My Feet, at this moment, Are Tingling

These are words going together, letters going to gether and measure the great frankness of nodding.

"Iunderstoodupuntilthepartaboutleather.:"

Well, says the narrator, that's good. That's good that something not written makes sense, as we fall into this typical post-modern construct, delineated by proper punctuation. The narrator talks about himself in the third person, but talks about others as if he's dead and they've forgotten him, which makes him a third first person third person omniscient limited narrator. Right? I think that's right. Or should I say, "He thinks that's right."

In other news, the baby I'm having is a squirrel; sandwiches in Winters are hard to come by; and Martin Luther King has a pretty direct connection to Johnny Depp.

I got a haircut

Today the summer seems endless: empty days stretching to the horizon to be filled with whims and glad routines. Today is the promise of bike rides, of day drinks, complicated recipes, of The Price Is Right, of nothing. I am sitting here at 5 in the evening next to a just sipped cup of coffee, in no hurry and happy. I know tomorrow it will be August already

Disneyland Part 2

It's a tender thing to say, "I got this Diet Coke for you. I got  you this because you looked thirsty and I know Diet Coke is what you drink these days." It is meaningful when one, not sure how to say anything else, asks, "Would you like some Nutella and pineapple?"

In other news, The burly usher at the Disney light show belted the lyrics to every song in the "World of Color" medley; at some point, ice cream is replaced with Monster; and high school students wear Disney sweatshirts that say "Husband" and "Wife," fully aware of the emptiness of these promises.

Disneyland

Pounds of flesh converging aimlessly in crowds: That these cells, here, glob into meaning and become this thing in a starbuck's line, black pants tucked into neon green shoes, craving connection, and these cells, here, converge to run down a half empty street towards a dance floor, fist in the air. This thing and all other things breathing.