dirty old town

this is the best day I've had, since yesterday. after moving downtown (Los Angeles) last month, the squalor and incessant scent of human feces coupled with morbid dreariness on every block in the skids, had been an ideal juxtaposition to my all too, way too, nice dwelling and coupling. in this instance i chose to vacate the states and seek out international independence and skateboarding abroad. these are the days. as my plane was landing at heathrow, the rhythm of 'London Calling' started unconsciously playing on repeat in the background of my thoughts, perhaps to be expected. Much like, i'd imagine a hippie on a psychedelic trip would have 'white rabbit' churning over and over without reprise. this three pounds of plaster on my left hand is becoming torturous and by the way it feels it's not doing it's job at all, broken bones and international travel don't couple well at all. you are a surefire target for the TMA . they see you as a most certain drug mule with a cast on your hand which is, no doubt, full of drugs. sick the dogs on him! land and wait. hopefully some kind soul will tell me where the death house is. clueless and homeless, where am i?