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I had made my decision. It was official. The start of today's ride home would be soundtracked by Justin Timberlake's Futuresex/Lovesounds, Side 2. I would start with Summer Love and let it play til the end. No Sexyback, no What Goes Around Comes Around; Nope. I was in the mood for what the latter half of his disc had to offer. Out I go. Day is done. Feels good. Thursday has come to an end, and after tomorrow so will another work week. Wow. Where did this week go? Whatever. Let's just get away from the Westside. Walk towards the crosswalk. Thumb going round and round, head glued to the screen, not looking up, only looking down. F. Futuresex/Lovesounds. Select. Thumb goes round and round. Bam. Summer Love. iPod goes in pocket, head goes up. The intersection of Olympic and Bundy is its usual gridlocked mess and it's my turn to cross the street. Only my path is blocked. And why wouldn't it be? It's one of those situations where people make sure they get through that arrow the traffic light gave them, even if it blocks the folks who are trying to go in the other direction as they sit and wait on the world to change. Well what do we have here? Young couple. Caucasian. White truck. Male and female. Male just so happens to be behind the wheel. He's bald. In the back of the truck sits a tiny flagpole. Attached to said flagpole: a large Confederate Flag blowing in the wind. Where am I again? Look up. Oh yeah, Olympic and Bundy. On the Westside. On the outskirts of Santa Monica. Right. Almost forgot. Because traffic is not moving, this truck sits in the crosswalk, just the tip, meaning I would have to walk in front of it. Yeah...I think I'll take the north/south route and pass on that one. There's always another light, and hey, a brotha can wait.
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