Compassionate Annihilation

Rumors have been swirling about like the wildfires of Southern California that Compadre is moving back to Seattle. Up until very recently I have taken the rather firm position that I will not accept it until I see it. A lot like the existence of God it is. We spoke on the phone recently, there was discussion of packing. I guess it kinda sounded like packing was going on. I’ve cleared out a storage unit for his use, and told him he’s welcome to it just as soon as he carts away the moldy carpet that’s sitting in there now. He asked about a parking space. Parking generally. Where he could park his Penske on Sunday night can you imagine! If he’s playing us he’s doing it to the nines. He threatened to stop in Portland and start a life in Portland. I threatened to do something even more whack. Vote Republican. Whatever the case may be Compadre will be quitting Los Angeles it seems. Vegans all along Pico are sad. I’ve made leaving Los Angeles fashionable for once.

It all seems upside down and backwards and this morning I stared at my moisturizer, then my hair goo, then back at my moisturizer. They are in almost identical jars, and for a moment I didn’t know which one to grab for what and had this horrible thought that I might accidentally rub hair goo on my face. Such dreadful misadventures have just been filling my head lately.