My house is a damn mess. Cluttered to hell, which is amazing because I cleaned everything up like I was going to be showing the place about 2 weeks ago. I started my new (old) job back at Kragen, now working in El Monte. It's ghetto as hell, some lady was shot 7 times and killed about 50 feet in front of the store about a month ago. The store is a disaster and the crew is questionable. But that's why I got put there, because they know me and they know my record and they're confident in my ability to change the place.
It comes at a poor time. My quarter is ending and I have stuff I need to finish. Honestly, it's not that much. I've just had alot going on that I didn't anticipate. My life seems messy and sloppy. I'm in the belly of the San Gabriel Valley now, between where I work and live. I look up at the huge picture of San Francisco in my living room and drift back home, to cold marine nights and soft streets made of hard asphalt sloping up and down. How could, of all the places I've lived, a place I never lived feel like home?