As you can tell from my recent lack of posts and constant car-driving, I'm deep inside a very bad time at work. The madness has sucked me up to San Francisco, where I've been for the past two days, and where I'm now sitting in a yellow cab on my way to SFO after a couple of nights of working till 2 and 3.
It's cold in San Francisco, and gray, and I absolutely love it. I love cold, misty weather like this. L.A.'s idiotically uniform sunshine and blue skies, like the background in some Hanna-Barbera cartoon, drive me totally nuts. The unrelenting perfect days are oppressive, insipid, soul-sapping.
I was so tired last night that I fell asleep in my colleague's chair as we were discussing some legal document in his office. I actually dropped the paper from my hands as I fell asleep in mid-sentence. I woke up a few seconds later. It was awkward. It was about 2:25 in the morning.
I don't know when this insanity will let up. Those days of leisure, riding the bus to work at 7, riding home at 8, seem irretrievable. I just want to enjoy things: riding the bus, writing blog posts for you, playing soccer, hanging out with Mrs. Octopus in Eagle Rock. This whole rat race thing is bull shit.
I am going to sleep all the way to Burbank.