Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Friday, August 7, 2009

the girl cannot catch a break

While walking around Valencia street yesterday, my head generally disarrayed, thinking about how much I hate interacting with people and their damn brain problems and wondering if I will ever have any kind of relationship with anyone that is ever balanced and fair where I am not giving too much and they are not expecting too hard and we are just fucking having a great time being our godamn selves...
My head full of these bullshitaria thoughts and I hear this squeeky-squeeky, like a bathtub duck. squeeky-sqeeky! I was in the crosswalk with two terse looking construction men who had eagerly been discussing what I could only assume was adultery or money laundering, with such faces as the asphalt we walked on at that very moment, frowny and cracked and ready for something hard as hell to happen.
squeaky! sqeeeeaaakkk!
This girl on a bike whizzes by making this crying-clown sound like a birthday party in the pool and everyone gets some icecream cake. and these two men turn to eachother and smile and start laughing, and that makes me laugh and then they smile at me and we are all grinning like fools in the crosswalk as the light changes because this girl has squeaked us right out of our cesspool minds and for a split second we are just laughing at the sound of a squeaky horn.

I saw no less than four pairs of love addled hipsters acting generally like ass holes on my way back, after failing to find the necessary paperbacks at Dogeared Books.
I was mentally adding up the meals I'd had alone in public recently (7), the number of times I'd heard from people I care about lately (2) the new friends I'd made so far (0) and the goals I have accomplished (0). Then dividing that by how long it would take to work up the nerve to fall out of a window (17 days if all of them were spent not thinking about falling out of a window). 
When I saw an expensive car with the headlights on and thought with annoying predictability, "I hope his fucking battery dies." 
A block later, I was literally shit upon by something in the rafters of an overhang.
On average, it was a better day than most.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

exercises in futility pt. I

i passed a grocery store with balloons in the window.
cold wind. alcohol flavored. i had not been drinking. 
i don't know why the city had been.
pale red sphere. dirty yellow ones.
 dolphin shaped ones. birthday cake ones.they were floating. 
abandoned to a florescent humming light.
tomorrow maybe someone will buy them.
week later, they will be deflated. 
day after that, garbage.

i doubted and i doubted and i doubted all day
and i waited in the car
and watched a spider walk on telephone wires above my head
a gray sky behind him
got out to see
then i locked my keys in the car.
and paid forty five dollars to a mexican tow man
who cut me deal.
'usually it is sixty five, but 'chu know.'
i stared at him. i did not know. i thanked him.
i got back in the car (little spider, telephone wires)
and waited, waited.
lost my shit
then i waited some more.