I want to try and write something every day this month, to resist my hiding instincts. I’m looking for work, planning, thinking and that tends to elicity ostrich behavior in me.
This is something I received in my junk mail folder today and thought it was quite beautiful:
Subject: But ran home
The king’s child went out into the forest.
I’ve noticed some original subject lines, and sometimes even witty phrasings that have caught my eye as I delete the folder, and I’ve often wondered if someone is paid, much like telemarketing jobs, to produce email content for these spam emails, and then given random email addresses to send them to, just like telemarketers are given phone numbers to call.
Drove around town today, running errands. Through Silverlake and Hollywood. After a successful stop into Amoeba, I gave into the hot day and stopped for less than ten minutes to get a watermelon juice on Hollywood Blvd. I noticed Elizabeth Taylor’s star as I stepped around my car. As I ran back, juice in hand, I saw the white envelope of failure slapped against my windshield, tacked by the wiper. A $50 parking ticket. Driving back in the sluggish rush hour traffic, I thought about why tickets make me feel so overwhelmed. I suppose it’s because they’re one of the few instantaneous punishments we get as adults. You do something bad = you pay a fine. Getting a ticket makes me feel like a kid caught in the middle of doing something naughty. It’s embarrassing because there is no excuse.
The sun is setting now, and everything is forgiven. The sweat, the traffic, the ticket and my momentary loss of courage, the heat. The temperature is dropping by the minute, and the sky is changing colors, warming up to golden tones as everything is refreshed. We get a short break before everything starts back up again in the morning. It gets hot early. Maybe I’ll go for a walk tonight.