Los Angeles is indecisive. Summer is impatient but spring doesn’t want to give up control and reminds us with light rain and cloud. Downtown scrapers behind the veil. Traffic on high. A mobile phone gives the driver voice commands, but what good does it do when your speed is 4mph? Top down, hat on backwards, gangsta rap blasting at 7:52AM. 110 North.
Two choppers hover over a bad spot east of the freeway, nose cameras searching for evil bits of flesh and steel. A third races in from the north, the network logo just detectable. Good marketing when you use mayhem to pad the ratings. Can’t believe I’m here again. Frankly, depressing. This isn’t my home. Not again. Never. To live and die in LA. Not sure which I would choose.
Medulla oblongata pain. Blazing. It happens when the ingredients are right. Like when I get to live the same day twice. It’s the kind of pain that gets my full attention. I’m not human at these times, not a good human anyway. Closed off. Processing the past, pondering the now and finding a reason to panic about the future. A wish to disappear. Not forever. Just for now. A restart.
Tomorrow all will be fine. Advil. Tacos, rice, beans, pico. Just the essentials.