My apartment is under construction…
They’re pulling down the walls, re plastering the stairs, stripping and re-painting. Even when I worked, I still worked at home during the day, so the half dozen or so trabajadores and I have become quite close. They’re usually my alarm in the morning and during the day. Our relationships consist of my running through the courtyard, hands over my head, trying to shield myself from falling debris. They laugh. Of course, in Spanish, they laugh Ja, Ja, Ja, Ja. Everyone knows this.
But it’s still a pretty big mess. When they leave, they do their best to clean up, but there’s always something waiting behind. Like, for instance…rusted nails…all over the place.
And it got me wondering…why I do the things I do. Because there’s no fun in stepping on a rusted nail…or staple…or piece of plaster…or glass…or aluminum barbed wiring. No fun at all. And yet, when I do my laundry…or run to get the mail, I certainly pause to look back at my pile of shoes at the front door. Pumas, Nikes, Diesels, New Balance, Rainbows, Jonnie V’s, Kenny C’s. There’s usually a pair of socks nearby and a set of slippers that date back at least 4 December twenty-fives. So, let’s just say I have my options. Nevertheless, I walk outside my front door, daily…in bare feet. I wish I could tell you I step soft…that I watch carefully where I am going. But then, well…then I’d just be lying. And Santa ain’t making stops at little boys’ houses that tell lies this close to Christmas.
Yes, I still believe in Santa Claus. I’m 24.
I’m not a poorly educated man. I am well aware the dangers of Tetanus. I’ve heard fables of the drooling romanticism in a good case of Lockjaw. I know of the swirling atrocities to my well being that wait outside my courtyard. They see bare feet and get aroused in a way that only rusted nails can. If you’re a rusted nail, there is no greater reward in life than giving someone Tetanus. Everyone knows this as well.
Last night was something. Really, really something. I’m beginning to worry, slightly…about the social choices I tend to make. Last night, I opted to stay in, pen some magic. That’s always the aim going into a session, but it doesn’t always happen. Actually, it rarely happens. But it fucking happened last night. The kind of night where if I trusted you and told you everything, I would blush. I would feel vulnerable.
But anyway…back to my worries.
This town has a wild nightlife, and I had somewhat grown to miss it after spending my last 5 months at The Argyle. The last crazy night I spent out, my friend was “dating Lindsay Lohan.” To anyone who reads tabloid magazines, understand that I put heavy quotes around that for a reason. If you’re ever in a major city, struggling to get into a club…struggling to get a drink…struggling to get a table, try dropping that line. I’m dating Lindsay Lohan. Of course, it helps to have photos and headlines to back you up.
In La La land, drop a line like that and you get magically whisked away. But that’s what makes Los Angeles what it is. And let’s make one thing very clear…that’s not something you stake your pride on. It is what it is.
But I stayed in, opting not to re-live round two of such an adventure. That’s another thing about LA. You get over things real quick. At least this Thundercat seems to.
Motherfuck! I’m not feelin' it.
The problem is…I’m completely content. I’m not pissed off, not wound up, not want to serve roundhouse dick kicks to the unsuspecting public. Do I use that a lot…dick kicks? It just rolls off the tongue.
Hold on I have to run out. Cocktails…
Alright. Three hours later and 10 Jacks deeper, I’m feeling a little bit different. And don’t expect me to rant now. I don’t do that. I’m inspired enough without needing assistance from an outside source.
But I set out to write to something tonight…and have somewhat lost my way. Well, not really. It’s just that I wasn’t planning on a bar hopping-cocktail Sunday.
But do you ever get the feeling…at some point when life feels as if it has hit this stalemate…that something is going to happen. And it’s either going to be great or terrible. I’ve got that right now…and I’ve gotten that before. And what scares me is that it always comes true.
I’m not trying to spice up a post…that’s just what I’m feeling.
When one happens, don’t say I didn’t tell you so…
