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scene one: how to waste a lovely morning on the previous evening, expend as much mental effort as possible in the attempt to look busy, stay below the radar of the Cracker Overlord, and seethe whenever possible about how many employees are being shown the door. the front door, next to "Human Resources"... which i like to refer to as "Soylent Green". it's People! arrive home after ninety minutes of white line fever, scored by the soundtrack to KillBill. because allegorical action movie incidental music is made to melt miles by. at 4AM, screen the lastest episode of 24 whilst savoring the sweet, frothy intoxication of Young'sWaggledance. awake two hours after with a bladder that imitates the eruptive properties of Kilauea, strained through a staggering erection. it don't pass fast, when you're still officially asleep. awake, officially... twelve minutes before noon. much more than was necessary to know, i grant you. scene two: the Wrath of Mom it was Pity Party at the homestead, begun with an impassioned plea for help uncrating her pool... ostensibly, to get more sun on the just-healed pre-cancerous scrapings from the year before. on arrival, first, the mower must be fixed... water in the gas tank and carburetor, gloppy ignition switch. and the wiper blades on the previously tree-flattened Ford need replacing. leave after timing her pool-filling session, since she didn't have her watch... achieved by painfully pointing the spray wand from the lawn chair. and not spilling the BlackRussian. remember, you can't pick your relatives. and it's down to us two. scene three: Return of the Prodigal DJ once back at home, immediately down some hummus&chips, and set sights on CVille for a visit to the studio... that i temporarily vacated for two+ months of "mental health time". notice that the same CDs from six months ago remain in the "new" drawer. and nothing really "new" is in there. notice, too, on the eve of a fund drive, that my two favorite office ladies are hard at work, at 6PM, in preparation. absent, fat ass studio manager. going back will be just like riding a bike. with no seat, just the post sticking out of the frame. no sitting! d�nouement: all of the discomforts of the past day are balanced by: 1. hearing a mockingbird do the bootycall at two AM, walking across the car park to leave. you know winter has gone bye-bye when the wildlife is still thinking about getting-it-on well after the bars are closed. 2. still getting worked up by a well-acted, well-crafted, kickass "roaring rampage of revenge" film (two, really). there is hope for entertainment. Uma gets three thumbs up. 3. seeing the expressions on the faces of the Jamaican restaurant owners when you gift them with the painting of HaileSelassie that you rescued from the secondhand store. and cleaned up a bit. and restretched the canvas. occasionally, things do fit together. minus the scars. |
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