My head is going in a half dozen different directions today.
I have decided not to fight that trend.
One of my favorite authors ended a book once with 5 pages of text.
Each page was a separate snapshot of an on going situation, 100 words at a time.
Here is my day in clumps of around 100 words:
Wishing for someones death simply because they drive slow in an underground parking garage is both petty and childish.
But there is an almost revelations type aspect to it.
Like a harbinger of the day to come.
But you have to wonder what makes a grown woman, in her 40’s from the looks of it, drive like a teen ager that just got their permit.
Death may be an unjust punishment.
And death by being slowly driven over, slow enough that you hope they drive faster to bring a quicker death type slow.
Or maybe, just maybe, I am over reacting.
People meeting on the corner with their dogs, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the dogs are attempting to mate.
Unless, of course, they both are observant enough to see that both dogs are male.
Its not often you see a gay dog, much less two of them.
Downtown Manhattan Beach has long believed in the “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” method of living, long before it was applied to the gay community.
If these walls could talk…they would say nothing due to a tightly worded non-disclosure document.
The point is that once one of the dogs yelps and shoots sideways, your visit is over.
Perfume was, for all intents and purposes, invented to hide body odor.
In Renaissance France, the nobility stank like shit on a hot day.
The perfume was necessary.
But since then, people wear it, while bathing regular enough not to need it for the original purpose.
Not so the woman in front of me.
Sickly sweet Avon type perfume with the occasional hideous whiff of ass is really turning my stomach in line.
My addiction prevents me from stepping out of line.
Jonesing for my morning caffeine feels like somewhere between needing to go to the bathroom or being unable to go once you get there. Its a low lever background irritation that never really fades, it just pulses and continually reminds you that its there.
Watching a skinny meter maid writing a ticket while the fat owner in coming up the block screaming at him is an awesome thing to see.
Judging from the cut of the suit, Fat Owner is just sick ass rich.
And the S Class that he cannot seem to afford the 75 cents for parking for is another indicator of 1% in the hizzy.
But the meter maid is not even blinking.
He has very clear cut rules of engagement that protect him.
Nothing short of the mayor can shut his little ticket empire down.
Plus, there may be a little 99% retribution going on.
Because, judging from the payless knock off brogans he has on, he doesn’t belong to Fat Owner’s country club.
I am early for work, unusual for me, I like to roll in right on the hour.
So I stroll down to the parking lot in front, which looks down on the beach.
I have mentioned the ridiculous location of my company’s corporate offices.
The sun is out, and summer is close enough to be warm in the morning.
Surfers are getting their fix on either side of the pier.
The work out people are sweating off their excesses from the past.
Mother’s are walking with their strollers and texting, while talking with everyone else but their kids.
Catalina Island is visible thru the morning haze.
I love this place.
This is a place worth fighting for.
The Egyptians had a little revolution awhile back, and they won.
But, in the morning, they still live in a crappy desert.
Argue that one all you like, I am not budging.
This is the garden of eden by comparison.
It was a day with mostly pluses, few minuses and some righteous laughs.