I have a blog, folks or folk, depending. Gutenburg, I think, is rolling over in his grave or, rather, he is using his lesser known time machine to travel forward to see this, then back to his teens so that he can kill himself with dignity.
Tonight I was walking on Melrose and saw a couple approaching me. A middle aged woman and a downright aged man. Weird scene. He was stumbling, looking a tad loopy; she was real excited about something. Maybe he had taken too many of his meds tonight or, likelier still, she has poached them from under his nose and he took seven different vitamin-Cs instead.
take yur cee
Gold digging or silver, I don’t know which (and neither, I think, did she), she caught him when he fell onto her. He mumbled some mumblings, then she thought of a comment to make. She went for it. She said, forcing a pathetic attempt to veil her utter want for a good reception:
“Yeah! You know, that’s good mariachi music they have there. That’s the only place in LA where you can hear good mariachi music. Other than that, ya know, you have to go to New York to hear good mariachi music.”
?
“I mean Mexico.”
The old man didn’t even notice.
