Some bourgie place with cute everyones at midnight on a Tuesday in downtown L.A., Doors blasting and Obama is back, smiles and hope all around again FOR A MOMENT. Still homeless line the streets, whole cities of cardboard boxes – as if there’s anything NOT normal about that – a billion humans living in heaps, soon to be tenfold, dung and webs and mud-caked walls, as it was now it shall be. And here the sorbet flows amidst intelligence and speech, and we ask: Where are the angels? Do they come from muck or form the luck of ages? Crawled forth from worms, we wander into doorways, and what we find determines how we shine. Please meander, and as you do, ask yourself where your shoes came from. Then run.
Richard Loranger is a writer, performer, visual artist, and all around squeaky wheel, currently residing in Oakland, CA. You can find out all about his work and scandals on his website.