[The Lost Stone.]

Can you walk and write at the same time? Maybe

Christian Nodal

God, I fucking love this place. Why?!

I loved it here, definitely—but it had taken me two hours to be “ready” this morning, after going to bed showered and somewhat ready in a sense, I woke up cruelly devastated that I couldn't sleep in, though I technically already had, as the plan had been to ride early enough to head to the gym before the passport office—however, having spent the three nights sleeping on the floor at work, realizing there was no way to pay rent and ever leave Las Vegs—the trap of the century— and, planning to spend at lesst the next two weeks doing so just so that I had enough money to escape, forgave myself the extra 3 or four hours—however, Los Ángeles, as beautiful as she was in all her glory, and whatever it was that fascinated me about it; this is why I wasn't amongst the elite that could afford to stay here. Whatever curse was set upon me wasted too much time, often spinning me in circles and off and walking in the wrong direction, dazed and confused, or in the very least, agitated with anxiety—as still, even as a size 4, I really was bigger than LA standards were set to be, and even having spent the last coils years in the gym, nothing was really going to change that. I liked to eat, and though I hadn't kn some weeks, I would t dare, at least yet—

Oooh, that Peruvian potato salad looks like it SMACKS.

[earlier] a rose quartz stone falls from SUPACREE's bra and hits the pavement at a busy intersection in downtown Los Ángeles.

I heard it drop, and thought to myself ‘just leave it' it wsd one of many rose quarts I carried in memorandum of Sonny; he was powerful in his own right and not meant to be held, and yet—I had a tendency to always replace them, feeling as if I had lost something; then, how could you lose something you really never had? The stone, always carefully invented and carried acted as a security blanket—I had always needed it more than wanted it to be true what my heart had made up of anything that happened, and still I had it in my mind that something with Sonny was going to have to happen eventually in some realm of somewhere I existed, even if it was just perhaps in my own construct—it was absolutely impossible, I thought that nothing could come from all of this— and k had known now for quite some time that the stone needed to be removed. Los Ángeles had a way of making me move in just the right way so that a stone that needed to be dropped would fall; I had over the course of four years in total maybe dropped about 8 rose quarts that had been incanted with intentions for whatever I needed, less than wanted, as with the more time passed the more I realized all I wanted was peace and what I needed was love, and although they may not have been all possible through whatever I was mixed up in, it meant something.

I don't know how to live here.

I had to make so much money to really live in Los Ángeles; on top of being flawless—which I was moving towards in a certain way, and still—

Ouch. Fuck.

—I had bitten my tongue for the second time that day, and though the day before I had strangely tasted very distinctly the taste of blood on my palate, which I found strange, but not at all shocking, as I was entering Los Ángeles, a terrifically magical place in any realm—and though I had many times been rejected and dispelled from the city, all the whole knowing why—it seemed oddly as if this was home, and something continued drawing me back. Now, though, I was over myself enough to not take it so personally that I wasn't really “good enough” for LA—but having recently discovered what actually living in Las Vegas was like, I wasn't quite bad or broken enough to mistake that i belonged there, either.

I didn't want to go to Mexico, but living in Las Vegas wasn't allowing for anything good; I felt in a sense that I had lost all my own magic, and though magic was indeed still in effect, it seemed all dark and disgusting.

I was somehow glad I dropped Sonny's stone. As I had been meditating with it and received the command to let it go—but being stuck in Vegas, I didn't know where I might be able to safely drop or bury it, and so I kept it with me—however, less on my person and typically in my bag, unless it was important and for some reason I felt I needed extra security

{Enter The Multiverse}

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