real depravity has no master plan of any kind, it’s just a dreamy whim that slides out of people when they are trapped or bored or too lazy to analyze their own mania.

i have been waking up early, even on the weekends. the other day i woke up and wanted to be alone, like i used to be in new york. so, i drove downtown to the equinox and lifted heavy things. after 30 minutes, i got bored so i left the gym and started walking towards the library. there’s something unnatural about walking between tall buildings on the weekend, deserted streets, lost tourists, all kinda spooky. anyway, in front of the hilton, i passed a japanese girl dressed in a tight black sheath dress and matching heels, heels so high that she leaned forward in a posture that can only be described as pounce.

which for whatever reason made me think of the young, blond man at the exit of 110 freeway i had seen earlier that morning. he held up a letter-size sign that said, “veteran.” i rolled down my window and so unlike me, handed him $3. when he came up to me, smiling, i saw his meth addled blue rotting teeth and thought, probably not a veteran.

i found a salad shop and ate alone while i eavesdropped on the conversations near me. there’s a woman who goes to sleep at 6 pm and wakes up at 3 am cause after 10 years she’s still on new york time. ha. i read proust who is at all times dull, beautiful and hilarious. when i got out, i rounded the block and ended up at the front of the library. on the corner was an old woman with a high and tight gray ponytail. she was standing stiffly and was very thin, and just by her face, i thought she must be a poet. but i started to look at her more closely, the ass of her pants was worn thin, even browning, her shoes, black tennies were coming apart at the sole and flapping, exposing her pale toes to the winds. and her stare i saw was that of the lost and desperate.

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