Secret Pop

Dec 19, 2003

I love a gal in uniform.

A meter maid did me a kindness today. Isn't that a wonder? I was coming out of the Giant Robot Store, and I realized I had forgotten to put money in the meter. Maybe because I usually go there on Sundays. Maybe because it was already dark out and it felt after six to me. But it was certainly my fault, and I rushed up to her and said, "I'm here! I'm here! Is it too late?" And she pitied and me and said, "Aw, honey, I hate to give you a ticket when you're right here." Apparently, she'd already sent all my information through, but she said she would see what she could do about canceling it. A ticket might still show up in the mail, but if it does, I will gladly pay it, knowing someone meant to be nice to me and bureaucracy be damned.

I had a wonderful, productive day. There's something surprisingly not-horrible about having to set your alarm and get up and be somewhere. I had forgotten that. One of these days, when I get myself a proper job again, I will try and remember that feeling and not long for the freedom to be nowhere at all.

And it was gorgeous out. Cool and clear. The sky a foamy blue. Brilliant, squinty sunlight without a spot of haze. I adore Los Angeles during these months. I mentioned how pretty it was when I was talking with my mom, and she taunted me in this fashion: "Whatever it is there, San Diego is better." Such certain smugness is nearly worthy of admiration. The way my mom gloats, you'd think she built that city. And if you ask her, she'll probably say she did.

I dropped off more film. The march toward Lomo domination continues. I will conquer the world with my red-soaked lens. Wait and see.

She called me "honey." I will remember that.

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