SPOOFE (jmspoofe) wrote,


South on Sepulveda, for a long long time. Made a detour onto Palos Verdes drive. Dicked around a bit, lost in the dark, high beams worked wonders. Drugs barely kicking in. Charles is restless, but when isn't he? We find a turn-off, sit for a few minutes and take some pictures. Back on the road. Devour a few more of the blasted things.

We stumble upon dragons. An entire land full of them, far to the South. As far as the eye can see is a tragic wasteland belching smoke and flame, spawning wing'd terrors to invade and slay. We press forward, risking our lives. We cross the grand bridge.

San Pedro. Streets have peoples' first names. Uncreative, except for us. We sing, and drive, and drive, and sing. Lost. Winding road. Glimpses of some city-esque land.

Cirlces. Ever circles. Back in Palos Verdes. Onto Vermont Avenue, North. Ever North. Inadvertently North (thought I was going more East). Back in LA. Blasted buildings. Pathetic urban landscape.


Past the labrynth. Free. Suddenly, it's all gone. Empty. Our hearts and bellies rejoice. Stars painful. The moon smiles. Chino Hills. Almost drive into a State Penitentiary. "Mows his lawn on John..." More circles. Back at the Pen. ".. Beats his slave on Dave."

I go the other way for a change.

Back around, longways. Unfortunately-ways. Think I spot the desert, and freedom. Snatched away. Pulled back towards the Universe. This place didn't look as cool close-up as it did from the sidewalk.

Freeway back home. Kinda guess our way back. The 71 to the 60 to the 101, I think? Traffic. These fools should all swallow their arsenic pills, if they even know what it is. Charles is out like a light. My attorney and I: Hangin' in there.

Ditch Charles. Get cheap fattening food. Claw our way the last few steps. Sun's out. Colors are too weird at 8:15 AM. Haul carcass up stairs, into bed.

Log onto Myspace. Hang head in shame.

Write deliriously.

Pass out deliciously.
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