The Crazy Girl (Yes, LA has personality)

I was walking along a side-street a while ago, on the way to get food from a nearby restaurant. The streets around Hollywood were closed off due to a parade, and there were cars parked and people wandering everywhere. It was early evening, just starting to get dark.

As I was walking, I heard someone talking a close distance behind me. I tried to ignore it. Then I realized they were repeating themselves over and over again.

It was a girl’s voice, and she was saying “He can’t say that to me. He can’t say that to me. He can’t say that to me.”

Then a car drove by. The girl’s voice stopped for a second, then started up again: “That car almost hit me. That car almost hit me. That car almost hit me.” (We were both on the sidewalk, well out of reach of any cars.)

I glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of this strange person. She looked like a homeless girl, walking by herself and carrying a ragged backpack. She noticed me and asked if I had a cigarette. “Sorry, don’t smoke,” I said.

“You’re gay. You’re gay. You’re gay…”

Uh, sure, I’ll just keep walking like before…

Then she changed her outgoing message again. “I’m crazy. I’m crazy. I’m crazy.”

Right you are.