I lost control again. For no reason really. I have anger and issues like everyone. I’m full of shit and sweet as cotton candy. I compromise myself to the will of the wind. It pushes me and I lose control.
If ever there was a place for me than perhaps this is it. Los Angeles is an island floating on a sea of hopelessness and breast implants. We are a confused and fucked up bunch, those of us that call the island home. We are the greatest people in the world and every last one of us is an idiot.
I’m drinking a glass of wine that cost more than my shoes and chasing each sip with a handful of Pringles that set me back about a buck for the whole can. I like to even myself out. Tomorrow I’ll go barefoot and drink crappy beer with my prime rib. That’s how we keep it real here in the land of make believe.
It’s all a movie. Sure there are the obvious, the rich and beautiful, but even the ugly and poor are faking it. Gangs shoot babies in Compton because it’s hardcore and everything else they saw on HBO. Girls ride busses from Minnesota just to suck a few dicks before being sent home with their tails between there legs and sores on their lips. It is a melting pot and it boils over.
My issues with control could probably be traced back to my childhood. Perhaps I wasn’t hugged as a kid. Maybe I was hugged too much. Either way it doesn’t matter. My issues could be traced back but I won’t follow them. That whole line of thinking is for the weak and the lost, like all things religion it gives them hope and frees them from taking blame for themselves. They run this damn island.
Unlike most of the other inmates, I moved here against my will. I have never desired to live in L.A., and if not for Disneyland would probably have never visited California at all. Yet, here I am, serving a life term for crimes I’ve yet to commit. There are plenty of others that are here by choice and breaking laws by the second. I play the ying to their yang. I did not vote for them.