novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Category: Games defer to the screech owl or the horny toad. each will hand you, on a silver platter, bad metaphors ripe with connotation denoting the adolescence of adulthood. holy comparison it won't stop raining cars outside. i'm sick of the freeway at my window. "give it some time and it will sound just like the ocean." but the 24 seems to have no real tide. there are no sets of waves, unless you count rush hour, which lasts all day and only seems to ebb in the middle of the night. night which is closer to very early morning. when the neighbors start shouting at each other on our doorstep and nobody i know rides their bike past. we wake up to dried lakes of beer and dusty fast food containers. but back to animal euphamisms for our hormones. that always makes you laugh. "the manatee." "a crocodile with a top hat on." "a crow steals the top hat..." "and gives it to the manatee..." who, having no use for hats in the ocean, gently rolls a jelly flip under the soup of the freeway overpass. remember when we lived by the giraffes painted on the 580? remember the unitarian church with the organ bigger than a uhaul, and how it would wake our sundays up? only halfway, sleeping through a sunday you wake up and it's the phantom of the opera meets 20,000 leagues under the sea meets religion. and i'd saunter down to albertson's and buy frozen pizza that tastes like cardboard. i miss that organ and i miss living down the block from the 24 hour hotcake house in portland. i miss my little in-law and my half-cat (the one i shared with the four year old neighbor down the street.) nostalgia distracts. good thing the freeway outside my window is a constant drone, punctuated by sirens and the bart. things to do
11:43 pm - 04.03.07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||