Keep watching the skies. I’ll watch the coastline.
“Well East coast girls are hip
I really dig those styles they wear
And the Southern girls with the way they talk
They knock me out when I’m down there” — California Girls — Beach Boys
Want to find a couple of good spots to recharge the juice, and avoid attention? Find the spot where last year’s all-out party-to-end-all-parties was held, and sit where they had the bonfire, in the ring of ashes. Wait until the exact moment of the apex of the party, then start dance until you fall over in exhaustion. When you wake up, provided you escape notice of the authorities, you’ll have a charge equal to twice a lower grade as could have been gathered by the original party. Dipsomancer friend of mine did this, he’s still drunk, from a New Year’s party. Oh. Happy 4th of July, all.
Never pick a fight with a guy at the Muscle Beach in Venice, especially if he’s got empty eye sockets, and wears a t-shirt that says “THEY CAN NOT SEE ME EITHER”. He’s the Cliomancers’ King of the Beach, and he’ll kick your ass so bad, your childhood home will catch fire. Call him ‘Sir Julius’, or it’s your ass.
Hit the weight pile at Santa Monica on the 13th or 26th day, on every other month, for two years in a row. When you find a pretty blonde of the appropriate gender on the anniversary, follow her for three blocks, and then turn around before you hit the fourth corner; if you do so correctly, you’ll be rewarded with a weekend of the best love life you’ll ever know, and a significant charge. Moreso, if you’re a limber Pornomancer.
Order a pizza on your enemy, with the exact price being equal to his or her birthyear, and have it delivered by a certain well-known pizza company. Don’t pay for it; if they do pay for it, and they eat it, they’ll have gas which angers lycanthropes, attracts Golems, and makes them rather unappealing in general.
The hidden homeless army is waiting for a messiah to lead them to Beverly Hills, and is wearing it’s uniforms; they look like hot dog vendors, and they’ll die for a cause they can understand, or drink in a single sitting.
I’d stay and chat, but the white-haired florist is officially onto me, and he’s sending his militant kittens after me. I mean, if I kill a kitten in broad daylight, I’m a madman. If it kills me, it’s just my bad luck, right? Wish me well, folks. I’ll need it, if I’m to catch the glowing hat-men.