Tangent: A Breath of Fresh Air

I never noticed the crickets chirping during the nights in Los Angeles. I don't know why. Maybe because associate this twilight soundscape with the balmy Summer months on the east coast; lying in bed on top of my sheets, sweating to death in my boxers, just waiting for their ambient chants to lull me to sleep. So, in the land where Autumn never comes; where Summer lasts forever, who's to blame me for this negligence?

After getting a cup of coffee with one of my best friends, recounting my recent trip to Madrid, I decided to go for a late run. The early night was especially cool, the air pure. I felt like I could really breath - a rare occasion in this smog-soaked city. I heard the crickets for the first time. I could smell the earth and my legs felt boundless. I don't know why, but my mind locked into this I run. And I flew.

Suddenly, my mind felt immensely clear. I could think. This writer's block I described in the entries preceding my vacation all but vanished. A weight lifted off of my shoulders and ideas began running through my head. I could hear the crickets.

My feet carried me home, sweat expelling the last three weeks of indulging the world; the excessive drinks, food, cigarettes, conversations, sights and sounds of a foreign landscape. I hear the crickets outside my open windows. I hear children wandering the streets, skateboards chugging along the cracks of the sidewalk, wild laughs and social jabs echoing through the neighborhood. School is out.

Summer is here. I left Los Angeles two weeks ago in the state it's always in. I ventured away from its stasis and returned here to the summer, to $4.00 a gallon of gas, to June gloom, to crickets chirping. I have no idea if they chirp all year long here. I guess I never took the time to listen. And now I've completely strayed from my original topic. Let me try this again...