good looking

There are some good looking people in LA. I don’t mean people that look good, I mean people that are good to look at. People who are on all kinds of trips. People who are depressed and people who are on antidepressants. Not Prozac or Zoloft, but good old fashioned drugs like thorazine. Drugs that make people shuffle. Drugs that make people get haircuts that look like triangles. I used to think it was cool to be crazy. Cool to have found an escape. Once when I was in the hospital, in the psychiatric ward, there were all these middle-aged housewives, they would sit in these groups and talk about their depression. That was not so cool. There was this Asian guy though; I wanted to be his friend while I was in the hospital. He was a pyromanicac. Now that was cool, burning stuff down, now that is not giving a shit about anything. After a few days I gave up, I couldn’t understand a word he said, and he didn’t give a shit about anything I said. I have heard that the things that initialy attract you to a person are the things that drive you away…
After that I started working on getting out.
Today I made the wrong turn in a store and came upon the saddest interview I have ever seen. A makeshift table in a hallway with florescent lights. A young man, who didn’t look too smart, bent over an employment application mumbling. A seated woman with her back towards me, all I could see was the back of her head bobbing in some sort of feigned energetic agreement, and her ass crack. Outside a man struggled to keep his balance while bending over to pick up lost change.

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