you said los angeles wouldn’t be standing come morning, but look, here we are, still standing, smog, sunshine and silver lake. i drove up the west side of the reservoir and everyone was up and about so early in the morning. there was a father trying to block the view of his son peeing against the hill, a man walking with his wife and child waving at me to slow down, children collecting donations instead of selling lemonade at the corner. it was like a video game; i kept wondering who i would see after one more bend in the road.
we had breakfast at algermacs, which is, according to eric, Where Old People Go to Eat. they serve unmelted slices of american cheese on top of your omelettes and endless cups of good-bad diner coffee. there is a section hidden behind the restrooms that smells like everyone’s grandparents’ house.
“where does the name ‘algermac’ come from?”
“it’s a term from the old days: he’s such an algermacdaddy.”
“it reminds me of algae.”
“flowers for algermac.”
the week, i’ve been having long talks, watching jackie chan movies and making art, and it has been so good. my soul was glad to make room for more comfort and laughter and less fear and tears. i just need to resist the temptation to feel guilty for living, because this is when it most counts.