Sometimes when I run, jog or whatever you want to call it at night, I notice things. The city always seems so full yet so empty at night.
The main things I notice are called people.
I might run by an old rich man with a young actress both thriving off each others lives.
I run by a Beverly Hills housewife that’s had too much plastic surgery, uncomfortable with the process of aging,
Or the Audi/BMW dealership that never seems to have any customers, and the desperate yet hopeful salesmen lining its asphalt pockets.
Finally, there’s the perfect ten model that looks me down like I’m just some sweaty mess in the 7/11 buying Gatorade.
Are any of these people better than me? Are they more or less ‘fake’ as they call it in the old LA “stereotypes”?
I’m not better or more ‘real’. We are all as real as we want to be, and we all have a bit of fakeness that hides in all of us. I am often reminded in these moments that we all-each one of us-are only acting out the things that keep us human.
Perhaps when we stop acknowledging each other is when we will all fade into nothing. Like it or not, this is all we have-all of us right here.
It’s still called life, and it’s still a precious thing.
On another note Santa Fe was very cold in December. I liked it.