When the skies go gray.

After two decades of living in this shitty city of mine I start to hate the day-in-day-out. The skies go gray too often.

I don’t know if it’s the mid-atlantic weather, or the fog of lies that emanates from this chocolate city’s marshmallow center that makes it all so bleak. Sometimes I think its the people. Too many of them are depressing, whether it is by nature or example.

The smart ones get out when they can. The stupid ones fight to get here. Hollywood for ugly people, they call it.

I walk past the hospital to the corner store, the hospital I was born in. Two decades and I’ve moved barely a hundred yards. Sirens punctuate the spanish songs as they scream by on the left. People don’t even know how to get out of the way here. The problem isn’t the terrain, or the lack of society. The problem isn’t the shade of the sky or the wail of the ambulance. No, at the end of the day the problem is us, still walking to the corner store to pick up some cheap food or booze, the little distractions on the long gray road.

I gotta get out of this place.

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What I’m going to miss

I’ve lived in Washington D.C. all my life. For the first time in twenty years (my birthday is next friday) I will be not just removed from that, but removed from the entire east coast.

I’ve often said that living here makes you insane by default. I think there’s some sort of brain-ray generator at the top of the Washington Monument that makes everyone go batshit crazy. How else do you explain American politics? For all its flaws, which I could easily spend days enumerating, I will miss certain things that I’ve always just taken for granted.

There’s the parks, for one. Rock Creek Park is one of the best places to hike that I’ve ever been to. I’d go there all the time during periods of stress just to even myself out. Then there’s the museums, all of them free, all of them filled with amazing stuff that you just don’t see elsewhere. I’ll even miss the politics. It’s a thinking man’s game, and I tend to think a lot.

I’ll miss the crazy protesters, not the anti-war ones, who have a good cause, but the anti-circumcision ones. Or the anti-spelling ones. The best picket sign I have ever seen read “Enuf is Enuf – Enough is Too Much!”

I’ll miss the music, and the history. I’ll miss the run down record shop on the corner that Dave Grohl used to work at before he was in, and I do believe this is the proper terminology, “Fucking Nirvana

They say around here that DC is Hollywood for ugly people. I wonder what happens when one of us goes to Hollywood?