A re-introduction of my not-so-famous Moments In Time series! This should segue well into my new upcoming blog which no one shall know of.
Orange-ya glad you read?
A footstep in the grave moment in time, aka, Imminent Demise
April 30, 2014, approx 1330.
Simmering, near boiling, why must April…be this
Out at lunch for about 10 mins/day (and if you want to catch a glimpse of this pathetic blogger, try walking Hollywood Boulevard sometime) and watching, tourists in chopped vans and bad tans (rhyme!) acting like Hollywood is the next greatest thing since sliced penis.
Tourists parade, some hot, exotic chicks looking so un-LA cause they are pale and (skinny) oy, Hollywood.
I find a concrete soiled shitted puked boogered embankment no one civilized sits here because to do so means you must launder your clothes right away but I don’t seem to care about such things,
So I SIT and eat an apple, do so every day with autistic alacrity, but I’m not, just weird, introverted and misanthropic.
My apple is my friend at lunch. Dependable crunchy.
I see you, goddamned like 500 miles away but the street is bustling with clean tourists and hipster natives, but you. You, fucking YOU.
You can’t even walk straight or dignified, you and your skeletal holocaust frame you goddamn you, i would think you might be a 1939 kike but no, you’re just a stinky filthy white homeless dude and of course, you walk from 500 miles away and you sit right the fuck next to me and my apple.
WITF? (what in the fuck).
I am a homeless dejected magnet, always have been. There is a sorrow writ upon my eyelids. the forlorn and soon-to-die seek me out and once found, they clamor
to my apple-eating spot in the shade on a 90-degree day in this beautiful city of the left angles.
He asks me if I know how to get to 3rd and Mariposa.
Well. I think through the miserable rotted fumes of his hairy breath.
the dude is hairy
Hair in his snotty booger-ridden nose.
When he speaks, his life-force dwindles and I can smell its decay.
He is skinnyskinnyskinny and he lurches when he walks and now he sitting by me, jeans, some weird tribal-clothing I can’t remember now because I’d rather not and he just breathes and smells like the earth’s last days.
Everything about him is…decay.
and Imminent Demise.
this is my new afternoon lunch friend, Imminent Demise, and now he is talking to me and asking how to get to a corner in Los Angeles and I try to explain but his yellow teeth barricade decent and clear convo.
he talks about stuff I have no clue what he is trying to say, but he tells me he needs to get to 3rd and Mariposa and I tell him the bus going down La Brea, southbound (and I expect a man of this condition to care about magnetic directions) and it will take him there like the magical wonderland he seeks and he beams and wonders how he will get to the other side of the street because he just had foot surgery,
and of course, i must peek
Oh mother of god.
i felt nausea creep.
his toes, the nails, cliffs of constantly regenerating rot, those toes, those feet, could kill one upon a sniff, I Swear to My most horrific god. Not even our new pope would kiss dat shit.
Imminent Demise gets up and walks away, looking for the bus, never says thank you, but his rot stumbles away.
He will die tomorrow in this heat and I will never hear of him again.