Damn. On my way home from the bar, after the crowding got too weird even before the second set had started (usually I'm good until the end of the secon set) and as I round the curve under Speer, I see:

This complete film noire moon. It's the lower right half, gently illuminating the cloud bank that's obscuring the invisible upper left half. That's pure b&w richness, in the background of spire for the TV-baptist church, with its spindly white tower and gawdy red neon legend 'Riverside Baptist Church.' Stunning in the play of Luna vs. Jay-sus, nature and the universe giving context to Sunday entrepreneurialism. The deepest shadows my eyes have seen.

So I race the quarter mile up the hill, grab the camera, and head back. Nope. That antiquarian moon was just on the way to setting when I saw it. While I ran to document it, down it went, probably now teasing the people of Los Angeles with its milky truth -- or buried in cloud, or glowing in disinterested isolation above the Pacific.

But I saw those shadows. I tried to bring them back for you. I failed.