Tuesday, June 29, 2004

in the evenings, i ease my old car up the steep drive. where the concrete ends, there is gravel. a hole sits in this stone estuary, worn deeper after each summer storm by runoff from the roof.

when the hole is filled with rainwater, i sometimes catch small brown birds standing in the water. they give three quick shakes, trying to get water under their feathers, before flying off.

i swing my wheels clear of the hole and listen to the stones crunch beneath my tires. all four of the building's tenants park under the same enormous tree. it is near this tree that a family of ants has taken up residence.

in the mornings, i often see a few of them crawling across my windshield. they either wake up very early to crawl up the tires or they parachute down from the limbs of the tree. i don't think about them very often since they usually stay on the outside of my car. lately though, they started coming inside.

the other day i pushed six of them down with my thumb. i left their bodies scattered around as an example to the others; i'm no jain. they still returned.

i vacuumed out the entire car but only found pebbles and paperclips and pieces of string, no errant slabs of chocolate cake or anything else that might attract a family of ants.

at the grocery store, i passed the aisle with the ant traps. one box promised to lure ants into the trap where they would eat the poison and then return to their lair to kill the queen. i laughed, picturing an army of zombie ants ambling clumsily toward the queen the same way human zombies would-- one of us, one of us. i didn't think that enticing possibly even more ants into my car was the right solution, so i left the box there.

it was about this time that a very attractive young woman wheeled her shopping cart toward my own. i looked up to see that she was smiling at me, so i smiled back. just then her eyes glided over to the shelves which, in addition to the ant traps, also held large cans of roach spray and shiny boxes containing pellets of rat poison. i saw the corners of her mouth fade just a few degrees. she fought hard to maintain her smile as she passed.

now the ants weren't only responsible for infesting my vehicle, but they were also impeding on my chances with girls. dang you, ants!

i think i'll just park on the street, away from the tree, and see if that helps.

last seen: easy riders raging bulls
last heard: bebel gilberto 'tanto tempo'
last read: if Karl Rove had his way, they'd still be dragging the body back and forth across the country in the bed of a Ford F-150 pickup, stopping at county fairs, right up till the election.

Sunday, June 27, 2004

i stopped at the grocery store yesterday in an attempt to wrangle as many cardboard boxes out of them as i could. the young woman in customer service informed me that, while they had no boxes at the moment, if i would be so kind as to leave my name and telephone number, along with the quantity of boxes i would need, then saturday evening's stockpeople would set them aside for me. all she asked was that i be there around 8AM on sunday morning to pick them up.

naturally, i wasn't very excited about waking up at 7:45 on the sabbath, but i needed those boxes. i splashed water on my face and drove down the block to pick them up this morning. when i arrived, another young woman was working at the customer service desk and she told me that there were no boxes for me.

this would be the part where i practiced patience and deep breathing techniques and dropping the hot coals from my hands.

the woman apologized to me and i told her that i was disappointed but that i understood it wasn't her fault. so i bought a sunday paper and, since i was already awake, i beat the crowd to the laundromat. i tried to think-- where might a young man score some empty boxes on a sunday morning, when the liquor store is closed, the grocery store is out, and it is the weekend before he is moving?

as i folded my last t-shirt, i remembered the recycling bins at the park. i drove there hoping to find some boxes that hadn't been rained on. a husband and wife were unloading their van as i pulled up. the man called out to me, it sure is hard to get all of these boxes in the bins when the workers haven't been here to unload them in a while. they are packed full!


not five seconds later we were shaking hands and loading his boxes into the back of my car. turns out they had just moved to town.

sometimes it's true what people say: god doesn't close a door in your face without leaving you a window to jump out of...or something like that.

last seen: hud
last heard: 14 iced bears 'balloon song'
last read: The Park Bench Where You Eat Your Lunch Will Be Your Bed Someday

Saturday, June 26, 2004

i helped the brothers engelbrecht move their parents into a new place yesterday, just a few miles from their previous residence. there wasn't too much that we were responsible for since professional movers were coming to transport the larger, heavier items on saturday morning.

in appreciation for our help, mama and papa E took us to dinner. our still-wet-behind-the-ears waitress turned the evening into a comedy of errors. she returned from the kitchen more than once to tell us that they were out of whichever item we had just requested. one of the items was banana pudding; it was, curiously, included in the list of vegetables that you could choose from.

