LA is, to me, not about beaches or even particularly about Hollywood. LA is about strip malls, donut shops, car washes, and diners. Especially diners.

LA is interesting because it’s not a particularly late night city. It can’t compete with New York and it certainly can’t compete with New Orleans in that regard. But the small hours of the morning, maybe fifteen or thirty minutes before the bars close, contain a poignancy cut with a slash of noir. LA is lit with LEDs and yellow sodium streetlights; it is Rodeo and Skid Row; it is digital and expired 35mm.

Dates at Diners is my attempt to visualize my thoughts on this LA. It might be a love story—like many loves, I had to leave (multiple times) before truly appreciating it—or else it might be some cheap knock-off of a Vanity Fair Oscars shoot. I am hoping you will help me by dressing up, knocking back a drink, and becoming a character in this story.

I am not taking any new “dates” at this time.

A few pieces of information:

1) Despite the name, we are not on a date.

2) All genders are welcome.

3) Dress up like you’re going to an awards show, or else like you’re Tom Waits dreaming up inspiration for Nighthawks at the Diner.

4) I will write a short vignette about you, unless you have something you’d like me to feature.

5) I will not use flash, so the photos will be very high ISO and grainy, with minimal post.

6) You should probably take Sepulveda.

I look forward to working with you.