puddle jumper

most of us have been waiting for this for four days.

for four days now, the weather report claimed thunderstorms all day. each day began with a grey tone sky, maybe a light drizzle. by mid-afternoon it would be sunny again, eighty-five degrees.

sometimes the clouds would deceive a tumultuous storm brewing beyond a mountain. usually this happened at about eight o'clock in the evening. it might rain for a small while, nothing special. definitely no relief for the gummed up sky. and the humidity would be ferocious. like trying to suck air from a wet towel. everything was still thirsty.

it lasted about six minutes. water dropping from a bright white sky as if each drop were a ton of weight sealed up in a teeny translucent package. no squirrels, no birds or bugs. everybody was hiding. a green glow oozed over. it turned out to be cold, especially on feet. thunder sounded much like the marching band camp practicing late at night a half a mile away at umass. once i even thought that their drums were the sound of thunder.

now everything is beautiful and wet. and it seems as though in another six minutes it will happen all over again...

...Helicopter-like flight enables California leaf-nosed bats to pluck insects directly from foliage without even having to slow down...

I believe that this quite accurately describes the way in which I have been grabbed up by my life long pals.

Shout out, yo.

I must tell you about the absolutely smashing sick day that I took today. I woke up at a comfortable ten fifty-three a.m. to immediately give Circles his daily batch of bloodworms to munch on and then jump on my bike. I took my bike to a nearby Watroba's market to buy three things: (1) a batch of 8 eggs (2) a small top round steak and (3) a new york times. It took me two register runs and an extra demand for a set of matches before I left the market's inside to sit at the outside picnic table. From there I made a bunch of phone calls that went absolutely nowhere and read an article about the increasing incidence of rape in Baghdad. On that note, I decided to put the newspaper away and save it for an hour or two before I would go to sleep so that I would have slightly more worldly dreams that night. I am tired of dreaming about things that are all too familiar. I rode toward home, jotting a phone number down on the way of a used Civic that has just enough tiny patches of rust to be within my price range. When I arrived at home I had a few good words with the kitty cat, Zero; something I can only do when nobody is watching. Next I went totally ape shit cleaning the house and getting my laundry in order which, to some, is a very exhilirating feeling. I found two things that I thought I had lost (in order of importance): (1) my chapstick and (2) my house key. In my whirlwind, somewhere between scraping toothpaste off the sink and rearranging the contents of the refrigerator, I had applied as a volunteer to the Smith College Museum of Art. Since I refuse to file papers, make phone calls, or request money from strangers at any time in my life, my job would be as a museum greeter. I think that this is an absolutely wonderful job to have because I can either expand upon my already delightful personality or, on the other hand, work out some of the kinks. I will let you know which one it is when the first ass munch who confuses the universal sign for "stairs" as "escalator" inquires to me about why he/she has to work his/her lazy ass to get to a lousy painting. I can't wait. Next I began to gather together the scrumptious dinner that I had been fantasizing about all day when I receive a phone call from my co-worker Lynn, who had been at work all day. She retells me the drama that had occurred earlier that afternoon when the fire alarm had mistakenly gone off because a few inexperienced welders took a lesson in ventilation while installing our new hot water heater. This all occurred during the most coveted part of my work day: nap time. The children woke up in unheard of hysterics. About that time, I was putting a clear coat on my nails to scrape off later. Love love love sick days. I then prepared a widly delicious meal which included top round steak marinated in a balsamic vinagarette, penne pasta in vodka sauce, and fresh green beans drenched in salt, pepper, and butter. With a full stomach, I then proceeded to give myself the worst haircut I have ever given myself. My mother would think it was too precious but question as to whether my fascination with my new garbage disposal somehow crossed a bad path with my imagination. Now I am waiting for my room mate to awake and fix it up a tad. I can see a small reflection of myself in the window and it doesn't look half bad this time around. Still, next time I see you...just be honest.

smoke shop haikus.

(1)
people on main street
walk to the corner and pause.
the shops stay behind.

(2)
the girl is just short.
the penny jar lies empty.
she'll return the favor.

(3)
an old man i've met
sold antiques and parakeets.
repeat after me.

(4)
(according to ancient rules of haiku, this one is perfect...)

the dishes pile
so high that i can't keep up.
soon the ants will come.



i guess it's about time i dropped a line on my own site. no matter how stupid.