Weary of the inhuman torture of life in the box, day after day, shut up with no air conditioner and a single window I dastn’t open because of the smoky particulates in the breeze; and with the inescapable racket of hectoring voices from the TV, uneducated cable pundits braying into the cheap microphones of their home computers from the echoey boxes of their soulless living rooms, amplified by the TV studio, then amplified again by the local affiliate to please the sponsors, then turned up again to max on the home TV for the deaf of Siberia to enjoy from 7 am until past dark; I finally got up the energy to maybe try to go for a little drive to Van Nuys, maybe get a slice of pizza, maybe find a shady tree, and a shop that sells better earplugs.
So, only a few blocks out of Valley Village, I start to hear sirens, sirens, sirens. A couple of times in a few blocks, we all pulled over, then drove on. Then more sirens, black-and-whites coming from the other way. We all pulled over, drove on. Then the cops in both directions burn U-turns and go back the other way; now in all four directions, square dancing in the intersection with sirens blazing and cherries spinning. I recognize it as a tactic, but don’t know what it means; until, in the course of things, I realize I am stuck in the ice-jam of the intersection, in the middle, in the front, next to go, when the cops before me threw open their doors and assumed the position, with long black rifles cocked at their shoulders, aimed at a mini-market on the corner, which I thought might be a good place to look for earplugs. I don’t know how I got these pictures, or got out of the intersection, or got home to catch my breath in this foul airless unlivable box, where I intend to sit in my underwear and drink and smoke weed till sunset or Doom, whichever comes first. Sorry folks, life fucking sucks and society is a poor bet and men are pigs and crime sucks and cops suck and we should all have stayed in the damn trees. Remember trees?
The Valley Village View 