idiocy
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
and then sometimes you look around and notice that you're in somebody's totally cool book/plot line, but are unsure that you're cool enough for it to be yours....but the people in the front seat denied ownership, and so...suddenly, you're folded into the back seat of a 1970 bmw2002 that reminds me lovingly of a lil panzer, 'cept that it's in the color of atlantik blau instead,
there is a ransom driving
the magnetic fields "69 lovesongs..." we think it's vol. 2?? is/are playing
and a lara warplane is in the passenger seat in her paying-attention glasses
proffering black licorice
and i am leaning up against some autocross tires
and it's midnight-something
and it's portland and abandoned and empty
and totally lonely in that lovely way that it sometimes does
and cold enough for tight jean jackets
and tho you know you are 17 revisited, you don't mind so much, cause the river is pretty
and there is another small joy in the form of a small glow-in-the-dark light up ghost pen
and then you walk in your front door and lose an hour.
i swear it was just just 12:30, but no.
and so now i leave for the airport for Paris in less than 4 hours
and still somehow have to shower
and finish the dishes
and shoehorn everything small and black
into an overnight bag, cause it's really just a long weekend.
*ding!* and "Young Frankenstein" is among the best silly movies ever. EVER! just ask mr brett estey. sighs.
anybody know anyone in paris who will drink with me between 8pm and 2 am when my friend is working?
or at least recommend any good punk bars?
so, if it is quiet here on the western front, it's cause i am gone, i'll be back in a week and broke and then you'll be sick of me and my drunken ramblings....
and now someone else is home usptairs, i should leave the basement and my glass of wine and go be productive so that i make my plane...