545 am 11.18.11
Scene: a couch in a loft in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles
It was a restless sleep yet again tonight. There’s just too much excitement in the air. A new job. A new place in the works. A new romance. I’m not sure of all the details or how long anything will last, but, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I feel washed over with peace.
The unnamed gent went out with friends last night and so did I. I got in early and ended up reading before I passed out.
The red bricked wall across the alleyway was still dark when I awoke. This may not be the city that never sleeps but it sure does make it difficult at times.
There is an energy racing the streets of downtown Los Angeles. It is a fever that whips through and catches you like the sun as it peers its head and smiles down from atop a skyscraper. I’ve got the fever and it’s not going away anytime soon.
It has become routine for me to wake up earlier and earlier. While the city sleeps and the bricks turn their bright reds and whites, is when I can gather my thoughts and relax without worry or care for another soul.
And then I felt his kiss.
Dressed in a suit and tie, he had come home again.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” I asked him.
“Very much so. I’m going to eat an apple and go to sleep. I’ll let you get back to your writing.”
We hugged and chatted a few minutes before he wandered up to his cave.
Good morning Los Angeles. Good morning.