Living in Mordor

One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.

One does not simply walk into Los Angeles. One drives. And badly. While there aren't orcs, there are plently of orc-like Armenians who would rather kill you than tip you for any service. There is an evil here that does not sleep - traffic. It is a barren wasteland with skinny squirrels, no rivers, drought, in addition to the standard fire, ash, and dust. Taking a deep breath any morning this week is like breathing in a poisonous fume. Tens of thousands of people come every year, only to watch their dreams crushed. It is folly.

The only difference is that LA lacks any sort of great eye. Instead, everyone is invisible but massive. We run into one another, but not in a Whitman-esque sphere-of-the-soul way. We run into each other as invisible duffelpods like the creatures in the Chronicles of Narnia. Single-minded, sad, and living in some mass status quo that not only crushes dreams, but manipulates those that survive into something even Langston Hughes could not have imagined for his deferred dreams.

Yes, I live in Mordor. And I have no Frodo to my Sam, and nothing vice-versa. I entered the black gate alone, so no one will know if I survive or not.

Perhaps I should figure out what the proverbial ring is in my life, that way I have, at the very least, a goal for its destruction. As it stands right now, I'm wandering the wasteland, breathing in the toxins, and all I think of is the home I may or may not see again.

But then again, the hobbits made it out alive, so why can't I?