So wow:
God, this was a great time to return to Los Angeles. I get in, it's 80 degrees and the sun's going down, it's dry and exciting. It feels like something's going to happen. Something exciting. It's Santa Ana weather, and earthquake weather, and beach weather, and hiking in the Hollywood Hills weather. I drove up to the Observatory tonight at sunset, and looked at the view--you could see the whole ocean, it was so clear, and the sound was really crisp--the car tires made a ripping sound on the gravel. I stood looking out at half of L.A., from Agoura to Compton, and in the air just in front of me a bunch of crazy bats did somersaults with no sound.
God makes most of the beautiful stuff, but L.A. is beautiful and we made it.
This is where I belong.
I mean, God made it too, since we're God.
But that's a whole other topic.
Now, here's the really weird thing: I have been getting all these "Top Secret" mystery emails about money and investments from some businessman in Angola or something. Is anybody else getting this stuff? It's bizarre. Anyway, so today I receive an email from, supposedly, the widow of late Angolan dissident Jonas Savimbi, asking me to help her as she tries to invest her inheritance and flee the country. I did a Google search and in two seconds found similar letters appearing on guestbooks and random places--one from "Mrs. Anastasia Kabo Savimbi" in Johannesburg, one from "Mrs. Gloria Savimbi" in the Ivory Coast, one from "Mrs. Nobi Savimbi" in Angola.
Either this Savimbi dude got around, or someone is very stupid and thinks they're going to actually get away with whatever nonsense they're trying to perpetrate.
Shame on you, assholes
-------Much Later-------
My neighbor-girls were outside drinking and smoking so i pulled my new bottle of Becherovka out of the freezer and headed downstairs to the courtyard. I'm drunk now.
The palm tree in the middle of the courtyard was swaying and rustling under the moon, and when the moon hit the leaves they glistened like stars.
Michelle said, I like to just stand and stare at that palm tree, and listen to it.
The wind is hot and the air is dry and the stars are sharp. I said, and then Marcy said, and then this other girl said, Earthquake weather.
An earthquake would be good, but only a small one.
Maybe that's the exciting thing that's going to happen.
It is also sex weather. Maybe I should do something about that.
Sex and an earthquake would be OK, too.
Love,
kate
God, this was a great time to return to Los Angeles. I get in, it's 80 degrees and the sun's going down, it's dry and exciting. It feels like something's going to happen. Something exciting. It's Santa Ana weather, and earthquake weather, and beach weather, and hiking in the Hollywood Hills weather. I drove up to the Observatory tonight at sunset, and looked at the view--you could see the whole ocean, it was so clear, and the sound was really crisp--the car tires made a ripping sound on the gravel. I stood looking out at half of L.A., from Agoura to Compton, and in the air just in front of me a bunch of crazy bats did somersaults with no sound.
God makes most of the beautiful stuff, but L.A. is beautiful and we made it.
This is where I belong.
I mean, God made it too, since we're God.
But that's a whole other topic.
Now, here's the really weird thing: I have been getting all these "Top Secret" mystery emails about money and investments from some businessman in Angola or something. Is anybody else getting this stuff? It's bizarre. Anyway, so today I receive an email from, supposedly, the widow of late Angolan dissident Jonas Savimbi, asking me to help her as she tries to invest her inheritance and flee the country. I did a Google search and in two seconds found similar letters appearing on guestbooks and random places--one from "Mrs. Anastasia Kabo Savimbi" in Johannesburg, one from "Mrs. Gloria Savimbi" in the Ivory Coast, one from "Mrs. Nobi Savimbi" in Angola.
Either this Savimbi dude got around, or someone is very stupid and thinks they're going to actually get away with whatever nonsense they're trying to perpetrate.
Shame on you, assholes
-------Much Later-------
My neighbor-girls were outside drinking and smoking so i pulled my new bottle of Becherovka out of the freezer and headed downstairs to the courtyard. I'm drunk now.
The palm tree in the middle of the courtyard was swaying and rustling under the moon, and when the moon hit the leaves they glistened like stars.
Michelle said, I like to just stand and stare at that palm tree, and listen to it.
The wind is hot and the air is dry and the stars are sharp. I said, and then Marcy said, and then this other girl said, Earthquake weather.
An earthquake would be good, but only a small one.
Maybe that's the exciting thing that's going to happen.
It is also sex weather. Maybe I should do something about that.
Sex and an earthquake would be OK, too.
Love,
kate
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