To Live and Fry in L.A.

I’m in Torrance CA. Been here for a month now in a friend’s house, and can see no end in sight.

The heat is crazy. You can fry an egg on my face. There’s enough oil there for fried rice too, if you feel like it. Last night, I sat up in the dark room facing the road and listened to the cars whizz by with their booming bass speakers. Until there were no cars left. I couldn’t sleep.

This place is still a mystery to me. Unlike San Francisco where the buses run all day and the BART system takes you across islands, this place requires you to have a car at your disposal. Until you do, you’re stuck taking buses that take ages to pick you up and ages to arrive. So I still haven’t explored this side of California. And I should. Because this will soon be home.

But the heat can kill you… that is, if the Inglewood cops don’t get you first.



Speak, thy writer is listening.

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