Always Take The Weather With You

I don’t think Neil Finn had this in mind when he wrote the song. For the past week and a half, I’ve been fighting a tag team of malaise and existential panic (OK, fine, more so than usual). The legal market is horrendous and my resume is getting negged left and right, plus my writing seems to have stalled. Oh yeah, then there’s that whole Mama Stark telling me what a fuck up I am. Recipe for a depression goulash, garnish liberally with self-pity, right?

So I drove down to Lalaland today to begin looking for a new crib. When I got off the 405 onto Wilshire, the sun was out, I had the windows down and the sunroof on da’ pimp daddy mobile open with The Hives “Hate To Say That I Told You So” blasting. I was feeling rather Reservoir Dog, and I had a smirk on my face.

As soon as I got to where I was crashing, the L.A. June gloom (well, ‘cept it’s only April) started to creep in. Now, there’s a sooty gray layer blanketing the sky and I can only used forced imagery. Inertia creeps (she comes . . . actually, in my case, she doesn’t return your e-mails . . . heh heh).