Fire in the Skull

A terrible heat-wave has hit Los Angeles and Culver City has not been spared. My room is like a furnace and I am baked in the center of it on my bed, my great boat of books and pillows. I am likely to catch fire and everything will go up in a burning inferno and nothing will be left of me.

I guess there is evidence of my life extending beyond my body and these four walls, evidence laced in memories rooted in others. Others. God grant me a cool breeze and the ability to get out of here.