kanji

22 January, 2005
meanwhile, back in the States...

well, baisse mon cul... i've discovered the Rosetta Stone. like, deciphering mac applications for internet access.

regardless, this was wednesday:

after last (tuesday) night's pity session, my last intention was to travel in the same direction... it's too much like crapping in your pants, and not immediately changing them and going through a thorough disinfection. not that that's a common scenario... i'm way too retentive for that to be.
instead, consciousness arrived with the awareness that it was entirely too quiet for northern virginia. scanning through the weather radar site before escaping the gulag early this morning, the unmistakeable wave of blue encroaching from the norhtwest made it obvious that i'd be dealing with something frozen falling from the skies.
and so it has come to be.
after trotting through the condo in irish fisherman's sweater and boxer briefs (and socks... i'm not crazy over cold feet), the requlisite trance-like assembly of coffee, and proper dressing during the wait, i stumbled to the glass doors of the balcony. tiny, barely perceptable flakes had already transformed all of the colour with an application of white to the palette.
i lit up my first AmericanSpirit from that three-story height, outside, once further adding layers. competing with what passes for silence, the low-frequency hum of thousands of rooftop HVAC units... and faint howl of wind through the brown web of branches and trunks. sitting on the emotional fence... between spellbound by the beauty of it all and the horror of having to travel in it... from overhead blurred the motion of wings and grey feathers.
fifteen feet away, perched in the skeleton of an immense locust tree, a red-tailed hawk began to assay the scene. body motionless, head always pivoting in all directions. nature finds its way in the belly of the urban whale. that handily casts aside the weight that's been riding my shoulders like a demon.
while typing this, i stole a glance over these same shoulders to the window... imperceptibly, the swirl of snow had mutated to a cyclone of fat flakes, trapped with the wind over the peculiar surfaces of this seventies-style architectural conflagration of angles.
the hawk has disappeared, probably drawn to something more interesting... and tasty.
and i am drawn to the brown/black eyes of AudreyTatou on the dvd behind this monitor... and the stack of wine bottles in th rack on the floor. repelled by the talk on the NPR about the inauguration (the expense, the influence, the propaganda, the self-aggrandisement, the arrogance), twenty-four hours from now, twenty miles away.
it figures. finishing the MotorcycleDiaries in the wee hours left a hangover from yesterday's ill feelings.
i wonder where the corkscrew is?

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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