It's just me. I
wanted to be alone tonight, I never thought I'd
ever say that. I
wanted to be alone tonight.
If I ever
thought I'd hear myself saying that, I'd guess I'd take it to mean I'd
be alone for a little bit, and then end up drunk with Ash somewhere.
But she's off herding sheep in Australia, so I'm alone.
Really really alone.
And what does
one do when one is really really really alone?
Go find somebody to hang out with!
No, no. Not only do
I want to be alone, but I want to be reflective.
Melancholy. Okay, I
already am those things, but I want to be in a place where my outsides
matches my insides. Where
is the most melancholy place in L.A. that I can come up with?
The La Brea Tar Pits. Have
you ever been down there? It's
not too far from my house, and yet I've never been, primarily because I
am not a fifth grader on a science field trip.
And yet, there's something about those wooly mammoths.
a handy dandy description on a plaque nearby that says something
like "The father and son mammoth watch in terror as their
mother is stuck in the tar."
Why ANYONE thought that'd be a good idea to depict right
smack in the middle of L.A. is truly truly beyond me.
Look at 'em.
baby mammoth is gonna be traumatized for life.
I'M traumatized for life just looking at him.
Staring for all eternity at his stuck Mommy Mammoth in
the tar pit. Mommy
Mammoth is frozen in pain and agony for all eternity.
And why is the Mommy Mammoth the one stuck?