Published by Tamara on 31 May 2007
I think I’m fighting a cold, or a small depression, or I’m just a big pussy who didn’t get a weekend of solitude last weekend to re-charge the sane battery. When the sane battery doesn’t get recharged the crazy battery goes into over drive and bad things happen.
I haven’t felt like writing anything the past couple of days because it felt like I was walking through my life in slow motion. I hate that. The clock is stuck at 1:32pm and the drive home feels like it takes a decade. It’s the summer time. When I was a kid it was glorious to have an hour long drive to look forward to, that meant an hour in the car reading with no one touching me, no one telling me to clean my room, no TV to taunt me with fuzzy reception and Matlock re-runs. I do something kind of dangerous now when I drive home to recreate that childhood feeling. I read. I only do it in super heavy traffic where we’re not moving and I’m stuck at a stop light for three cycles. I am aware that it’s a bad idea. I don’t care. My commute is sucking the life out of me.
At 3:45am we were awakened by the craziest coyote in all of Los Feliz. It was right in front of our building rabble raising. If you’ve ever heard a real coyote yipping and howling and half-barking you’ll know how disturbing it sounds. Not a single dog in our barky-dog neighborhood took the bait, so I’m guessing they either don’t understand coyote, or are so far above it they cared not to respond. It went on for so long that Louie had to go out and chase the rat bastard away. I swear to Jesus, there is nothing weirder than living in a fully urban area having coyotes baying on your front yard.
Lula says, “I not speak coyote.”