I'm back to my torture, my sin, my city of dead angels. Pretty leaves for work while Tommy and I hang out. He's grown fond of me, like they all do, so much so that he rubs his furry ass on me as often as he can. I don't mind. My sinuses on the other hand do. But it's not so bad, besides Tommy's just lonely. I can relate brother, so rub yourself wicked. While he stares out the window and salivates at the pigeons (i.e. rats with wings), I prep for my first round.
She tells me she hasn't slept in 2 days and was out doing lines till 6 this morning - oh boy. I cut Cokemon a HUGE amount of slack because of the magick we conjured the last time we shot but I already know we won't be having a repeat performance. She makes me laugh though, especially later when we're having dinner while a gay pride festival is raging right outside our restaurant window. Tons of meaty boys in assless leather chaps - Tom of Finland surely sporting wood deep in his grave. Cokemon spies her hairdresser among the crowds of meat lovers. I drink my Thai ice tea and grin at how animated she is. On the stage outside, a pair of dame trapeze artists are spinning on ropes, wearing tiny dental floss undies and feathered hats. Sexy asses in the disco sky - you spin me round.
As I listen to the soft snores of Pretty next to me and the even softer purr of Tommy as he sleeps comfy on top of her head, I realize that being back doesn't feel like it. I get up and go to the window ledge and stare out onto the hollywood night. This place isn't home anymore. The fire I felt in my gut when I first landed here has completely been snuffed out. It's a good feeling, one that I hold on too as the dawn breaks and my eyelids scream to sleep.
'what have I become my sweetest friend - everyone I know goes away in the end'