(no subject)
so i guess it was about two weeks ago when thomas and i woke up in west los angeles. the sun was slowly rising as the frying pan burned and the coffee pot dripped. he drove us to hollywood where we walked around aimlessly with one eye on the minute hand. we reached a church that sported a "free coffee" sign on its rod iron fence. we sat and i smoked a cigarette.
Got to the bus station. shook his hand. the bus drove north on highway 101 following the pacific ocean over cliffs and through arid valleys. those five hours, as i watched the western warmth through my tinted window, i reacquanted myself with that feeling of "now what" that i havent been able to drop as of yet.
five days ago i started working fulltime at Big Sky Cafe. i am a line cook. i get two cigarette breaks and a free meal every shift. i sleep in a bathroom on the second story of a hostel in a nowhere town of central california. at about seven every morning i am woken by the light bulb turned on by some new face that will be gone again by ten am only looking for a warm shower.
susanna is a girl. she is on her way to southern arizona to grow stuff. she thinks that candied oranges taste like those spoonfulls of medicine that noone likes. she sits outside beneath the orange tree when the sun is at its peak, her book cradled in her crossed legs. sometimes we talk about why it doesnt want to make sense to us. mostly she just laughs and gets surprised by bugs on dandelions.
there is an outdoor staircase to my bath/bedroom. at night i take the guitar and sit on the top step and roll a buglar while the stars shine brightly. sometimes i can see my breath in the cold. and sometimes i cant hear the distant sounds of midnight traffic.
Got to the bus station. shook his hand. the bus drove north on highway 101 following the pacific ocean over cliffs and through arid valleys. those five hours, as i watched the western warmth through my tinted window, i reacquanted myself with that feeling of "now what" that i havent been able to drop as of yet.
five days ago i started working fulltime at Big Sky Cafe. i am a line cook. i get two cigarette breaks and a free meal every shift. i sleep in a bathroom on the second story of a hostel in a nowhere town of central california. at about seven every morning i am woken by the light bulb turned on by some new face that will be gone again by ten am only looking for a warm shower.
susanna is a girl. she is on her way to southern arizona to grow stuff. she thinks that candied oranges taste like those spoonfulls of medicine that noone likes. she sits outside beneath the orange tree when the sun is at its peak, her book cradled in her crossed legs. sometimes we talk about why it doesnt want to make sense to us. mostly she just laughs and gets surprised by bugs on dandelions.
there is an outdoor staircase to my bath/bedroom. at night i take the guitar and sit on the top step and roll a buglar while the stars shine brightly. sometimes i can see my breath in the cold. and sometimes i cant hear the distant sounds of midnight traffic.