"It is a red flag day today in Los Angeles. The city will make it to 89 today, valley 104, and beeches only eight. But there will be high humidity so make sure you look in on the old and new to make sure they are OK."
Well since I had nobody to look in on me, I looked in on myself and took a bullet from the medicine chest. Almost immediately, my lungs coughed up some slime, the residue when my lungs breathing have been compromised with a harness called Ozone. I knew that Pacific City on the coast would be my salvation today, mainly the Waterfront Hilton.
"I'll take a medium dark coffee today?"
"Is that New York Times yours?...That will be five fifty five."
Outside the coffee shop, skimpy bathing suits with bearded men splashed in the pool. For me, i wished to wade into a pool of words, sung by the best writers in America. This guy Trump must be good for the papers circulation. Something new was added to the dirty tricks investigation. Trump Junior's nose kept growing longer and longer, just like Pinocchio's.
What I really get inside the hotel is pure crisp air, since inside the city it feels like breathing Cyanide. My air waves transmit the words into exciting events. And speaking of air waves, Trump seldom at white house and not without reason. He disdains reporters and the only one he listens to is himself. Why he is God, isn't he?" Adoph Hitler nationalized the radios and even newspapers back in the 30's. And no doubt Trump would do the same if he could and you no what, He just might.
Outside my white house is a marble fountain, and further away are the multicolored umbrellas homesteading their rights to a slice of sand close to the water. It is too hot to stand on the sand, and my feet have burns to prove it. While I cradle my coffee cup, I go outside on the patio and engulf the view the same way the seagulls do without a care in the world.
Seldom do I see any father holding the hand of his wife. It is all about their children. "Dad, can you buy this buggy board for me." The Dad's look totally unfit. There pockets might be stuffed with cash but for me, just give me the view the seagull and that is all that i will need.
Upstairs on the second floor, a lawyer spoke to me about his mother who passed on a few weeks ago. "My life is over. I did it all by the time I made 55 and with the death of my mother, there is nobody to love me." My lawyer friend cried. I felt sorry for him since we the secret of a good life is to live it each day, and for me tonight it means reading the book Mary Queen of Scots by Fraser.
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