Just yesterday it was a warm summer day in Buenos Aires: I was enjoying a post-lunch espresso in a marina patio while scraping dead skin cells off the ridge of my nose ... This morning at 7 AM, I stepped out of a plane, right into an unpleasantly chilly LA winter. Was about to turn around and angrily shake my fist at the equator, but I realized it wasn’t the earth’s fault that it was bipolar. Just born that way. And besides, manic depression is the least of its psychological defects.
MARS: What'd you say?
JUPITER: What'd who say?
MARS: Earth. Thought she was muttering something to to me about toast .
JUPITER: Dude, I'd keep a safe distance from her right now. Having one of her schizophrenic episodes. Last time she started frothing at the mouth and tried to bite Venus. That bitch is loco.
MARS: Got it. I'm just going to quietly orbit out of the way ...
Besides the instant season change, it felt like I’d been gone for a long-ass time. Half-expected to see people flying around in jetpacks and worshipping a giant statue of a rat deity they’d erected next to the Staples Center. Barely conscious, I cabbed it home, showered, and drove straight to the office. It’s not even the same office I had before I left for vacation – they’d just finished renovating our floor. Brighter, bigger and colder. I may raise alpaca in here.
I’m going to head home right now and eventually get some sleep. Soon those summer days of Brazil and Argentina will be completely flushed out of my system, hopefully along with my syphillis, and I’ll be back to my numb pre-vacation self. But at least I took pictures.
Will be posting ‘em soon.
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