Hey hey! So I got a new bike! Beautiful, clean lines, single gear because I bought it from a mad bicycle purist, at least he believed in brakes because not all of them do. I can lift it over my head with one hand. It’s a beaten up turquoise kind of colour, it flies down the street almost by itself and rides like freedom. It’s thin tires are just a bit skittish over the bumps and cracks and potholes of LA’s mockery of pavement.
But oh the pain it has brought to my tender ass…
Impossibly heart-breakingly achingly sad…sadness sits as pain in my stomach and behind my eyes. I hate viewings and funerals and guns. I hate for the people I love to suffer like this, what do you say to someone who has lost their son? Think i might cry after all, embarassing thing to happen at work.
In the desert when I was little I used to watch the sunset every night, watched the light dancing through creasote and across rock, the orange sun sink down red behind the mountains, the sky would turn blue and pink like the inside of a shell, the stars would come out one by one to burn so close to my face I could almost reach up and take them with my fingers. You are always something bigger and greater and wiser than yourself when standing before them…head thrown back, proud, alive.
You can’t see them in LA, they’re something I imagined. Like I imagined peace and quiet and content. Is there a world without helicopters and sirens and violence and poverty and addiction and pain? Sometimes it seems that everyone is broken, carrying shards of themselves about in their hands, razor edges that cut others, constant collisions of broken glass. Joel Zuniga shot in the head on a Sunday morning Compton Street.
Tomorrow I might return from the darkside.