Inside Outside

I don’t get out much. I work a 7-5 in front of a computer screen. It’s probably like being the Puppers when he’s trapped inside of an airplane. You know there’s a whole world that exists on the outside, you can see it, but you have to wait to get out.

The one thing I look forward to at the end of a long day is exercise, usually in the form of a run. Running gives me the opportunity to clear my mind and see the going-about’s of the people in my neighborhood. I love running past strange people. They always ignite my imagination. It’s not long before I’ve conceived an entire story about how they’re a spy who only eats Hungry Man TV dinners for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Or the couple who looks like they’re down on their luck/high on drugs. The smell indicates they haven’t showered for days, and her braid looks like it’s been slept on for a few nights, maybe in a cheap hotel bed. They’ve stolen a man’s wallet which contained the international routing number for the kidnapping organization which is holding the man’s daughter hostage, but now he can’t save her because some junkies stole his wallet. It goes on and on.

I’m positive my imagination’s a product of living in LA, surrounded by the entertainment industry. Everyone’s got a story and nothing is impossible to believe; reality bends to the whims of screenwriters and directors. We are the city of Cinderella and Superman. I couldn’t be happier being a resident.