| sincero jamas |
May 7, 2008 |
I've complained constantly about the sun and the smog of this city. The city lights and freeways have become all too familiar. From the beginning of the 10 west freeway on the coast to the changing of the 134 east to the 210 east. I remember the heartbreaks on broadway blvd. and vermont ave. I've cried quietly at familiar corners waiting for the bus, reminiscing on what I once was when I stood here years ago. I've timed my arrivals to the t. I've set my alarm at the exact moment and know when to leave my house a minute wasted is an hour late. I've complained about the way that we're all connected in this city somehow. I've made comments about the coffee shops in ritzy areas and hope that originality will flourish more. Those that are original are set in the back burner, unless they're in the right part of this city. The local record store is a mecca for the hipsters to collect things they know nothing about, just to impress the cashier. The book stores have the same spineless souls that tried to dance with me at clubs, while I stumbled to the bathroom.
On days when the sun doesn't shine on the hidden parts of it, it's a whole different shade.
I don't complain about the same entrances, exits, faces. I see them as a memory I don't want to give up. The woman who sells tamales in the morning, coffee, atol, just for her kids to have food on their plate. The subway at 7 in the morning that has the conductor who yells
nothing but grateful sayings, because after all we should be grateful we are still alive.
While I stick my hand out of the window and the car is going 45 mph, I remember why it isn't so hard to stay here for a little while longer.
This city can be unforgiving and still, I live it. This city can be a cycle, I live it. Los Angeles, for now, I'm yours. |
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| an update a complete two months later |
May 6, 2008 |
Listening to: bjork -
when someone passes away, it's still hard to believe. I suppose I had wrapt myself so deep in her life that when she finally left, I couldn't accept it. I waited for her to make the same sounds in the morning, evening, and night. my foolish heart still believes that she is going to come back.
I've had a great amount of support from everyone and I don't know what I would do with out them.
It's been a whole month since she's passed and I still think about her constantly, I wish she'd come into my dreams more.
I like the anonymity of this site, that no one knows who I am and I like that. I don't have to hide what I really want to say. Sad that people are more forgiving when they have no idea the kind of human you are. |
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