Thursday, January 20, 2005

.o0Oout l@te

... the devil winds are back and running hot across the LA basin.

the santa anas are churning up the sea and my soul. the hot winds burn through the mountain passes and slide across the empty city at night to meet me by the water's edge, there i greet them as they set off to catalina to tickle the buffalos. a small skeleton figure that dwells on my dresser wobbles and dances with spirits of his ancestors that live in the hot breeze. no ships leave the port and none come in. its time for respect, the winds are listening.

around midnight i grab my camera and head to the port. always nervous that the unexpected may happen. my camera beeps and whirrs with anticipation. the waterfront is loney and dry as i set the tripod. every time i hear a howl i ask myself 'is it the wind or the wolves?' you can never be too careful. the burning air brings out the animal in people. after i steal a couple souls with my magic picture box i hit the road home. when i get back to my nest i hear the urgent straining cry of ambulances coming down my street. they shoot right past to the cliffs by the ocean with the wind chasing right behind. the devil winds always get somebody, i'm just glad it wasnt me tonight.