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Tuesday February 06th 2007, 8:39 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Love Letters

To a lonely Tuesday,

The heat of summer is suffocating. The weather in Los Angeles can destroy ambition. However, today I did accomplish a few errands such as: I built a shelf for my closet; I sent out numerous emails and resumes to potential job listings; I started working on building a PHP website for my old employer Fit For Living. Moreover, I was able to scout my local neighborhood for signs of life and excitement, even though I found none. The neighborhood Iím living in is naturally beautiful and at nights, the chirping of crickets brings a warm nostalgic feeling for my childhood in Sacramento. But in terms of hip-action and excitement, thereís not a single activity in this enclave of Los Angeles. One part of my prospects for survival is glad to know I wonít be bothered by such rouse as I had been in the past; yet on the other hand, there is a part of me that wishes to live in the center of cultural excitement. So once again, Iím torn between the decent solitude of my geographical location versus my need to be in a stimulating environment to keep in touch with contemporary culture. My roommate Brianna, who up until tonight I enjoyed immensely, told me tonight that I probably wonít be able to paint in the house because she doesnít like the smell of the fumes. I donít like the smell either, however that doesnít stop me for craving my visual expression through paint on a canvas. And so Iím a little upset about her qualms with me wanting to work in the house, especially since she has her sewing materials spread out through the entire place. In fact, the more I divide the space, the more I come to realize how unfair the current division is for me. The whole place is full of her things, yet we split the rent in half. Those types of fractions donít add up in my head. But, I will wait a little longer before I make any rash decisions about how I am going to problem solve this equation. So far Iíve not one reply to my job searches, but itís too early to become pessimistic. For Lunch today, Erin and I drove into Pasadena to eat sushi. I tried the scallop rolls for the first time. My advice is: donít get the scallops. The texture is like little gonads that pop in your mouth like a burst of fishy flavor. While driving around the city, I concluded that moving to Los Angeles wasn’t just an important decision, it was a necessary one. I needed to leave your presence; I needed to escape from your haunting memories. If I hadnít left San Francisco, I would have followed my self-destructive self into oblivion. It was a matter of pure survival for me to leave the ghost town that San Francisco became. And even though I feel lonely right now, I know I will be better able to cope with these lonely tendencies in Los Angeles than I could have in the wake of your wrath. Someday we may become so distant that your face will begin to blur as I try to recall your physical features, and Iím OK with this prediction. Your voice will no longer linger in my memories and your tonal registration will be supplanted with the songs of new ideas and fresh thoughts. These are exciting hopes that are helping me progress through some of my pent-up anger I have towards you. By choice or not by choice, you have become a scapegoat for everything that goes wrong in my life. I look forward to the time when I will no longer use you as an excuse for the follies of my life. But until that magical moment of release, you are the cause of my daily failures. Let me apologize ahead of time.

-A cricket chirping

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