HOW ABOUT THAT?

June 9, 2009

No coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Coffee grounds are bad. Small bones are OK says the manual. Airplanes whir by, left hear right ear and then gone. Hard to read a two page article online. When the end of the first page comes up and you have to click on “2” the first instinct is to say hell with it. Check the baseball score. See the published corpse photos of the actor who just died in Hong Kong. Watch a video of a school girl getting knifed in Arkansas. Clicking to the next page about an article debating whether corn syrup processing is more or less harmful to the environment than sugar cane production just doesn’t seem sexy.

Do you like the new nickel design? They brought the buffalo back. When I was little it was a joy to find a buffalo nickel. Now the supermarket change dispenser gives them to me by the handful. June gloom. Belly doom. You’d think in the desert the summer would come hot and grinning, like a circus clown out of your closet. I have to find a new place to live and I have become almost sexually aroused by hardwood floors, fresh carpeting and new faucet fixtures. My girlfriend tried to make it with me last night and I didn’t want to but I did it anyway. I was thinking about that place on Horizon and whether it was worth 995.00 a month even though the closets were so small. She likes growling. She likes saying “Thank You” afterwards. I just want to laugh afterwards. Because everything is better. But it’s not. And that’s funny.

The printer in the back is whirring like a black hawk helicopter. I think about my girlfriend’s brother in Iraq and pray that he doesn’t go down in a flaming roar a month before he comes back for good and hangs out with us at Disneyland. That’s where he wants to go first. Cotton candy. Photos with Snow White. I want to ask him lots of questions. Does killing a man change the way you take shit from parking cops? Does your wife become an abstract notion like relativity when you don’t see her for a year? After reading about a kid who gets over his cowardice during the siege of Leningrad I realized that I am a coward but have no way to prove myself otherwise. Making lots of money. That’s how you do it these days. Having a flat belly. Writing a hit song.

Met a guy at a two bedroom by the beach who was leaving his flat because he was “taking a long walk.” I was like “Huh?” and he was like, “Yeah, I walked from Alaska to Baja Mexico last year and now I want to go back the other way.” I hated him because it sounded great. Horrible but great. There’s all sorts of people doing really great things. I stick around for the dental benefits and free lunch. I stick around to hear the distant pitter-patter of the drum circle down the block on the beach fading into the darkness as the blood-orange sun gets eaten by the salt-mouthed sea. I stick around to see if anyone will notice. How about that?

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