2005-12-02
(no subject)
The weather is bright and thin. Sunny, twenty-five degrees. Apparently it was only fifteen degrees earlier. Even though I was fine on my half-mile walk to the office from the train, didn't even need gloves, I did notice that the medium-knit texture of my hat was a lot more obviously medium-knit: that is to say, the air was sneaking in, infiltrating, lifting heat from my scalp and erasing it. The disappearing ink of breath steaming out from nostrils, the reverse lemon-juice-on-paper-over-candle of touching skin to metal.
Heat is ephemeral in Chicago's landscape today.
But, I have chicken shawarma, and the yellow rice is riddled with cloves, and there is a half moon of pita bread wrapped in wax paper, ready for me to swipe it through the spatula's worth of hummus in one section of my styrofoam-packaged meal.
There is always more hot cocoa.
One makes do, even when one is being chilled so, so thoroughly.
Heat is ephemeral in Chicago's landscape today.
But, I have chicken shawarma, and the yellow rice is riddled with cloves, and there is a half moon of pita bread wrapped in wax paper, ready for me to swipe it through the spatula's worth of hummus in one section of my styrofoam-packaged meal.
There is always more hot cocoa.
One makes do, even when one is being chilled so, so thoroughly.
I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
The seat belt bruise today is an appealing pea soup color, with an overlay of pale saffron yellow.
No neck pain, no rib cage pain, and I got 7 hours of sleep so things seem a bit more real today.
I still can't really look at the car. I wonder how long I can leave it there, on the street, covered lightly with snow and looking absolutely undamaged from a couple different angles ...
I suppose I should dig out the title. Have the insurance company number handy. Sigh. It's like a weird rite of passage that I've never really had to go through, before. I guess I should consider myself lucky that that car lasted me nine years.
It's been bumped and scratched and dented and filled with 5 boys and myself (earning it the nickname "The Clown Car") and it's got Powerpuff Girls floormats and a blue M&M plushie hanging from the rearview and a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover and a Strong Bad decal on the hatch window and the A/C doesn't work and the back seat is scattered over with mix tapes and flyers in Spanish.
No neck pain, no rib cage pain, and I got 7 hours of sleep so things seem a bit more real today.
I still can't really look at the car. I wonder how long I can leave it there, on the street, covered lightly with snow and looking absolutely undamaged from a couple different angles ...
I suppose I should dig out the title. Have the insurance company number handy. Sigh. It's like a weird rite of passage that I've never really had to go through, before. I guess I should consider myself lucky that that car lasted me nine years.
It's been bumped and scratched and dented and filled with 5 boys and myself (earning it the nickname "The Clown Car") and it's got Powerpuff Girls floormats and a blue M&M plushie hanging from the rearview and a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover and a Strong Bad decal on the hatch window and the A/C doesn't work and the back seat is scattered over with mix tapes and flyers in Spanish.
Poker table.
A quick shot of the poker table during a hand when ThaJinx was dealing, and I was timing, during the Tombstone Hold 'Em event in Los Angeles for the Alternate Reality Game, Last Call Poker.