It isn't the obvious that I'm referring to, nor is this some depressing emo shit. I look around where I live, that bastion of the uberfabulous. The young and fashionable shop Melrose at 2:30 on a Tuesday, spending money and I with no idea on how they get it. Do they work at night, have an odd schedule where Tuesdays and Wednesdays are their weekends? How many of the beautiful people are there like this? It confuses me to no end.
I had Subway for dinner, stopping on my way home after another day at work. Front of me stood a tall fit couple, their affection (more likely uninformed lust) clogging the air like Cairo smog. The non-ironic multiple use of the word "bro" when addressing the guy behind the counter. The 5th grade humor of the woman, thinking she's more clever than she'll ever be. The attractive becoming ever more repulsive. These Eloi, these beneficiaries of God's lottery, flittering away their existence on counting carbs and cracking jokes about "breastesises". Never leaving the shallow end of the pool, not afraid but simply unaware of deeper waters.
Los Angeles is a town of many faces, with bodies to match. A jagged mosaic where the seeds are sown for what Wells' Time Traveller witnessed. Not yet prey, these beautiful people have already turned into cattle. Call it Grass Is Always Greener, say there is nothing perfect in this world, but in the choice between beauty and truth, I choose truth every time.
It is the ones who escape Plato's cave that become the Morlocks, for they have seen the world and found it real.
(This is what happens when I listen to the new Muse album on the way home from work).
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