Alcohol School
One solitary defiant tree stood up out of the flood plain, the strenght and depth of her roots holding the ground around her together like a widowed mother might her family.
It's about loss of innocence, of course, and temptation, and the consequences of not being able to honor thy mother and father, which is to be abandoned to a world of indifferent good and evil.
Wed. Aug. 28
Looking east ou the 3rd story window of this builiding on Franklin and Highland where my fucking alcohol school is. You can see the observatory between a eucalyptus and an old 30's apartment building. Below is an old concrete tennis court, fallen into disrepair, weeds growing high from many cracks. When I used to only drive by this street it looked like a place where junkies shoot up, but the buildings have all been freshly painted, innocence seems to have been restored. I had to get here early to meet with Ray the instructor for a midterm interview. I want to tell him how fucked up all this shit is. I want to scrape him with my words. I want to puke on the MADD mothers and run my car through the living room of the judge and carry a handgun for the next piece of shit who lights up a red and blue light in my rearview mirror.
Writing this on the window sill; the breeze is cool; the pigeons do not give a fuck about a decoy owl; they shit on its head and preen.
It's about loss of innocence, of course, and temptation, and the consequences of not being able to honor thy mother and father, which is to be abandoned to a world of indifferent good and evil.
Wed. Aug. 28
Looking east ou the 3rd story window of this builiding on Franklin and Highland where my fucking alcohol school is. You can see the observatory between a eucalyptus and an old 30's apartment building. Below is an old concrete tennis court, fallen into disrepair, weeds growing high from many cracks. When I used to only drive by this street it looked like a place where junkies shoot up, but the buildings have all been freshly painted, innocence seems to have been restored. I had to get here early to meet with Ray the instructor for a midterm interview. I want to tell him how fucked up all this shit is. I want to scrape him with my words. I want to puke on the MADD mothers and run my car through the living room of the judge and carry a handgun for the next piece of shit who lights up a red and blue light in my rearview mirror.
Writing this on the window sill; the breeze is cool; the pigeons do not give a fuck about a decoy owl; they shit on its head and preen.
posted by johnz at 5:54 PM
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