The sun hurt my eyes as I drove uphill through a California rainstorm. The clouds hung at heavy right angles in the sky. Knives of light from the chartreuse murderball punctured downward onto empty streets. I scavenged in ill-consonance and no joy. I felt lined with static fractures and no rhythm. White jacket was back, this time with a friend. I showed my respect by averting my eyes and plugging my ears with thistles.
9:11 p.m. - 2016-04-29
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