Sunday, July 7th, 2019
My morning inspiration: the big black truck waving two giant American flags that pulled into the Denny’s parking lot. How appropriate.
How it ended. Halleluiah Darwin pooed! He’s been constipated for three days. I sang Handel’s Halleluiah chorus in my opera voice out loud as he did it. He’s deaf so he didn’t hear me but felt my enthusiasm.
Almost at the ending before the epiphany came. The homeless guy who was running across 111 like he was a moth swimming up stream all the while talking frantically on a walkie-talkie, while his red tent , which was still inflated, bobbed up and down like a balloon, as he hopped over the fountain of a luxury retirement home, and had me half convinced he was running from someone or something real until I saw him doing a spiral around and orange traffic cone. And then continue running to the back of the building.
Halfway point. The girl at the coffee shop who talks and giggles like smurfette, and looks like her too, with brown hair and freckles, who has been up for 48 hours, and we agreed that Janise Joplin was right, it’s all the same fuckn’ day anyway. She still made latte art, so gorgeous, it looked like a burning bush, I pronounced it so, she posted a picture of it on Instigram (or I’m assuming that’s why she took a pic of it before letting me have it), and she told me not to worry, she was going to go home and take a nap.
The middle and the end of the halfway point: The man who looked like he might be Mr. Right with the two oodles who caught me looking at him, made an immediate about face, walked straight toward me, tied the dogs to a street pole and abandoned them to go inside to buy coffee, while looking at me through dark polarized sunglasses like Arnold in the Terminator. He made me wonder what is it that makes narcissists so hot, when his dogs started yapping like crazy. And the people at the table next to me and I agreed he was a bad dog owner. Which opened up into a conversation about Darwin, and how he was dumped in the desert like so many other dogs. And how that’s not neglect, that’s cruelty. And the dogs started yapping, and I realized I would be tied to a pole next if I didn’t leave before Mr. Wrong got his coffee, so I left.
The epiphany which was the prelude to the end (Darwin’s dump). That’s when I saw the homeless guy, running across the street with his inflatable habitat. Followed immediately as he disappeared into the mist by the Giant black truck with the American flags filling up the space in the air above the flat back waving aggressively. And with menace as the engine roared. That’s when it came to me. The problem with America today is we’re all high on the wrong drugs. These revelations come to me frequently when I’m high on Palm Springs.
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