L.A. Thunder




Seems ODD to see actual weather in L.A.

Clouds, even THUNDER & LIGHTNING  are the order of the day. 
Between the coffee, the clouds and the indelible image of the Hamburgler, er 
DICK CHENEY planted forever like a twisted virus in my line of sight, 
the classic FUNK has taken hold, countered by an ebullience that ebbs and wanes like a tide, 
washing over me and taking the edge off the grim environs.
I ponder often what life would be like in a different climate than Southern California. 
I remember what it has been like in the past. 
Freezing cold winters in Bavaria, skiing shirtless in the sunshine in Telluride or Steamboat Springs, powder washing over abs and nipples at full attention…
…or the abject sorrow of damp melancholy permeating Seattle, 
an endless mist coercing introspection and loneliness. 
This day in L.A. shall pass, as the June Gloom dissipates and the brilliant sunshine bursts forth in a steady ray of warm joy that encompasses all. The gigantic ficus trees, an unlikely cousin of the apartment variety soars skyward to embrace the sun, filled with starlings and a microkingdom of nature’s beauty. The towering palms sway in the breeze over Sunset Boulevard, dropping the occasional massive frond with a crack and whoosh onto the unsuspecting passersby or parked cars.
As the seeming shift from Mediterranean arid climate to full on desert seems to take hold here in the southland, the long days seem even drier and hotter than before. Reservoirs run low, creeks dry up and the delicate tropical plantings demand their unfair share of the precious resource. Maybe a day or two of overcast skies isn’t such a bad thing after all.
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