novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the laundromat, otherwise known as purgatory doing laundry makes you pensive. you find yourself waiting or in transition, standing in a balmy high-ceilinged room, surrounded by large whirring machines and televisions bolted to the walls. you are staring at the screen nearest you, reading the closed captions not really to follow along to any storyline but to catch typos, because you have suddenly formed a theory about syndicated shows versus talk and live shows and the varying degrees of closed captioning copy editing quality. you read, you wander, you write obtuse letters, you doodle. you feel the static from the dryer hit your cheeks when you open the door and pull out your dried clothes, rubbing the warm cotton between your fingers, the fabric softener is almost palpable. you decide to write something fascinating later, but after you haul your basket outside, rubbing your eyes from the lint floating in the air, you've forgotten what about. 1:59 am - 07.28.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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