the highlight of the evening, however, occurred halfway through our meal. papa E asked the waitress if he could put in an order to-go; she pulled out her order pad, then asked him if she could borrow a pen to write the order down. we all felt bad that she was having such a horrible night, so we kept making her laugh and reassuring her that we were a casual lot and that things would be alright.

today, the brothers and i met for a matinee screening of michael moore's latest opus. during the ride over, i wondered aloud how the turnout for such a film would be in our conservative, national-banking-headquarters, town. would folks be picketing? would they throw eggs at us? would we be the only three people in the theater?

i was already dumbfounded that several local giganta-plexes were showing the film, in the opening week no less, since documentaries are often relegated to our city's one art-house theater. they do it that way, so that they can keep all of us pinkos in one part of town.

boy, was i surprised. the movie was almost completely sold out and it was the first film i've ever been to where audience members actually cheered and clapped as the closing credits rolled. there may be hope for humanity yet...then again, i'm pretty sure garfield was playing on seven screens.

last seen: fahrenheit 9/11, city of god [editor's note: i missed this film when it was at the theatre. it is on DVD now and definitely worth two hours of your day.]
last heard: eazy-e 'boyz-n-the hood'
last read: michael chabon the mysteries of pittsburgh
reading: colson whitehead john henry days

Thursday, June 24, 2004

while trawling the internet over a bowl of cereal this morning, i stumbled [via kottke] onto a new york times list called the 1,000 best movies ever made. i was curious and ended up printing the list off and ticking a little red dot beside the ones i'd seen. my final tally was 305. it might be a little higher, because there were a few titles i didn't recognize. i'll have to do some research to know for sure whether i've seen them.

305 sounds respectable, almost a third of the list anyway. it reminded me just how many really big films i haven't seen. i'm looking at you, patton and the piano and barton fink. the good news is i now have 695 films to add to my netflix queue.

reading through the list, i was also happily reminded of the great films that i had seen, many in just the past few years.

i am always eager to hear what movies other folks like, so go read the list of one thousand and leave a few of your favorites in my comments. below are twenty-one of my mine for the next time you go to the video store and you don't want to rent krull or beastmaster 2 again.

all that heaven allows (1956)
the apartment (1960)
badlands (1973)
black narcissus (1947)
bullitt (1968)
coal miner's daugher (1980)
the conversation (1974)
down by law (1986)
faces (1968)
fitzcarraldo (1982)
his girl friday (1940)
jules et jim (1962)
the last picture show (1971)
the man who came to dinner (1941)
network (1976)
serpico (1973)
stranger than paradise (1984)
sullivan's travels (1941)
the taking of pelham one two three (1974)
tender mercies (1983)
woman of the year (1942)

[editor's note: i'm sure i'll think of other glaring omissions, but i just noticed that paper moon wasn't on the list of one thousand and you really should see it.]

last heard: stereolab 'john cage bubblegum'
last read: your admirer, your defender, your most devoted sycophant.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

the city has weeks like this one every summer. day after day that starts off clear and warm and, by five, everything is dark and the skies open up. walking to my car, i could see a wall of greyish black to the west, miles and miles across. long thin sheets of light peeked from around the sides of that grey wall, reminding me that the sun was going down, even if i couldn't see it.

i sat at an intersection uptown, waiting for a light to change, when the clouds finally crested my car. women in fancy office clothes and sneakers scurried down the sidewalks; their hands clutched around their more painful and more pretty, strappy, delicate shoes. each one kept looking over her shoulder up into the sky, eyes wide, the way japanese people used to when godzilla was coming.

by the time the rain started to fall, most abandoned any obedience to traffic signals and ran, sopping and helpless, between idling cars. i rolled down my window and held out my arm, watching each fat drop mat the thin dark hairs.

last seen: the taking of pelham one two three
last heard: dean martin 'i'm gonna paper all my walls with your love letters'
last read: "Kansas," writes Frank, "is ready to lead us singing into the apocalypse."
bonus: the political compass [thanks, ruth]

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

the boss is in orlando all week, so she asked me to attend a meeting yesterday in her stead. it was a breakfast hosted by our local community-development group, an organization comprised primarily of area business leaders, but which also includes some non-profit types, a handful of residents, and a few po-pos. from what i heard that morning, it is a pro-active civic group and i'm glad the library and nearby high schools are represented.

