The west coast looks like a Lite Brite at night—like one of those things you had as a kid, ya know? But it’s not all spectacular and perfect like it looks on the box, nah. It’s like when you got real fed up with that stupid, clown-face bullshit and just shoved the pegs where you wanted.
It’s abstract—all fucked up ‘n shit.
But somehow it’s still pretty gorgeous.
The thing about California is, everything’s dry out here. The plants aren’t green, and if they are they shed spines and all sorts of spikes and needles and irritations–figures
The people are dry too, but they maintain this ritual of surgical infusion every few months to keep them looking nubile enough to pass for the photos on their fridges and driver’s licenses.
They don’t tell you this but, stay in the sun too long and you’ll burn up like everything else.