8.18.17

My paradise is Ladyface.

It swallows the sun in the afternoons

and I watch while drinking.

What better joy is there in life?

What more should we ask from the creator

than red sunsets and large mountains and

cold beer.

As long as we’re making suggestions,

let me say:

you fucked up, lord.

Mental illness is pointless.

It is a needless variant of parent-hating.

I wish they did not devolve this quickly,

that I had a few more years,

not with them,

but knowing that I would not

deteriorate as they

deteriorated.

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Written at 9:19 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.