The importance of being lazy
12:00 pm Feb 23, 2010

Chas and camel think existentially in Yemeni desert

I sometimes love and want to not surf. When the skies open up, in Los Angeles, and pour down their fury, filling the Pacific with toxins. And I sit sipping café au lait at Café Tropical, in Silver Lake, feeling like a surfer (because I surfed yesterday) and looking like a surfer (because my face is tanned, hair blonde) and acting like a surfer (because I call the waiter “braddah”). It is sometimes tres rad to not surf.

And after coffee with milk I sometimes love to go shopping. I shuffle my Globe Motleys down the rain-slicked sidewalks of Santee Alley, downtown. I study knock off Tom Ford sunglasses and push past pushy Mexicans. They don’t mean to be pushy, it is simply their culture. Mexico City has a population of 9 million people! I watch poor Chinese women try on knock off Louis Vuitton bags and laugh. The irony!

And after shopping I sometimes love to go and watch Rihanna perform at Nokia LA Live, next to the Staples Center. Moisture glistening on all the neon. I am the only man my age and young African-American girls stare but I smile, wink and nod. A small group of homosexuals smile, wink and nod toward me but I frown, stare and shake my head “no” toward them.

And after singing along to “Good Girl Gone Bad” and “Fire Bomb” (what a show!) I sometimes love to go to the Chateau Marmont. I sit where John Belushi used to before speedballing and drink down caipiruvas while staring into space. Then I wander Sunset, precipitation dropping dropping dropping, until reaching The Viper Room. I sit on the curb where River Phoenix used to before convulsing and smoke a clove. And I stare at the sky. I probably won’t surf tomorrow either.

Where I’m going I don’t need my brakes. Can’t wait to see your face. When your front windows break and I come crashing through. The lovers need to clear the road.


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