roughly twenty of us braved a torrential downpour to meet at this mom-and-pop restaurant not far from the library. the place is open for lunch and dinner only, so, at 8AM, we had it to ourselves. our congressman was the special guest speaker and he was right behind me in the buffet line. i met him as i was spooning out my grits. he shook my hand and patted me on the shoulder and said his name. i thought, it must be weird to introduce yourself, tell people your name, when everyone already knows who you are. i felt the same way the inmates at folsom must have felt, when a man, they had all gathered there to see, got on stage and said, hi, i'm johnny cash. you don't say?

after the grits and biscuits and gravy, after chatting with a doctor and a PR intern and a boardmember from a local non-profit, i sat there cradling my brown ceramic coffee cup and just listened. the congressman got up and started to expound about business corridors, how they are typically thought of as a way to get from one place to another place, and development often occurs without regard for the people living in the area. he talked about the need for more residential space, the residents of which would help support the businesses along the corridor. i liked that he articulated the importance of community and how zoning can impact the cohesion of neighborhoods; i can only hope it wasn't lip service and politics.

a couple of other things impressed me, too. first was the fact that, since 1995, he has been starting pitcher for the Democratic team in the annual congressional baseball game and has thrice won MVP honors. second, when we left the breakfast, i noticed that he was driving himself around town and he had a hybrid instead of one of those huge tinted SUVs that you expect elected officials to barrel around in.

last seen: the true meaning of pictures, sophie's choice, shampoo
last heard: 10,000 maniacs 'the painted desert'
last read: ...and his last big love, Jeanne Hebuterne, a daughter of the French bourgeoisie who had fled to art school in the big city, borne his child and leapt to her death from the window of the fifth-floor garret they shared, the night after Modi died.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

last night i went to a screening of super size me and, as i mentioned in a previous post, i recently finished reading my year of meats. it was simply a weird coincidence, but they were like a one-two punch. walking out of the theater, i thought about reading fast food nation next; you know, hit the crappy-american-diet media trifecta, but i think i'll pass. the film did get me reconsidering my diet though, which, in my defense, does not include a whole lot of fast food to begin with.

when i first went away to college in the early nineties, my sister was just starting high school and she decided to become a vegetarian. if i remember correctly, she was about two years into it before she convinced me to try it, too. for the first couple of years i was very faithful, then i let fish creep back into my diet. two years after that, i was backsliding even farther. soon it was only--i don't eat red meat--and i stuck to that for about nine years. this allowed me to partake of fried chicken which, for the uninitiated, is pretty close to a religion in the southern united states. being a male vegetarian was especially difficult here. people stared at you like you'd joined a cult or drove a japanese-made pickup.

i am convinced that it is much harder to be a vegetarian in certain parts of the country. in my experience, the south is probably the hardest. the food is not only good, but it is such a part of the culture of the place. i'm pretty sure the rest of the country just boils everything and so folks turn to vegetarianism because they don't like boiled food.

last seen: super size me
last heard: april march 'moto shagg'
last read, jealously: everyone's decemberists recaps
bonus: check out this punk-ass

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

of split shifts, bookclubs, and tiny marshmallows

there's something to be said for working eight consecutive hours. i never really appreciate it until i have the odd schedule like i did today. i spent the first part, 8am-3pm, at my usual library-- running a staff meeting, photocopying stuff, catching up on email, working in reference. after that, i had this huge block of time off before heading to my former library to lead my bookclub from 7-9pm. i promised the bosses there that i'd continue it until august as i'd selected titles through the summer.

the long break gave me time to catch up on a couple of errands, have a leisurely lunch, and catch a matinee. the film let out with just enough time to pick up a new pair of sneakers before bookclub.

it has been over fifteen years since i bought a pair of old canvas chuck taylors. i discovered that inflation over the intervening years has pushed these shoes from the twenty dollar to the thirty dollar bracket-- either that or i got completely fleeced at the no-name strip mall shoe store i visited. i know there are alternatives, but i just had a hankering for a pair. it's summertime, after all.

bookclub was great as usual. the woman from spain showed up for the second month in a row; that, plus the fact that we had a brand-new member, made me very happy. one person disliked the book, but he was the sole dissenter in a sea of seven other voices. in fact, he couldn't finish it, such was his disdain for the novel-- life is too short for bad wine and bad books, he said. still, i was glad that he showed up to balance the discussion.

