Long boring story. No - really.

I had to be somewhere reeeellly early this morning. It was so early that when I hit the boulevard the moon in its fullness was still suspended over the buildings of the Wilshire Corridor. The air was refreshing and helped wake me up a bit. Even if I had slept normally I’d be groggy at this hour. But no, I’d slogged it out with Morpheus since roughly half-past two o’clunk this morning, and thus was in dire need of refreshment.

Because I was so groggy I guess, or maybe because the moon was full and still up, I decided to take a different route to my destination. Maybe also I didn’t want to drive past work more times than necessary per day. I took a street I thought was the right one and proceeded to miss my turn.

There are parts of this city that are designed to lose you. It’s no help either that the founders or whomever ran out of street names at some point in the process and started to recycle them. Beverly, for instance. Beverly Glen, Beverly, Beverly Green. Does Beverwil count? Also, there’s a Spalding and a Spaulding. La Jolla disappears at one point and picks up again about a mile to the northeast. There’s a 7th Street downtown, but somewhere on the way out west it gets confused with Wilshire. (Wait, where am I? I forgot where this was going).

I ended up getting lost in Beverlywood which - and you may not know this - constitutes its own little incorporated community within western Los Angeles. Its founders obviously meant it to be a labyrinth, since none of its streets follows a straight path. While completely charming in normal circumstances, this design choice made it hard to find my way back to any familiar main road (like Beverly) where I hoped to determine just how far off course I’d gone.

Along the way to finding my way out, I remembered how nice it was to be up early and how great it is to get lost in the town you’ve lived in for years. And in the end I wasn’t even late.

Anyway, it’s eight-thirty a.m. and I need a nap.

P.S. I saw a kitty cat that had been hit by a car. I really wish people would not allow their cats to roam the urban lands.

Dog Door to Hell

Returning from the pool last night after dark, I barely escaped the gaping maw of a dog-door to hell: a pothole just the right size for your average Cerberus to wiggle back down the pit to its Dark Master. A split-second reaction saved me. Had I not seen it in time I would have been sent ass-over-helmet into pavement, to say nothing of the damage to my scooter after a mishap like that. And, yes, we have the recent downpours to thank for this street-gap.

Earlier, at sunset, I was stopped at a very long red on Pico. I whiled away the hours by taking in the lovely sky, the first blue in such a long time. The sky was dappled with lovely fluffies picking up the dangling final rays of daylight. I noticed, poised silently above me, a couple of pink-tinged clouds.

They were in the exact shape of two unpeeled, cooked prawns.

damp

make it stop. please.