There’s no wind in the alley between my building and the next one over.  I can flick a butt and hit it.

It sails downward but sparks against the brick on the other side.

The least I can do.

I wish I could spit that far.  With volume and velocity befitting a camel.

I’m on the ninth floor.

I’m sick of the view.

I walked it the other night and it was insane.  So many flower vendors just southeast of here with funeral wreaths out front so I wondered about the amount of death.  I passed a few shelters with men my age smoking cigarettes.  That was odd.  You see more people smoking in public downtown LA than any other place I’ve ever been.  I read a book once I liked  called “Everybody Smokes In Hell”.  I was looking for a bottle of gin.  The crappiest liquor store I’ve ever been in just south of 8th on San Pedro.  No credit cards, cash only.  An elaborately worn ATM.  I didn’t buy the hooker on a bike who offered to suck my paste despite her nice big ass.  I wanted to get home for the state of the union speech.  Pink, blue and golden twilight.

Downtown LA is weird about hooch.  It’s either behind the counter or locked behind glass requiring the assistance of a salesperson with a key.  I ended up with some Seagrams.  It’s over flavored like a diet soda in a creepy urine hued, mottled bottle.  I like Bombay Sapphire or Tanqueray but I’m not affording that these days.

Sometimes, I hate everything.

“…..There’s nothing on earth that can’t be improved by adding either Jesus or Bacon……Sarah Palin knows fewer words than Koko the gorilla” -Bill Maher

I’m broke but today I treated myself to a tuna melt on rye and an iced tea at this little diner on my block.  I splat a pool of ketchup on the plate for dipping.  There’s just no denying the excellence of ketchup as a sauce.  Catsup; which spelling do you prefer?   I really enjoy eating out.  I’ve found that a sandwich is almost always better if someone else makes it for you.  I’m pretty good about making sure I have something to read.  I carry a book and or magazines in my briefcase sometimes for months.  They’re like unopened presents until I’ve read them cover to cover.

I like how crime fighters on TV can commandeer cars from innocent citizens.  They used to do that a lot more, at least on TV.  Events always seem to climax in cemeteries, shopping malls, churches or banks.  People diving for cover as the chase commences and opposing forces brandish and discharge weapons.  Television would have us know that all cops and criminals are in Olympic shape but can’t shoot worth shit.

I like A1 Sauce on fries and eggs with feta, cherry tomatoes and green onions.

Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can be interested in life when life doesn’t seem to be interested in me.

What scares me the most these days is revision of history.  From the word nigger being removed from one of our most famous of tomes to the Bachmann  full up past the calf planting a foot fat pump in a runny shit deal.  Sheezus.  She tried to sell that the founding fathers eliminated slavery.  While she stared hard at the wrong camera.  Pukes of plenty going straight after history.  I know it’s old news at this point but don’t let it get lost on you, this woman is an idiot.  I think Meghan McCain called her something like the poor man’s Sarah Palin last week.

I love these bitches of the right but they make me sad for women in general.  What I’m trying to say is that I adore women but loath these two in particular…..but I love them for the comedic fodder they unwittingly supply.  Because they are stupid.  I love these two because they keep proving just how goddamn dumb they are but one quarter of the people still adore them no matter what.  I love them in the most cynical of ways because they are so inexcusably dumb.  I love the people that love them because they are no different and that’s why they are there.

My love is conditional.  Stupid is as stupid does or I won’t love either of them anymore.  I want them to remain dipshit, deer in the headlights, clueless.

Drinks for my friends.

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