Los Angeles based artist David Choe has been making headlines for a seemingly trivial event that occurred in 2005. That year, Facebook (known as TheFacebook back then) invited Choe to its offices for a job. It was simple: put up a few masterpieces (and he did) and get paid. At the time, Facebook president Sean Parker — most notoriously known because of Napster and famously portrayed by Justin Timberlake in The Social Network – left it up to Choe to either take cash money then and there, or go home with company stock. Choe took the stock and went on his way.

Now those shares could potentially be worth $200 million (inflated much?) — the number every media outlet wants to hype, and is potentially more exaggeration than anything. But, nonetheless, he’s certain to become a multimillionaire once FB goes public.

The real story is the backdrop of America right now. Income inequality. Unemployment. Access to education. 46.2 million Americans living in poverty. There’s no doubt that David Choe has earned every penny from that stock because, frankly, he made a ridiculously brilliant business decision when I know most of us, including myself, would have taken a check, probably paid off student loans, put a down payment on a house in San Fernando, Ca and purchased a 2005 Toyota Tacoma (best truck of 2005!).

I’ve only been in San Francisco for a little under a year but have already been struck by the parlance of the young entrepreneurs in this town. It’s like there’s a secret password I’ve yet to crack in northern california that, if found, will lead me to a secret hub where investors will put me in one of those hurricane chambers full of $100 bills and say “go!” until I grab 10,000 of them. Basically, it’s like people are making it rain up in here! And it’s not a bad thing. Entrepreneurs are the spirit of this nation. But I can understand if some people might feel the slightest tinge of envy. After 2008, who can blame them?

The photo above was taken from an interview today to be aired Thursday between Barbara Walters and Choe. Dude looks super happy. But we would be, too. So, you know, who can blame him?

Upper Playground, the San Francisco based street art brand, has some exclusive photos.

photo via BW facebook

There is only one true way to get to know any major city in the world: You walk the streets until your ankles begin wheezing, aching, telling you with vigor and frustration that you’ve probably gone too far, too fast.

But there are few things in life, for me, that provide satisfaction like the pounding of steps on soiled and stained pavement, blissfully turning corners to see aged facades and signs, and breathing in the breath left behind by countless wanderers and dreamers on any given day.

I treat streets the same way I treat anything else: I inspect, poke, prod, intrude, scrutinize, gawk, and steal, with the flick of an index finger, the lasting memory I feel is worth keeping. The four months since I’ve moved to San Francisco have mainly consisted of train commutes to and from Oakland. My life is a box car and an office for a majority of the week. So the 70 degree weather I woke up to yesterday before my shift at the museum meant a 2.1 mile walk from Duboce to 2nd St was a calling… and manadatory.

When the sun invites you play in this city, you never say no.

Finally, the weekend office.

Josh warms up for an evening in Austin, TX.

It’s hard to have NorCal love coming from SoCal living. But the city’s colorful secrets make me wonder if there’s a possibility of living here in the near future.

Arts District Los Angeles, formerly known as the Warehouse District, reminds me of an underdeveloped DUMBO. Unused rail lines lead to fences. Buildings are covered in well-known stencil art. The sidewalks are mangled by the remnants of construction work either left unfinished or postponed. There’s even a nice view of Downtown from the area. Anna and I walked over to The Novel Cafe to scout the neighborhood’s vibe because we’re hunting for a new, semi-permanent home (Everything in your late-20′s to early-30′s is semi-permanent). She’s also not native to Los Angeles and we’re trying to visit as much of LA before jobs take over our time. I could photograph the streets of LA all day every day. In fact, I could photograph anything, anytime all day every day. This neighborhood makes me think, “Why not?”

By normal standards of street beauty, Juan de la Barrera would be considered extraordinary. Arching branches cover the sidewalks overhead with intense green foliage. The houses are weathered with character. Its birds can be heard chirping because silence isn’t unordinary. It feels like a neighborhood in a giant city.

Five minutes into my stroll and I came across an open lot. A wooden fence kept curious eyes away from whatever was being unearthed. But above the mangled concrete, the piles of dirt and the trash was an assortment of colors, text, swirls, and images. The neighborhood artists had found a giant canvas to play on. And what I am positive is an eyesore for some, is comfort and familiarity for me.

Conejoblanco was empty. I had the entire store to photograph without anyone interrupting me. The hardwood cracked, my shutter echoed, but no one came up. I went from room to room until I got to the bathroom. There were books everywhere. In the sink. In the tub. On the toilet. I reached over for Peter Kuper’s “Diarios De Oaxaca.” The sketches were riddled with images of Mixtecos and soldiers. Finally I heard a voice. A customer walked in asking for a collection of someone for someone. I put the book down. My private time was over.

It sits there day and night, always in the same place as the day before. The rains come and give it a rinse, and then it’s left alone.

We arrived five minutes late. After security questioned each other about letting us in, an older man gave the approving nod and we were ushered down a spiral staircase into a pitch black theater. I could see a women dressed as a panda, another man in Geisha garb and another man – short, shifty-eyed and looking like a martial arts metal-head (above) – playing out a scene.

This was the ensemble for El Extraño Caso De Tai Chi y Te Chai. It’s a satiric play based on a true story about two men in China who stole from a bank to buy lottery tickets. They intended to win – of course – and become millionaires. Once they recovered their millions, they were intent on giving back the money and keeping the profits. Unfortunately, hubris, ignorance and a huge fit of bad luck ruined their plan. The play closes out its five-month stint at Foro La Gruta next Thursday night at 8:30pm…sharp.

The finish line is Mexico City and I’m three days away.