in other book news, the final schedule was released for our library's reading festival. in past years, i've ushered for or attended lectures by joyce carol oates, billy collins, and neil gaiman. this year, i stepped up and volunteered to actually host an author. i was lucky enough to get michael chabon. hosting means i have to pick him up, shuttle him from the airport to the hotel to the venue, and maybe even have dinner with him. a buddy of mine had dinner with norman mailer a couple years back. oh, and for my trouble, i also get two tickets to the isabel allende lecture.

i win twice.

the other thing i have to do is go out on stage and make a little introduction to the audience, talk about the author's body of work. that's the part i'm kind of nervous about. i keep reminding myself that it won't matter what i say because the several hundred people will be there to hear michael chabon and not me. besides i'll make sure the spotlights are set at 1000 percent, so that i don't see anyone past the first two rows.

on a completely unrelated note, i am a huge fan of target's knock-off brand cereals. i just finished a bowl of marvelous marshmallow mysteries (AKA the poor man's lucky charms). what's not to love when it's less than two-hundred american cents per box? at those prices though, i'll bet that children from third-world countries have to carve out the little marshmallow hearts with crude stone tools for less than thirteen cents a month. maybe it's the child labor that makes 'em taste so good.

last seen: the stepford wives
last heard: the byrds 'eight miles high'
last read: ruth ozeki my year of meats
reading: michael chabon the mysteries of pittsburgh

Monday, June 14, 2004

saturday's rockabilly BBQ was in this tiny brick building, a place called puckett's farm equipment, where you can buy cheap beer and listen to music. out front is a stop light and out behind it is this shallow pond where mosquitos grow to the size of small birds. juicy fruit steered her lumbering ford around back, pulled right up to the water's edge, and we all piled out.

it was a little after eight and the food was almost done. three men stood around a large metal cooker, the kind that looks homemade like they took a black fifty-gallon drum and slapped a pair of wheels and a trailer hitch on it. a pickup truck backed up to where they stood, its gate down to serve as their work space. large aluminum trays lay across the gate, some full of pulled pork and others with whole pieces of chicken. one of the men had a pair of thick rubber gloves on that went almost up to his elbow. later i would watch him mixing the pork with his hands. those guys must have been out there for most of the afternoon, cooking food for over a hundred people.

inside, the music had yet to start, so we wandered in and looked around. it was a nice mix of people. older folks sat on the handful of vinyl-covered stools. younger people stood in tight groups of four or five, laughing. at the bar, someone had taken a sharpie and handwritten a sign on the back of a piece of cardboard-- PBR $1.50.

also, it was andy's birthday. i don't know who andy is but i was standing right next to a cake that had his name on it in black frosting. the music started not long after. it was a great night.

someone's been kind enough to post photographs already. i'll buy lunch for the first person who can spot me in this one.

last seen: saved
last heard: woody guthrie 'who's gonna shoe your pretty little feet?'
last read: There are those timid souls who say this battle cannot be won; that we are condemned to a soulless wealth. I do not agree.

Saturday, June 12, 2004

with just a couple of weeks left until i move into my new place, i spent the morning pulling out boxes and sorting through books. i was pretty good about weeding my collection when i made the big move from kansas back to north carolina three years ago. carloads of unnecessary objects found their way into many a salvation army. still, i thought this might be a chance for me to pick through the past three-years-worth of book purchases and get rid of some things.

i keep these large sturdy boxes under the stairs. they were originally made to carry apples. when i first moved back to the old north state, my parents drove down from virginia with these boxes; they were full of pots and pans and mysterious kitchen implements, but not apples.

after a morning spent fingering dusty volumes and getting sidetracked by my old high school yearbooks, i filled one of those old apple boxes with about thirty books that i could part with relatively painlessly.

getting rid of things always makes me feel good. my place ends up less cluttered and the extra cash isn't bad either. sadly, things didn't turn out that way. it took the woman at the counter twenty mintues to pick through my box, after which time, she told me that she could give me $24 in cash or $48 in trade. i left her store with a half-full box containing the titles she didn't want and $48 worth of new books. like i said, things didn't really turn out the way i'd hoped.

