All that I owe you

Life has been setting a moving screen, and the refs ain’t callin’ it

This session finds me writing in the quiet part of a central LA park whose whole you’d be damning with faint praise were you to call it post-apocalyptic. There are enough unhoused, crazy-high and plain crazy people here to be an entire mid-size city’s troublesome homelessness problem. More strikingly, the sense that most folks here have shit their pants is pervasive. One senses that most who haven’t yet are just waiting on their man.

My new job is 100 feet away from here. I’m tutoring at an elementary school. The campus is fenced in, praise Jah.

This new temporary gig is why you’re receiving this unclassified email that is neither newsletter nor pod. Training has coincided with the move into my new Echo Park crib and, now, a difficult break-up. Too many minutes have been burned staring out into space, wondering. And I owe you content, which is making me feel bad.

The point though is not to complain, just to explain.

Because, like, I am going out way too much, too. There’s definitely a we-couldn’t-miss-you-if-you-didn’t go-away quality to how much I’m asked to things now. (I’m supposed to be at a Troubadour show tonight and an East Hollywood DJ thing on Saturday) But also, in a town where geography counts for so much, my new place is physically in the mix as it hadn’t been in my recent downtown LA days

If you just happen to be in the Arts District of downtown Los Angeles you’re probably on your way to or from East LA.

I’ve been parenting a bunch, too. It was the point of getting back down here, and in theory this parenting of adult children was gonna be less hands on.

Like going out, being helpful dad’s a blast. But… time.

So, you are owed content. To be clear, I am not even really following the NBA like I should, as life has been setting a moving screen. And the refs ain’t callin’ it. Please wait for me to settle down. Once I’m comfy I should be back to my content monster ways.