Or,
If Brittany can do it, then I can too.
Recently, a dear and far away friend broke up with 2003. It was tasteful and dignified, it seems to have gone really well for them.
I am not her. My new realtionship with 2004 is being FedExed to Hell on a handcart, and I want out right now. I need to get this marriage annulled, and I keep thinking I should have done it at the 55 hour mark. I've already changed the locks, and thrown all this year's shit out the window. I've been cutting up the pictures of us after blacking out the year with a magic marker. I burned all the year's letters, and I'm keeping all it's cd's. What could this year have done that could have been so awful? Here's the list.
I turned 30. This was not supposed to happen to me.
I found the first gray hair. Plus, one big thick black one on my back. What's next, ear hair?
I lost my wallet, so now I have no ID. I'm old as hell and I still can't get into bars or buy beer.
I broke my glasses Now they sit crooked on my face.
The Ivory Cat got burglarized. The guy had clearly cased the joint, knew how to get past our security measures, and then drank a can of our grapefruit juice and left it behind withhis fingerprints all over it. Jackass.
The City shut down the bar two days later A broken water main cost us one whole nights business, not to mention I only made 13 dollars in tips before they made us shut it down. Assholes. At least it reopened the next day.
So, anyone know a good divorce lawyer, 'cause this year sucks, and it's only 23 days old. I haven't left my room since I got up this morning, and I'm not sure I want to.
Jan 23, 2004
Jan 19, 2004
On a little bit of spring cleaning in the middle of winter
I sort of cleaned up the negative space around here a little, I hope it looks less jumbled.
Also, I love playing with colors. It's a bit of an homage to Mark and chimchim dark.
"You don't know the Power of the Dark Side, my son." Man, I'm a geek.
So, whaddaya think?
Also, I love playing with colors. It's a bit of an homage to Mark and chimchim dark.
"You don't know the Power of the Dark Side, my son." Man, I'm a geek.
So, whaddaya think?
Jan 11, 2004
On Seeing Someone you didn't expect
or,
The Big Cloudwrangler in the Sky
A man wakes up from a troubled sleep in the passenger seat of an old car, driving down a long, dusty desert highway. The world is sun-drenched, dry, and yellowed, all except the woman driving the car. She's wearing faded comfortable jeans, a red and black baby doll tee shirt, and no shoes. Her skin is sliky smooth and white, and her jet black, shining hair is pulled up and away from her face. The man blearily wipes his eyes, scratches his scruffy unshaven face, shuffles a hand through his unkempt hair, and looks dreamily out the passenger side window. Slowly creeping up in the next lane is an old square behemoth of a car, a Buick or Lincoln, possibly a Cadiallac. It has certainly seen better days. The car is painted bumper to rusty bumper in spotty brown and white, like an old Palomino horse in the Westerns. Driving the car, so short that his head barely appears over the driver side door in the window, is a smiling little boy, about 9 years old, with a dark ruffled pageboy haircut. He looks over at the man and smiles a little boys big, broad smile. One of his front teeth is missing. The man in the passenger seat squints in just-awakened confusion and disbelief. The little boy gives him an excited, flailing, whole-arm little boy's wave. As he waves with his left hand, his right still on the wheel, the car slowly veers off the road and away into the surrounding desert, a long blazing cloud of dust trailing in its wake, driving ever steadily towards the horizon. The man says sleepily and confused to the girl, "Where the hell are we?" and she replies, "Baby, I have no idea." With a last look out the window at the cloud of dust and the Palomino car vanishing away in the distance towards a dusty, yellow nowhere, the man shrugs absently and hunkers down to go back to sleep.
I bet seeing God is kind of like that.
The Big Cloudwrangler in the Sky
A man wakes up from a troubled sleep in the passenger seat of an old car, driving down a long, dusty desert highway. The world is sun-drenched, dry, and yellowed, all except the woman driving the car. She's wearing faded comfortable jeans, a red and black baby doll tee shirt, and no shoes. Her skin is sliky smooth and white, and her jet black, shining hair is pulled up and away from her face. The man blearily wipes his eyes, scratches his scruffy unshaven face, shuffles a hand through his unkempt hair, and looks dreamily out the passenger side window. Slowly creeping up in the next lane is an old square behemoth of a car, a Buick or Lincoln, possibly a Cadiallac. It has certainly seen better days. The car is painted bumper to rusty bumper in spotty brown and white, like an old Palomino horse in the Westerns. Driving the car, so short that his head barely appears over the driver side door in the window, is a smiling little boy, about 9 years old, with a dark ruffled pageboy haircut. He looks over at the man and smiles a little boys big, broad smile. One of his front teeth is missing. The man in the passenger seat squints in just-awakened confusion and disbelief. The little boy gives him an excited, flailing, whole-arm little boy's wave. As he waves with his left hand, his right still on the wheel, the car slowly veers off the road and away into the surrounding desert, a long blazing cloud of dust trailing in its wake, driving ever steadily towards the horizon. The man says sleepily and confused to the girl, "Where the hell are we?" and she replies, "Baby, I have no idea." With a last look out the window at the cloud of dust and the Palomino car vanishing away in the distance towards a dusty, yellow nowhere, the man shrugs absently and hunkers down to go back to sleep.
I bet seeing God is kind of like that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)