Down the Rabbit Hole

The sun is shining today, and although it is still only 32 degrees, I believe I'm going to brave the elements and take the dogs to the dog park. My mood is light today and I feel better then I have for a while.

Here is an excerpt from my writing class.
A 20 minute free writing exercise.

L.A., the land of the preternatural sunset, always invigorated the girl at that particular time of the day. The evening cool and the smog was no longer visually slathering the sky in a grey-yellow chalky smear. The time was ripening up like an old bushel of apples, the aromatic, excitement of good turning bad. Bad, certainly was in the eye of the beholder, a judgment call of right and wrong. How would those apple seeds ever sprout new trees laden with succulent fruit, if the rotting ceased to be.

The girl rolled out of bed onto the shaggy carpet and stretched her naked cat like body, sleep slowly crumbled from her eyes. Her head felt like the whole marching band was still playing feverishly in the confines of her cranium. Such was the result of way to many Harvey Wall Bangers the night before. The cure was moments away in the little vial in her purse. Maybe, if the fuzzy haired Italian that slept with her every night had not found it first. He wasn’t much for sharing.

As she scattered the contents of her purse on the floor, wiggling the toes in the shag, the contents of the vial twinkled out of the bottom of the Coach bag. The joy of the find set up euphoria and relief that erupted in every cell of her body. Her head rolled slightly to the side and drool formed in the corners of her pouty tender lips. Somewhere a saxophone played a mournful Charlie Parker tune, inspiring her self inflicted angst.

I am a slow typist!