Weakness.

Hello.

You know what I would like? A fucking rain storm. Yeah, the sunshine is great and all but in this city of asphalt and cars, the incessant heat comes as kind of a kick in the nuts. Where’s a desert monsoon when you need one? Oh yeah… not here.

So I’m in the middle of my first week of detoxification and I’m only slightly bitter (see above). Those little things like, “Hey, it’s a holiday and everyone else seems to be enjoying a nice cold beer, but wait, no, not nick.” Not drinking is a lot less fun than it would seem. Plus I’ve already slipped up a bit when Carlos took me to a rad little bar down on the pier in Redondo. Apparently I HAD to order some red drink which is what you go there for, and far be it from me to disrespect that fine establishment and its signature drinks. No cigarettes or pot though. And no soda (with the exception of some red bull) or fried foods.

See. Are you reading this? I am subtly convincing myself to give up the alcohol part of my hiatus. Yep. I am weak. I’m going to the 7-11 and buying some beer. Then I guess I’m going to hell.

Sigh.