MY GOD. WHAT IS HAPPENING. WHY NOT.

I've been staying with my friend, Chuck.  He lives close to his friends from back East.  The type of "back East" that when people ask you where you are from you say "back east" because its a buffer between the snap assed sophisticates of Manhattan and the Magic Men from the Kingdom of Jersey.

These kids know a thing or two about a thing or two and I'm learning a thing or two from them.  Entrepreneurs they are.  Entrepreneurs they be.  On the west side of Los Angeles, this kid from the East Side - (I'm talking Covina) has succumbed to the magnificent pleasures of Chipotle and Pink Berry.

I don't know how I feel about that.  All I know is that when one's world and sense of north has been obliterated and their voice has become a trite meatgrinder of gimmicky self aware love hungry conceptual bullshit - a sophisticated repulsion to all things Chipotle ceases to be about rebellion and takes on the terror of a becoming the holy father to some meth freak lost in a perpetual state of confession.

I don’t really feel like getting specific about the string of events that has given me peace in the face of those delicious fruit scoops perched on the creamy lips of mother confection but you have to understand that dropping acid and running with the bulls was the lighter side of my rage and it took me a long time to get to this point of disposal. 

There comes a point where everything you’ve fought for becomes threatened by your sense of self and one’s rebellion becomes the only thing that can save yourself from your anger.  Which is one part beautiful and another part spoiled bitch and once you reach your thirties you begin to replace pride with dignity. 

Here I go again, slapping meat onto the Himalayan-esque question known as the lunch line at Chipotle – ahh, yes . . . enlightenment lives in a warm tortilla – but all I know is that something has happened and for now its just a feeling that manifests in the startling realization that sooner or later, if things keep moving along like they are – I may have no qualms about wearing sandals. 

Fingers crossed. 

Thank you.  Come again.      

Comments

[BOB]

.........yeh. And an american flag vest, made of leather ( shirtless, of course). Come on. Come to flavor country. Crispin Glover told me that this is the place where my Wildest Dreams will come true. He was in Trader Joe's at 9am with a shopping cart full of Italian Sodas. So....

[inaccurate laser]

...sandals...