I have ill will towards Los Angeles. I went there once when I was twelve and I hated it, but at that age I also hated my mother, eggs, and walking. I’ve learned to appreciate all of the above, so maybe I’ll have an LA about-face in the next few days.
Or maybe I’m so loyal to San Francisco that I refuse to clear out even a tiny nook of my heart for another city.
I spent the past hour in Golden Gate Park with a log tucked under my neck like some kind of feral geisha. A few pigeons and one homeless amputee veteran wheeled around my body while I lay listening to the brute grunting of tennis players on a nearby court and waited for the fog to come down. Once the wind picked up I started to walk home but got sidetracked when I ran into someone I used to work with because this is a small town disguised as a metropolis. I love it here. I’m bordering on effusive. Must stop now.
Los Angeles, I’m yours, but only for the next five days.