there’s no security payment for travel happiness.

Los angeles is like this thick peanut butter spread out on a whole wheat city that growing up in new york
i just can’t fucking relate too. we’re just not used to that much space.

We’re so busy cramming ourselves in studio apartments in overpopulated buildings and wrestling with our neighbors in the streets for the next cab to take us out where we can drink but sometimes i can barely manuever my way through the hoard to reach the bar and the line to walk outside to smoke is twice that of the bathroom.

In New York it’s always rush hour. rushing to our offices and rushing to get back from a thirty minute lunch break. Rushing to transfer just to get back on and then off, again. rushing with some alaphabet and numeric choice, but always going to the same place and at rush hour, always getting there at the same time.

After I gave up on looking for a city in los angeles, I found myself floating in hollywood walking between the cracks of the sidewalk which just felt like a perpetual streetfair bazaar,  like i could walk through the vendors and i wouldn’t have to look both ways before crossing.  It was an unimaginative movie set and all the store front signs were just that with nothing inside. and any second someone would hit a switch and the whole place would just burn under the light bulbs.

I don’t know how anyone feels comfortable in this rotting excuse for a metropolis.