the story would normally end there, but...a little while later, i'm on the phone with my mom, catching up on things and telling her the little story about the books. somehow we ended up talking about the remainders, the ones the store passed on and i no longer needed. i told her that i planned to give them to a local prison library which i heard was very poorly-funded and operates almost strictly on donations. (imagine that, a poorly-funded library) the first thing my dear mother says is-- just stay in the lobby or leave the books on the front steps.

i know it is a mother's job to worry, but i think she had visions of me skipping down the halls of the penitentary, pushing a book cart, clad only in flip-flops and soap-on-a-rope.

last seen: my architect, in my skin, the films of charles and ray eames- volume 1
last heard: rilo kiley 'spectacular views'
last read: Leaving the council, and vacating an endowed chair, was not an easy decision for Maxwell, a soft-spoken, English-born, 63-year-old historian who has taught at Yale, Princeton and Columbia and who writes for The New York Review of Books.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

the other day, my new boss and i decided to carpool to a couple of afternoon engagements. as we stepped out of the sliding glass doors at the front of our branch, she started walking in the direction of her own car. i took this unspoken cue as her intent to drive which was just fine by me. i'd rather ride in her new import with its new-car smell, than subject her to my nine-year-old ford where the automatic passenger seat belt works only sometimes.

our first stop was the main library for a CIPA workshop and the second appointment was the grand opening of a new branch. it has actually been open for a couple of months, but this was the event where the press shows up to take pictures of community leaders and library people shaking hands and smiling. more importantly, this was the event when the really good caterer shows up.

as we drove around, the new boss and i talked about work stuff and family stuff in equal measure. i've been lucky enough, during my tenure in libraryland, to work with bosses that weren't all business, all the time. in the past few weeks, i've learned a lot about my new boss' childhood, her husband, and her kids, one of whom called me mister kelly on the phone the other day and made me feel very, very old.

on the way back from the grand opening, we started talking about our families again and our younger cousins and kids in general, since we work with a ton of them everyday. at one point she asked me, when are you going to have some kids? you would make a great dad.

maybe if i had a different job or a different boss, i might have been offended by such a personal question, but i doubt it. for me to be offended, i'd have to be a different person, because the only thing that question made me feel was happy. i have always wanted kids and always believed i'd make a great parent, but to hear someone else say they thought i would be good at it set a wide smile across my face.

last heard: heavens to betsy 'stay away'
last read: The veneer of honor and respect painted across the legacy of Ronald Reagan is itself a myth of biblical proportions.
reading: ruth ozeki my year of meats

Monday, June 07, 2004

summertime means gin-and-tonics. after work, i had a couple of them. the first was delicate. the woman tending bar poured it really smooth and balanced, so the lime made my mouth feel all clean; the second she poured like she meant it.

most of my friends are not drinkers. some abstain completely, others take a nip on special occasions. there's really just one who drinks like there are orphans trapped in a burning building and only his drinking will save them. even now, i don't have those in-between kinds of drinking friends, the ones who will share a bottle of wine with dinner or a sambuca afterwards. blame my friends that i could never hold my liquor, because they never gave me much practice.

it's really important to have goals, so for the past couple of years, i've been in-training with the whole drinking thing. there was a time when those two gin-and-tonics would have turned my face completely flush and numb. i would sit there pushing my thumb against my cheek or biting my bottom lip, like that little game you play when the novocaine is starting to wear off. back then, i wouldn't have been able to drive my own car home after two drinks. i was what the ladies called a cheap date. not anymore though, i'm getting much better.

last seen: stuck on you, big fish, and the first 14 episodes of what's happening!- season one
last heard: the owls 'baby boy' [editor's note: our hopes and dreams is my newest crush; don't tell underachievers please try harder.]
last read: Eisenstein promised to shorten the kiss and the beard - and to justify the cruelty.

