The moon is not full. My wine glass is not either. But walking here, walking to Drew Geer's room to use the internet, walking from my house to here, enjoying the cold front that has moved through, the breezy chilliness, the darkness, the feeling that it is not endless summer, that smell, that cold gracing my skin reminding me of things, so many things. Virginia. Fall, walking my dog around blocks that also had that smell, this smell of crisp air, so fucking crisp. Halloween is around the corner. Forward or backward, I do not know. I think of walking with my sister and random neighborhood kids around blocks, door to door, smelling this smell, trick or treat, plastic bags, porch lights lit, the Mary Janes that no one likes but me - and I want to take these memories and throw them over myself like raked up fall leaves. I didn't take out the trash yesterday - we used to put our leaves in black trash cans.
Walking here, enjoying the chill, life in practice, not just in theory - I felt a drop, a couple of them, of Pinot Noir splash out of my glass and onto my skin, my nervous skin. I glanced down, taking in what had just happened visually - but to no effect, it is night time, it is dark. You really can not see much. I saw something better. The not full moon reflecting in the wine of my not full glass, white ripples bouncing around within my not full wine glass, a blue one.
I took a shower this morning, a really quick one at high noon exactly and then hopped on my bike, put two wheels in motion, circular motion and made my way to Beki's room, gathered her, made her stop eating granola so we could make it to a movie in a short twenty mintues downtown. About halfway downtown, one of my wheels halted its fast circular motion and became a smaller circle than my other wheel, my front tire. My rear tire was completely flat and so I biked as hard as I could, so fucking slow regardless, regardless of my desires to move move move, frustrating me to no end, impotence, and yes, there is Beki already two blocks ahead of me. Three. Out of sight. Finally we made it there, very winded, bought tickets, and sat down to see The Rules of Attraction, which was really good and I cannot decide if it is good in a really trashy way as Beki argues, saying that the only reason I liked it was because it excited my "penile gland," whatever that is - you are going to have to ask Beki, or if it was a really awesome movie. I really liked the movie while watching it even though Beki sighed throughout the whole thing about how cheesy she thought it was, but now after eating chips and dip with Beki in the crease on a new picnic table made out of recycled plastic, talking to her about it, I am beginning to think that it is old, dated, too nineties, too detached. And I am new, and we can do better. Let's engage ourselves sincerely with each other and with this world, let's fucking rock and roll as James van der Beek's character would say, as he would say quite a few times, in fact if just given the opportunity, if asked the question. Rock and roll. What's your answer, asshole? Rock and roll or nay.
Since my bike is so insanely difficult to ride, making scary metallic noises as the rims scratch against the asphalt, I borrowed Beki's bike later this afternoon to go to work, to go to work non-winded. Made pizza pies, round ones, listened to classic rock, felt the crisp air even in Domino's. It followed me in. Sneaky sneaky.t