I'm hungry all the time now that I wake up earlier. The gnawing in my stomach never leaves me. Those morning drives through this car soaked city energize me. I feel relief in that in between time, when the sun hasn't risen yet. When I'm alone, obeying street lights. Stop. Go. Slow.

There's a shirtless guy. He's muscular, and he's lifting weights in the slant that leads to the rooftop parking. He puts down the weights, then he brings them to his shoulders again. I'm not sure what he's doing, it's right by the cat hospital.

At work they're working on developing a movie from a book I found in the database. We're looking at other books, as well. Super exciting. I hope all goes well with the shopping agreements and finding a groovy screenwriter and what not. I think the concept if executed right will be a lot of fun.

But alas, I realize the pitfalls of development. I realize it's nicknamed development hell. The windows at work are really funny, they take up the whole wall and look out on the street and you get to see all the people going and coming from work.

The guy with the weights is gone. I don't know who he was showing off for. There's just this mechanic shop across the street. This office is right by the 405. I can just picture all the smog particles swooping down and dancing around in my lungs. "Hey, hey," they're singing, "We're gonna give you cancer! Yay! Cha cha cha!" Yeah, pollution particles. I'm talking to you.

Highlights of my day so far.

1) Watching the rainbow pinwheel of doom on my computer screen and contemplating killing myself. I kid, I kid. But I swear, the rainbow pinwheel of doom likes to make my life miserable, I'm pretty sure.

2) Going to pilates at 6am. I've been walking over the Hyperion Bridge in an attempt to not use my car when I'm back in the hood, and so far so good. After pilates I had so much energy, definitely worth it.

3) There is no three. I live a sad, sad life. Just kidding, waking up next to M. That was awesome. See, I'm afraid of the dark and all that, so I like having a buddy to talk to while I fall asleep. Sometimes I will poke this said buddy just to make sure he's still there and hasn't vanished into the ether. Because vanishing into the ether sucks. Unless I'm the one vanishing. Then it's awesome. M was in Arizona for three days, and even though that is a ridiculously short time. I get sentimental sometimes. It happens. I'm a girl after all.

Highlight of my week. Well, it's only Wednesday but girl's night at Amanda's was pretty freaking awesome. Also, seeing Lex and other old and new faces that I adore. Rock. On. Such positive energy. I love it.

Oh yeah. You know what's good? Vanilla yogurt and grapes. I crave that stuff. Just saying.

On lunch breaks during work, I lock myself in the sound engineer room and write on the good days. Commuting takes a lot of precious hours of my day. On good weeks, I write 15-20 hours plus Monday through Friday. On bad weeks, 5 hours, which is entirely unacceptable. And writing during that hour at lunch helps make me meet my goal. Because I am a psycho about goals. And finishing projects that I care about. Or at least continuing to revise them and revise them and revise them. It's the only thing that gets me moving forward.

This weekend, since Biscuit got totaled, we're going car shopping. It's strange, I haven't driven down Virgil Avenue since the accident. It's bad luck for me now. I make sure to take Rowena or the street before. I avoid Virgil altogether. (I almost wrote Virgins there. "I avoid Virgins altogether." Man.) That little section by Little Bar. It's weird, I almost had an anxiety attack when I thought about driving down that road where we collided. I wasn't meant to drive. I don't LIKE driving. Sometimes I long to be back in Boston or New York. San Francisco sounds fun. But there's so much good in Los Angeles too. I fucking love this town. It's messy and misunderstood and full of life and sun and crazy dreamers. My kind of place.

Thoughts On My Morning Commute

Did you know junk mail is subsidized by the taxpayers? How many people actually use those stupid pamphlets. Also, did you know that we're also paying for those democratic/republican/vote for me glossy fliers? Do you know how much glossy fliers cost? It's not cheap.

The trucker had a long white beard and sunglasses even though it was cloudy. He sat like a little buddha in the yellow tractor seat and he backed it up and the little light went ding, ding, ding.

All business is cash. No receipts. An international grapevine. It's easier to do it this way, because you do what you can. According to the guy next to me all chinese are little worker ants. They're taking over. Actually that's just what I thought when the radio man kept saying, "They're taking over, they work and work, they do not rest."

It's strange how where you are is instantly what is. You move to Lagos and suddenly blackouts are a part of your day. They are just what happens. And everyone stares at you. You are not to be trusted.

I want to move to Lagos.

Strange how your world can change. You're passed out, you're awake. Someone's punching you. Someone's saving you.

New York has a swarming bee epidemic this summer. So just ignore the crowds, because there's no point. Right now. And did you know? Swarming bees don't sting. I didn't. Maybe I won't run away next time they swarm on me in Griffith Park.

It's been gloomy all week. Every week. June's just gloomy. But why? Why June?

All my favorite countries are failing. The economies are crashing. No one wants to declare bankruptcy. But maybe they should. Start over. Clean slate. It's a shame that living well doesn't make money. Living well by doing nothing, I mean.

My mind is blank. I can't think. Can't write. I'm supposed to write a page of this new story, a self-imposed deadline and I'm happy to do it, but I don't know if I can. My insides are an empty, cold shell. M's making a Greek salad. We're making bread. And by that we're heating it in the oven. There's leftover pasta. I ate two dried mango pieces. There's sugar in carrots, did you know that? And bananas? Nothing's good for you. 39grams per serving on the back of the mango box. That can't be good. I don't think it can. They don't teach you about sugar in school, only calories and saturated fat. Maybe I just wasn't listening.

Back to the land of the living. To the kitchen to do the dishes. There are dishes in the sink. The thing about dishes is that they never end. Especially if you live with someone who loves to cook. Still, I'd take dish duty over cooking any day. =)