Thursday, March 13, 2003

for the children (who else?)

The house is empty. Emptier. Bonnie is in Utah. Jamie is in New York. Bonnie's absense is only for a couple of days, but Jamie has moved back to New York, has gotten a jump start on her post-collegiate life, and the house will be emptier. There will be two occupants. My tennis and scrabble partner has departed today, has left for "NYC". Of course, where else, but to an acronym? This morning, I woke up at 6 and rode with Bonnie to the Tampa airport, slept in the backseat with Becky, and saw the sun also slowly getting up, rising over the water, reflecting onto it. A flash, the stillframe of the sun, the water, the sun's reflection on this water, and the Sunshine Skyway, and then eyes close again, sleep, Tampa airport and then it was my turn to drive this car back over these roads, retrace my steps, wake up.

And now I have her car for a couple of days, can drive behind the wheel of a large automobile, blare rock n roll, feel wind blowing against me, use gasoline, and feel that American high of roads, stoplights, good songs on the radio, and Taco Bell late at night. And I can, and I did, and I will tomorrow too. I will every fucking day that my body is able. Tomorrow the intention, today's intention for tomorrow, the current state's hope for the future, the tomorrow that today would like to live in will involve going to the beach. Seista? Eating food there, finding a place to get a milkshake, swimming in the goddamn fucking waters that surround this state, that will surround me tomorrow, maybe even peeing in these fucking waters, adding my own fluids to the earth's if my bladder is full and I spend enough time at the beach. I am going to bring some of the items that I stole from Barnes and Nobles today and read them there, on the sand. And I am going to tell myself certain things that I will do in future tomorrows, how I will get a second job to save money, how I will move to NY in one month's time, how I will do this or that, maybe both, or I'll pretend I am on vacation, that I am living in the Sunshine fucking State and I will let the heat fuck with my mind like it always does, like I love for it to do.

And I am living the fucking vacation lifestyle. I am not in school. I live in Florida, I spend my days playing tennis or soaking up the sun, that fucking early riser, soaking it up at the pool. I go on bike rides, I take in sights and scents. I spend just about any alone moments at home masturbating like I am living in the end times. I wear sleeveless shirts when the mood strikes me, when the heat does. Something about if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen - and I did, got out of it, stepped into the heat, the sunrays of pools and beaches, and I am going to go underwater tomorrow because I feel like Benjamin Braddock. I don't know what to do with myself. And I don't even have a Mrs. Robinson that I am fucking during this pool time.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. In other news, news concerning today, everyday, I am in love, madly in love with a lad by the name of David Bowie. Hmm, I think he is the most amazing person ever!!! One of the items acquried at Barnes and Nobles today was an issue of Uncut with a CD of all these people covering old Bowie songs - a sizable portion of them are aweseome fucking covers. Culture Club, Duran Duran, Blondie, Guy Chadwick. And now I am listening to the covered artist, the amazing young lad in utter rapture, astounded that someone can be so talented, and so happy for all of us, filled with hope for you, but more importantly, for me, for fucking me, that great things are indeed possible.

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