i wish i was a nomad, an indian or a saint | 13.60 km
“isn’t this just the most adorable weather?” the woman behind the counter of the bakery is asking me while she’s squinting her eyes to look outside onto the sidewalk that is glaring with bright sunday morning sun.
“it certainly is. feels like april…” i’m mumbling and while i’m still pondering about whether a weather can actually be ‘adorable’ she continues semisoliloquizing:
“and in california governor schwarzenegger has declared the state of emergency because it’s so cold there! what can i get you?”
“a sunflowerseedbread, please.”
“cut?”
“if that’s possible…”
“oh, you know: we can do almost anything” and she’s winking at me.
walking back home through the quiet streets felt weird. there were mostly young couples pushing strollers or people rushing to get the last seat in church. i took a detour to my house because the music on the walkman was so wholesome (suzanne’s “song in red & gray”) and i knew that the apartment would be empty and quiet. and since i had to get straight to work on my return i walked through an extra street. i really like the district i’m living in. granted, it’s dirty and deteriorated, but it’s lively. i went to see princess superstar (still have to come up with a new name) yesterday and after she had cooked for me and we had watched a couple of seinfeld episodes (during which she fell asleep) we went out, and even though it was a saturday night and not even eleven o’clock the streets of the district where she lives were empty and desolate and we had trouble finding a nice bar. on my way back home the tram cut through half of the city, and when it crossed the avenue into my district suddenly there were literally hundreds of people on the street even though it was almost one in the morning.
- later - (much later in fact)
corrected term papers followed by more thesis work. didn’t set a foot outside except for getting some bread. didn’t talk to anyone except for a telephone conversation with elaine this afternoon. thought too much. about stupid stuff. like berlin. like that i need to write a good song pretty badly. like that i need to get a life that makes sense pretty badly, too (’making sense’ is obviously an aphorism. no, make this ‘euphemism’). then i thought about you and then about you and you and you. then i put on another cd and tried to remember the time that music managed to cheer me up. then i thought some more useless stuff and slowly the thoughts turned into memories and i tried to transform them back into thoughts but they stayed that way defiantly and mocked me in technicolor.
“Is the glass half-full or empty?” I ask her as I fill it
She said it doesn’t really matter, pretty soon you’re bound to spill it.
With the half logic language of the sermon she delivers
And the way she smiles so knowingly at me gives me the shivers
by the way, thanks kelvin for the isis/sirius connection.
