It was like that when we sliced it open.

The Master Cleanse is over as of last Saturday. Ales and I stuck to it for our pre-determined trial period of five days. I have to say that I liked it and will definitely be doing it again, but was a little underwhelmed. Since I lead a fairly healthy lifestyle anyhow, there was no dramatic catharsis. There was no promised euphoria, either, and I spent the week operating at half-power which is the last thing I want when there are Things To Be Done. On the flipside, I felt far more relaxed than usual, and my sense of smell and sense of hearing improved significantly for the duration of the experiment. By the end of it all I was like the wolf, senses sharp and claws ready for FLESH. My conclusion: do it again, longer, no work. I suspect that the cleanse could be extremely beneficial when I have a bit of time to focus on myself and my surroundings instead of work, so that’s what I’m going to do in a few months.

This is a photo of my avocado shake. There are few things I love more than half of an avocado splashed with soy milk and honey and blended to frothy perfection. Breakfast of the gods, perfect for a power-punch before my morning workout.

Fence ghosts on Melrose Avenue, Valentine’s day.  I was on assignment from Chinashop and Ales joined me. I finally had a chance to introduce him to the magic of M Cafe, my favorite macrobiotic foodery in town. Which brings us to:

When we set out on Sunday morning, I was skeptical. My mission was to capture the spirit of Melrose Avenue – for me, a place filled with stubborn coming-of-age memories.  I still remember my first experience with that stretch of shops and concrete.

It was 1996, and I gothed the fuck up to pay my first ever visit to Retail Slut and buy purple hair dye for a touch up. I was so racked with anxiety, I’m not sure how I made it through the door. The shop, and the street itself, was once a mecca of all things cool and alt, and I felt a tinge of reverence when I first approached them.

Many years later, I ended up dating someone who worked at Retail Slut, working in another shop on the strip, and effectively becoming one of the salesgirls who used to intimidate the teenage me during shopping trips. Though my slightly elevated status in the subcultural food chain was amusing and I got to look at Lip Service and Illig catalogs before most mere mortals, my view of Melrose was significantly tarnished.

So, on Sunday, I was skeptical.

It was Valentine’s day – as I understand it, the celebration primarily belonging to chocolate, postcard, and flower companies, when they hold a midnight mass and chant over a massive bag of bloody recession money. Many Melrose shops also paid tribute to the gods of finance by bedecking their windows in red hears, balloons and tinsel, and dressing up mannequins in extra flirty party getups. Ten years ago, things would have been different.

Read the rest and browse my massive gallery from that day, on Chinashop. And that gallery really is massive, because we ended up spending three hours wandering the strip, talking to shop owners and sampling local delicacies.  A few samples below.

Always,