What would Carlos Castenada have to say about this situation, or how would Henry Miller express it to June, or what would be the koan that should be asked at this very instant? Like a flower field, call this number, $ 1 million for life.

This is my life right now: it wasn’t as hot as I thought it would be today; I forgot about the omnipresence of billboards next to burnt, broken palm fronts; Seinfeld is on. My favorite part is when Kramer makes him think that it was his idea and then (always) asks, ‘Well, then what you go and do that for?’

We make our exit, the air crisps up, the train sucks us under, the earthquake rumble under the bed a thing of the past by about 6 hours now, emerge and walk by the freeway, deja vu of a movie partially responsible for said image of the place and subsequent inevitability provided by a landscape bespoken, as they tend to be, by those who croon, ‘too much walking/shoes worn thin’ while waiting to disappear. Time to wait too long

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