List: Leaving LA (Pros)

So, I wanted to tell you about life in LA. I have lived here for years. Couple of different places. Called freeways by their titles...I 10 is "The Ten"...you know. Grin. I know the lingo. Have learned to size up people by their various surgeries. I know six different routes to any given place. I can read any Spanish instructions on buses, in restaurant bathrooms, etc.

Los empleados deben lavarse las manos, putas.

Anyway, my current place is an oasis surrounded by the barrio, bordering both the ghetto and Beverly Hills. This is cool though. I kinda like living like this. LA'd be alright if it weren't for the people. Examples follow:

The other night, on my way home, I saw my first pimp and ho duo on a corner not to far from my home. Yeah, that's right. I mean, I've seen pimps and hos before, but this was like, a legitimate prositute a couple hundred yards from my front door. And it was so classically
slimey -- the guy was even wearing an all-white suit. Yep. The two of them were standing under the street lamp, next to a beat-up, cushionless couch, having a casual conversation while the skeeze that accompanies such degenerates was crawling by in dark sedans and
wooden-panelled minivans. (My, my...don't we sound judgemental?) It was a bit of movie magic...

I shouldn't have been surprised, really. Between my house and the flesh-peddlers (Hellfire! Hellfire, sayth the Lord! Grin.) is this tiny, run-down house. It's faded Easter-egg-blue and every single opening is fortified with chipping metal bars.

I'm sure they make Meth in there.

How do I know? First, the people coming and going are a certain tweaked-out type of miscreant, with those um, fear-the-light eyes and habitual itchy twitches. Now, I know what you're thinking...not really evidence. Did I mention that the one time I peeked into their open (for once, shockingly) garage, on my way from the bus stop, I saw this huge, thick black blanket covering the entire opening? In the slat between the blanket and garage door jamb however, it was all tanks and glass. Not fish tanks, either. I know one day I'll be on the news infront of my flaming complex. That house is going to blow up like my friend's neighbor's house did. I'm sure of it. Fucking tweaks.

And then there is your random lunatic. Like the guy that escapes the old age home a couple blocks away every afternoon. He's this older, Asian gentleman; he's got his shit together, too. He's dressed nicely and pleasant in the face area, but he stands on the side of the street every. single. day. holding up some indiscriminate item to passing traffic. Sometimes it's a newspaper, sometimes it's a little statue, or a Slurpee. I have no fucking idea why he does this. Just holds it up, like a weirdo. I fancy that he used to sell wares at an open air market, or he was part of the Pop Art movement, trying to get us to really see our consumerism for what it is. He's harmless though.

So's the homeless guy who lives at the no parking sign. He's there all the time. Just sort of hanging out. The other homeless guy walks like this eight block route in a circle everyday, over and over. He wears dirty, navy-blue sweats, but always has new shoes, so someone must be taking care of him. He won't ever talk to you either, even if you approach him. And he doesn't wear socks.

Then there are the people that live in my apartment building. Jesus. There's the pony-tailed, hippy trash Nazi from two doors down, the couple next door who are always in Japan, the behemoth downstairs with the prison tats and bullet holes in his shoulder and his insane
girlfriend.

There's the middle-aged Brazilian menage a trois who are always at the pool (the guy loves his Speedos, mind you), the hag down the hall who reeks of alcohol and cat piss, wears wigs, and carves odd messages into the carpet on the elevator walls.

The old man with big ears who wears the short shorts/knee socks combination and grunts if you say hello, and the couple downstairs that keep their cat in a pen on the porch. Can't forget my vato landlord and octogenarian landlady. They're adorable. Hee hee.

Plenty more. Not worth listing. But I have been thinking about leaving LA, lately. It would seem to be a good time, bunnies. Peace.