InsaneJournal

It was hard not to notice the 6'4" middle aged man sprawled across one of the three sofas in the little cafe just off Venice Beach. He had a large mug of latte on the table nearby, a cigarette between his lips (Smoking ban be damned!) and a guitar across his chest. He was playing some sort of allegro, though allegro would be considered slow compared to what he was doing just then. His dyed black hair was in his face as he played, spilling over his shoulders and over his eyes. But his tattoos were prominent enough to give away just who he was, if the rest didn't.
This was his version of waiting patiently.