progress is such a maniac of a word. it seems to apply to any form of moving forward, even if it’s in the abstract, and even if forward wouldn’t be the best way to describe direction. in going three steps forward & two steps back, technically the two steps back would be a part of ‘progress,’ even if they aren’t when viewed individually.
viewed individually, they look like things falling apart.
anxiety cuts through time like a hot knife in butter. every second feels like an hour & suddenly the day is lost, darkness has consumed the city once again. i wonder if the city streets will ever feel so comfortable that i could drive them again unworried about the price of gas—if my mind wouldn’t then wander to the oil fields & what it took to get the price so affordable to begin with. we are adaptive creatures: the emotional spectrum adapts to the mind of the person it is inherent to. the mind adapts to the circumstances it is presented with. one step forward, one step back.
dusk doesn’t make it far in los angeles. the light pollution spoils any real hope the night has of being anything other than a blanket to neon signs & police sirens. a city known for sunshine & night-life. there’s something for everyone, if you can find it—so i’m told. one step forward.
this makes for a certain urgency to loneliness. this isn’t manhattan or brooklyn—the potential for what is out there isn’t contained to the geography of an island. from inside an apartment, the sheer expanse of la ends only with the imagination. something’s happening with somebody somewhere. the nights can begin to feel like a collection of pieces to a hundred different puzzles. maybe i just need a different view in order to fit in. one step back.
my apartment has hedges grown over the iron fence at the front of the property, hedges various birds have made their nests in. sometimes i’ll stop & try to listen to their songs, but it’s never possible. the cops in their helicopters or the cars on hollywood keep the soundscape busy at all hours. i don’t mind when it’s all the same chorus, the chaos of everything. but in trying to single out the birds, suddenly i realize the distractions. this must be what people are talking about. one step forward.
some days are better than others—some i can’t tell which is which.