Echo Park Afternoon





Man, I hate driving back to the Valley after a day like this, and what a lovely day it was.

Wait, what am I saying? I love strip malls! And dreary boulevards!

Let’s not forget fat people at Costco, living in their sweatpants!

But darling, don’t you like owning our own house?

Right now,  I’d rather rent and be one of the cool people again.   Just for a month.  

But what about the animals?  Where would they live? What would become of the garden?

What garden?  Hipsters don’t need gardens.  They have craft cocktails and art events to which they can bike.  They live in a world with actual bike lanes.

You’re being silly.

I’m being true to myself. I’ve been lying to myself for a decade. I see clearly now.

I think we had too much sangria.


Even the ugly buildings are interesting. Look.

You can paint eyeballs on the side of the house if it makes you feel better.

Echo Park is my mistress.

You have no mistress.  And you like having lots of space.

I don’t need space. I could sleep on Allison and Marcus’s couch.  

And what would you do for food?

Who needs food? I could be a breathatarian.  I could trade my worldly goods for bike tools.

Darling, bike lanes are first world problems.  So are aesthetics.

What’s with this traffic? Shouldn’t we be home already?

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