My right upper arm muscles are sore. I refuse to write about how I'm listening to Fugazi right now. I am also in need of a yoga partner. I have returned from a 505150. They kept me at my friend's apartment in Los Angeles with no money, and only two changes of clothes. They made me smoke inside and get high. They made me sit in the back seat of a car with no leg space. They bought me every meal, every drink, and every cigarette I consumed during my stay. Our first stop was a strip club where I spent every dollar I had. Suddenly my wallet was full of one dollar bills. "How convenient," I thought to myself. One of the dancing babes put her hat on my head. I was in a trance, but not for the reasons that are obvious if this was just some fictional story. I was in a new place with new people and it felt so familiar. Every time I tried to be in charge of something, it inevitably failed. I guess you could say that they took good care of me withoutright insisting. It felt so much like a dream because I had no concept of time; it just never made sense. Anything could happen in 3 hours, really... 10pm-1am...
Before that they locked me in a concrete room where drugs were available, just dangling in front of me like a dripping duck.
It was so terrible.
Then they made me talk to a blonde musician who was shorter than me.
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