Morning never comes as a shock on saturdays, unless I think that it is monday. Today I woke up knowing what day it was. That is more than many can say. The subliminal whirl of a fan accented the waking. Wash. Shower. Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat. Brush. Brush. Comb. Smile. Take Vitamin. Smoke. Breathe. Wake.
I went to the OK cafe where everything is OK 24 hours a day. I thought of a woman I loved... love still (though the romance I dreamed of has long since left). She is a long way from me now. And in recent years I never took advantage of the closeness, only bitterly blamed time and space and emotional distances that I, myself, created. So I ate the sweet-potato chips and maytag bleu cheese burger and I drank the chocolate malt with extra malt. And I remembered when we were inseperable. And I remembered the christmas I wanted to tell her... and I remembered the lead singer of the cure and I remembered smiling while my heart broke. And then I smiled at the thought of two cats (that were fixed) trying to mate. I remembered laughing and talking and thought about how she can make me so mad and how she could make me smile. And how, in her way, and in my way, we love each other still...
I bought DvDs and a NIC while disco that should have stayed dead moved the middle aged white men to dance in place. I bought new shoes at 80% off as a store owner's dream disintigrated and unruly children tussled and unruly adults vied for the scraps of a businessman's dream. I drove past all the old places. Places I lived, places I worked, places I dreamed and places I died inside while no one knew who I was or why I was there. I watched the hookers on Ponce and the students on North and noted the very near ages of the groups and became melancholy.
The DvD is spinning up and my mountain Dew is warm and I would die to be alone for five minutes just to remember who I am... but that will have to wait for tomorrow and I know it...
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