and then you realize how tired you are. not really sleepy, because you've drank enough coffee to sweat without heat. but you're snotty and impatient in a way that offends even you. sun shines sideways across empty parking lots, barely above the horizon. birds sing and squirrels frolic. and the only cafe open is a fucking Starbucks, and it's packed with earnest fresh-faced folk, and a tiny child body-slams your legs while you're over-sweetening your caffeinated beverage, and you blurt out "god damn it, what the fuck?" before you can stop yourself.
and the day continues from there. people are too kind and too patient. you make a mental dossier of everyone you need to thank for putting up with you. the air is warm. the sky gets dark. the bus driver smiles conspiratorially and doesn't notice your expired transfer. you walk home from downtown. people smile back. a guy chases you halfway down the block to hand you an Obama pin "if you promise to wear it." the lair doesn't even smell too catlike. you drink a glass of wine. you read about the shakers and how they'd eat segregated by gender, silently, quickly, praying before and after their meals. iTunes crashes on your shitty laptop and you don't care hardly at all. the phrase "fuck it, man" enters your head, and it's freeing as hell.
-the bus stop in West Seattle.
-the latest photo of the crispy miss.
"not only do we have money, but we live in Disneyland, where we spend large bagfuls of that money. we also enjoy good booze, lots of sex, we get to shoot everybody we don't like, we drive shiny cars really fast and occasionally jump them through burning buildings or over police barricades, we exercise on big machines that look like UFOs, and we love Jesus. we are proud of these facts, and we advertise them 24 hours a day, all over the world."
-Luis Alberto Urrea
No comments:
Post a Comment