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| Goodbye my beautiful tag. You were like a son, or like a father that doesn't treat me like shit. |
The cities I love:
The Delightful, City of Los Angeles
(And for you idiot gringos, that's the City of Angels)
Los Angeles is like a hot, smoggy, diamond. I'm here visiting for a little while so I can't be repping Seattle as hard as I normally would like to, but man, something about downtown LA really just gets right inside your heart and breaks it into little shards of love.
I was there today and I'm not sure if it's the automatic gunfire ringing out 24/7, the generous supply of heroin, crack, and tranny prostitutes with their chewbaca-synthesizer voices running screaming tearing each others weaves' out from smoking too much good PCP but it's something. Maybe it's seeing the cops beat the fuck out of mexiblacksians for smiling while waving to oncoming white range rovers full of sparkly white families speeding 90 four-wheeling over homeless encampments to get back to Malibu or Bel Air, but this city sure has lots of lovely people, affection, happiness, and handguns.
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| Motherfuckers are BALLSY in LA getting their pieces up, that shit is on the busiest freeway in the fucking world. Respect. |
One thing I'll say though, you just can't find Mexican food like this anywhere else in the world - not even fucking Mexico. There's so much fucking coke there that no one is really eating, apparently. In fact, rumor has it the cartels employ an ironic diet of just feeding themselves blow all day. Nothing else except cocaine psychosis explains what in the fuck is going on over in Sinaloa. The whole "Mexican Drug Problem" is that Mexican food is like the same 5 or 6 ingredients put together 50 different ways: tortilla, pico de gallo, rice, beans, meat and cheese. Finally some asshole nose exploded snorting his Colombian buddies stash and used it as seasoning in some enchiladas and that was all she wrote. She being good fishscale yayo, of course. See, I fixed the mexican drug war by thinking about tacos. Great things are done everyday.
However, I don't care that much about Mexican Narco-politics I fucking love taco trucks, one dysentery hospitalization at a time:
EQUALS
Bliss. And yet, I still miss rainy, cloudy-ass Seattle and a wonderful Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D. to the locals) I've developed while living there.
Goddamn, I miss Capitol Hill.
Here, listen to good music for a change:
