Saturday

Things are bleak here in the city of Angels. Everywhere you look, you can see the visible signs of poverty and destitution; homeless people defecating on public property, drug dealers and dope fiends in local parks, and no one adhering to posted traffic laws–it’s anarchy and mayhem. One must navigate carefully, because if not you risk the danger of being a con artist’s mark or worse. Drugs and alcohol are almost required in order to blend in, along with a certain appearance of infirmity, this keeps the vultures off your back. So, I buy a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes and commence to walk the streets in an intentional stupor, fueling myself with drugs and alcohol to keep myself from looking like a healthy victim.

Yes, it’s a blazing hot day again here in Los Angeles, but if you’re not getting accosted by criminals in the streets, then you’re fair game for the religious cults’ propaganda and their false doctrine. Too bad if you’re not one of the 144,000, but you can find your way in if you knock on a few doors each week and try to convert the newbie marks.

I’m waking up now, coming to life from a dream and entering into a much more nightmarish reality, but it’s a reality I can and have learned to live with. There is a certain kind of beauty in the madness, and it’s something that I embrace, because it’s the only way I can survive. I deal with the darkness by converting it into light, and soon enough I’m playing my part in the grand scheme of things, and that’s how I live and survive in this cutthroat city.

Yes, it’s a typical Saturday in Los Angeles and I have to admit, even though I find it ordinary, I live and move and breathe in this nightmarish reality. Hobbling through, I use the same precautions as the day before and unfortunately will again tomorrow. It’s a dangerous and unpredictable existence, but it’s the one I call home.