I have 11minutes and seven seconds to connect with my peeps. This is all I got. No internet. That means I have a dollar a day at the cafemachines. It makes for a nice writing practice. What canI write in, well, 10 minutes. Can I do a comic, an interview, and say something profound. Maybe, a poem. Let's see.
Tonight I fell asleep right after work. Tense day. Power went out over Los Angeles. Streets were filled. Went to the 7 11. They were closing.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Power's out everywhere," the guy behind the counter said. "All the way to Venice."
"That's funny," I say to my WG crew with me. "Theelectric company was supposed to turn on my electricity today."
Apparently, this is funny. Everyone in the Sev cracks up. They make some jokes, but I don't hear them. I'm looking up at the sky - helicoptors andplanes. Cop cars everywhere.
"Looting," one Sev employee says. "We're closing."
Me and the WG Crew (Loggers United, or Lou for short) walk back to Mama's and Papa's pizza place, that runs on gas. I get a tuna fish and fries. Pizza for everyone else. Fitzy gets chickenpar,. I love that he got chicken parm. I would have got chicken parm, if I had thought about it. I didn't though. Just protein.
Were you scared?
P: Yeah, totally. I mean, who expects that kind of thing. A whole city in the dark. It made me think of terrorism. It made me think about what I could write to say goodbye. That was my first thought.
Whatwas your next?
P: Tuna fish. I wanted fries. I wanted tobasco. I thought about all the beautiful women I wouldn't get too meet.
Did you really?
P: Well, I thought about one. Time is short, you know. AnywayI love you guys. Notmuch time left Got to publish.
I stole this image. But here it is.
; > (bird)
;* > (cries)
; > (for itself)
8 (turn this sideways)
A minute here. Okay. Now to say goodbye. Oh, but wait. I am in the new apartment. No furniture. I like it that way. I sleep on the floor. I paint in the big empty living room. I got a refrigertator. My only purchase. $35. Works great. This guy helped me walk it to the apartment ($5). He was real sweet. Told me about his journey to L.A..
It seems no one is from here. They all come through some type of catastrophe, some big dream, a great aching hope that pushes them past rail cars, and Twain's fronteir, to the open-hearted munificene of palm trees and stars. Lots of stars. Blackouts. And time running out. But I'm comfortable. I'm getting cocky. I can do this. I can make it. I have.
I'm alive, folks. This is P to the HY hizzle, signing off in a now electrically restored night. The Sev is back in business. The streets are happy. I think of you all. Here, at the sabe. A cigarette in hand. Thanks for stopping by. I will see you on the flip.
What does the bird think of L.A.?
P: Oh, it likes it. The tears especially. Smiles aren't bad either. I've got him on my shoulder now. Zippedy Doo Da, they say. In my childhood. On the big screen. Out there to you. To this moment. To life. To my last words. Or on going. Going. Peace.
; > -8, turn this sideways! You'll get the bird's first techie smile. Audi
; > )
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