August 9, 2009
-
How does anyone live alone?
Sunday afternoon in my 12×10 bedroom that costs more than a three bedroom house in Las Vegas. LA, how I loathe you and your promises of sunshine and bliss. Why do I only see the small bars on my window and only feel the smothering heat. The creativity lost to the emptiness of no one to share it with. There are the nightly adventures wrapped in denial and alcohol that leave me feeling guilty at night and disappointed in the morning. There is no other way but to repeat the cycle, replete with financial overextension. Let me indulge in the fleeting satisfaction of the other sex and sex. I am a facade of non-narcissistic kisses. Everything is a punch line; the sound of cymbals distracting you from ever really searching in my eyes. They are only reflections of your brightness and I’m sorry to pretend but there is nothing behind these mirrors. Being alone in LA has become the pretension of success, confidence, and independence. Don’t leave me in my crass vulgarity. This laughter is a call for help.
