I was driving home from the
thrift store with a bunch of new
cloth napkins and looked up at the sky. I almost hit the brakes, because I was splashed with a wave of
intense melancholy. The sky looked like a
damned Hobie t shirt - it started at dark cadet blue, then faded and segued to
deep orange. Silhouetted against this
SoCal background were the date palms and crappy one story
rental houses that hold more people than their leases allow.
I was struck by the strangeness of being someplace that was distinctly
not home. Arizona is a nice place to
visit, but I don't want to live here. I crave mud as opposed to
dust, and pines as opposed to
palms.
I finished driving home and washed all of my
new napkins, and made myself some
angel hair pasta. My room mate clogged the kitchen sink - the side with the
garbage disposal - so I got the added treat of clearing out the drain. It was stuffed with
ruby red grapefruit rinds and pulp. While I was
completely fucking aggravated that this mess had been left, I was thankful that it wasn't something meat based, which would surely have smelled much worse.
I am considering feeding my room mate to the
terrible seething gimletchops. He undoubtedly deserves it.