novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- folding and folding and folding the televisions bolted to the walls at woody's laundromat on the corner have better reception than ours so i marveled at their lack of snow while my worldly clothes separated by colour spun nearby. the manager of woody's is terribly nice; i am inadvertently the last customer there, folding and folding my clothes, fast as i can to get out by eleven so he won't get frustrated. he folds my sheets with me, holding the center of the fold neatly under his chin. as i walk away carting everything he calls after me WHERE IS YOUR CAR? YOU LIVE AROUND HERE? i say yes, just up the block and he shakes his head at me, knowing before i do that i'll have to stop and set everything down every fifteen paces in order to breathe. laundromat managers. they've seen it all. and what have you seen? a fat girl in flip flops with big hair sweating over newly washed clothes as you walk past her? a tall thin indie rock guy frowned at me like i was committing a crime. 12:46 am - 06.05.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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