September past the solstice, I forgot

It's easy to see why but it's not been the kind of week for gauging time by the standards that no one seems to be able to agree on.

A lot of madness, people breaking down, blaming, putting ultimatums, I got back a week ago to drama as soon as I stepped foot on the ground at Union Station, or should I say when your car pulled up and the cop rocket made LA look like a douchebag town even more than the chick blowing her whistle at every pick-up. Very poor form but no one seems to care, it's the train station, people drive here--don't they?

Um, yeah, you hold on to the stereotypes while I shimmy my way down to the desert and learn how to survive in the on going water crisis, state of emergency on skid row silently slips by in the LA times, thank god for twitter where over the years I have managed to follow enough of the right accounts that I think I may know when the world is going down in flames -- and I just want to get away from the idiots, who are toxic, drama junkies, and it's not easy and I can't get into details but think of the theme being for my friends' book and my article on 400 "Friends" and No One to Call: Producing in Los Angeles