Sunday, June 06, 2004

when the alarm blared at 6:30 yesterday morning, on what was technically my day off, there was a brief moment when i second-guessed this whole volunteering thing and wondered whether i wouldn't feel better just sleeping in until midday, fixing pancakes, then reading the paper on the front porch. by the time i was out of the shower though, i'd already forgotten how warm and soft my bed was and reminded myself that i promised to help.

the mayor's office and the public library teamed up to have a job fair for teens since most of the schools around town are just letting out for the summer.

i arrived two hours before it started to set up tables and hang signs and direct arriving employers and make photocopies. you can never tell what the turnout for something like this is going to be, since predicting attendance at library (co-)sponsored programs is, at best, an imprecise science. over 500 people showed up, surprising everyone. true, some of the 500 were parents, but i'd say more than two-thirds were kids. it helps that my branch is physically-connected to a high school. this made advertising easy and the day a success.

after tearing down the last of the tables, i headed to north davidson for the queen of arts fest. i'd been there the night before for the gallery crawl, so it ended up being a very NoDa sort of weekend. there were people everywhere and kids and dogs; music on three different stages, large chalk murals on the sidewalks. someone even opened a fireplug, sending a thick column of water out into the street.

last seen: the core
last heard: crosby, stills, nash and young 'almost cut my hair'
last read: "We need to restrain what are growing U.S. messianic instincts - a sort of global social engineering where the United States feels it is both entitled and obligated to promote democracy - by force if necessary", said Senator Pat Roberts, a conservative Kansas member of Bush's Republican Party and chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, in a speech last week that was understood here as a direct shot at the neo-cons.

Friday, June 04, 2004

i don't think i told you this story before. there was this guy, an army ranger, who used to work with my dad. he had a south louisiana accent, a really hot wife, and a big bushy mustache just like william h. macy and a whole bunch of gay guys from the 70s used to wear. anyway, this guy was big into scuba diving. so, one day, he up and decides to teach my dad and a couple of guys from the office the basics of open-water diving. there are about four pupils, if i remember correctly, plus me. i was in seventh grade.

you know how in most diving classes there is classroom instruction and a couple of controlled-dives in a swimming pool and it is all slow and stretched out over several weeks? this was in no way like the class that army ranger guy taught. i seem to remember a couple of classes in the evenings at my dad’s office. there was an overhead projector involved and some talk about blood gases and the bends, then it was out into the choppy water of the pacific.

i had all of my gear on; some of it belonged to the army ranger guy’s wife, because i was so small. also, i had a belt with lead weights on it that i thought was really cool. we were standing on the bottom, about ten feet down, practicing this exercise where they take your regulator (mouthpiece) out of your mouth and throw it over your shoulder. it is supposed to teach you how to stay calm and fish around behind you and find your air supply.

well, i flailed a bit and discovered that my tiny arms were too short to reach behind me, clear of the air tank, to find my regulator, so after a short while i panicked. i looked above me and could see the not-quite-round ball of the sun kind of dancing around on top of the water, then, all at once, i breathed in...underwater.

my dad and army ranger guy lifted me up out of the water and walked me back to shore. i got to sit on a blanket with army ranger guy’s really hot wife for the rest of the afternoon. oh, and also, i didn't get the bends. that was my adventure in diving.

last seen: 3 women
last heard: earth, wind, and fire 'love's holiday'
last read: One consequence of this is that most names are found at low frequencies (Hannibal, Eustace, Phoenix).
bonus: there seems to be a lot of fine print, but if you use this coupon between now and sunday at borders, they'll take off 10% and donate money to ALA

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

i almost got hit by a car last night. it was so exciting.

i was on my bike. the light up ahead had just turned red and i was too impatient to wait for it to change back, so i jumped a curb, cut a corner, and, when i was merging back into the street, there was a gigantic car barreling toward me which weighed at least three-thousand-pounds more than i do. there were screeching tires and everything. it was just like a movie. i was surprised that there was no horn-honking or expletive-shouting, since it was all my fault.

just as i was about to get smooshed, time slowed down. i remember pulling the hand lever and the rear brake catching and the momentum of me-plus-bike moving forward in a skid for just the slightest distance before everything finally froze. at that point i was standing, balanced, on the pedals, like i was thinking about what i should do next. meanwhile, on my left side, a snarling mass of hot chrome and white painted metal was crowding my field of vision.

i’m almost embarrassed to tell you how i felt next. standing there, like that, with my entire body clammy and moist from a cold sweat, the only thing i could think was right now, all of these people in all of these stopped cars are looking at me and how i almost got killed. so, i did the only thing i could do. i pedaled. i pedaled very fast down this one road and then took a quick right turn through a little park and kept pedaling, up a small hill, until my legs gave out. i pedaled partly because i was scared from almost dying and partly because i didn't want people staring at me anymore.

last heard: monade 'the swimm'
last read: It sounds like you're rapping over a Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass song.