A week ago I took a night flight into LA to stay, the plane descending into a heatwave that had me peeling off my leggings in the car on the way to somebody’s spare room.
The apartment I’m typing this in is enormous and the LA river is even bigger than it looks in Drive when you wander around underneath an enormous macular moon.
I forgot about the way all the coffee shops downtown are crowded like bomb shelters in a crisis and all the retail signs everywhere are totally insane and it seems like I’ve spent half my life already in a friend’s car careening through freeway veins and the slower streets that always seem to pump faster.
Last night I went to a bar in Chinatown that was swimming in neon hair and moody red light and girls in black chokers and an internet-infamous girl I argued with once on twitter, who was very nice; today I found an image of my hot friends & my bad posture & my chipped pink nails clutching my tacky white phone case on Cobrasnake.
The city gets bigger every time I step outside, all these Matryoshka-like lives displayed side by side in endless sequence, entire bleached worlds unfolding simultaneous and oblivious for as far as wheels can spin, for as long as you can stand sitting in traffic.
There’s a slightly macerating quality to the sunshine here set against such a flippantly blue sky.
Everyone I know complains about the featureless weather — death, taxes, UV rays — while I think: dissolve me, I don’t mind.
No hope and not much pity, just the small teeth bared, the desire to get it all, to set it somehow down.
a lot of guys are scared of serious topics. such as me wanting to die all the time. that is why i like to tell them, because i like the fear
updating my tumblr @ 2:54 am to announce that this is definitely my favorite 1997 synthpop song about heaven