California is sexier at night

I brought this up before, but it’s something that suck with me. Whenever the sun was up, I was assaulted by the mundane, homogeneous light-brush-and-subdivision clusterfuck that is middle California. But when the sun went down and all I could see was the bright lights, I could imagine a movie set perfect vacation home, complete with hottub and white-felt-pool table. My minds eye could see the nipped and tucked children of privilege, preparing themselves for excess. I imagined hot cars simmering under neon lights and fogged windows, the jangling noise of the club only occasionally punctuated by squeaking suspension. In my mind, we drove on a nonstop Sunset Strip, the junkies and the whores and the flickering yellow lights of a twenty four hour store selling vice were just out of my sight. Just beyond the shadow of the freeway. Just beyond my reach.

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