish_sunset" src="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=1024&#038;h=768" srcset="https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg 640w, https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=150&amp;h=113 150w, https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=300&amp;h=225 300w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px"   /></a></p>
<p>In an engrossing mini-travelogue, Laura Barton <a href="http://moreintelligentlife.com/content/places/simon-willis/boulevard-broken-dreams?page=full">traverses</a> the &#8220;boulevard of broken dreams&#8221;:</p>
<blockquote><p>When we mention that we are walking the length of Sunset [Boulevard], people look at us in disbelief, assuring us that it was not only dangerous but most definitely weird. At street level, though, you see more: an IBM laptop in a discarded takeaway box holding seven prawns; two men dancing in the back room of a salsa club; the words &#8220;Love Is What You Make It&#8221; scrawled across a wall. You catch the faded incense as you walk past the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, see Jayne Mansfield&#8217;s pink suitcase displayed in the window of the Dearly Departed Tours Office and Curiosity Shop, with a sign beside it instructing you to &#8220;note the damage&#8221;. &#8230;</p>
<p>To walk Sunset is to be struck not only by the deliberately outlandish characters but by the many mentally disturbed people on its sidewalks: the woman rooting through bins who growled on approach, the man masturbating in a car park, the slink-eyed souls muttering darkly to themselves on street corners. Then there was the peculiar encounter not far from the intersection with La Brea Avenue, as a normal-looking young man hurtled towards us on a skateboard.</p></blockquote>
<p><!--tpmore --></p>
<blockquote><p>He was bare-chested, carrying a guitar and eating an ice cream, and it was only as he drew close that we saw something fractured in his eyes. &#8220;Save us!&#8221; he barked as he skated by. &#8220;Before they all kill us!&#8221;</p>
<p>And if the air soured then, it was just as suddenly sweetened by the chirruping of a man sitting among the plants on the verge, his hair a tangle of ribbons and purple plastic, swigging Bud Light from a large water bottle. &#8220;I&#8217;m in the penthouse!&#8221; he called brightly. It would be wrong to say we had a conversation. He spoke as if a string had been pulled to make him talk. Why had he come to Los Angeles, I asked, and he gave a disconcerting grin. &#8220;I&#8217;m tropical, like a dolphin!&#8221; he hollered. &#8220;You don&#8217;t put it in the snow!&#8221; He propositioned us, and upon our polite refusal he launched into Carly Simon&#8217;s &#8220;You’re So Vain&#8221;. We all sang it, from start to finish, there on the sidewalk.</p></blockquote>
<p>(Photo by Flickr user <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ohchristopher/5969169114/sizes/z/in/photostream/">misterbutler</a>)</p>
]]></html><thumbnail_url><![CDATA[https://sullydish.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dish_sunset.jpg?w=580&fit=440%2C330]]></thumbnail_url><thumbnail_width><![CDATA[440]]></thumbnail_width><thumbnail_height><![CDATA[330]]></thumbnail_height></oembed>