summertime vignettes
faces blurred like graphite smudged along an infinite line
In an effort to go undetected, I wore a black hat today. I spoke with colleagues, shared excitement and condolences where appropriate, and on the way home, I listened to The Brook and The Bluff’s “Don’t Worry Baby,” synced with the train platforms passing by as every song always is when it’s time to reflect. Faces blurred like graphite smudged along an infinite line.
I glided down eight to ten blocks of concrete and brick today, noticed that the uphill is more pronounced going from Folsom to Shotwell on 24th street, and I thought about my parents as I usually do after a long day of work.
There was that time I brought home leftover pizza after a night out. It was late, probably in the AMs, and my mom peeked beneath the cardboard lid like a curious cat. I said it’s not much, but help yourself, and she ate the remaining bites with a certain light in her eyes, the kind you’d see in a kid licking a snow cone after a long day at the park.
When I barrel down the street these days, I’m calculating velocity and t-minus x seconds before the light turns red. Can I make it after all?
Another time, my dad cut a hole through the window netting in my bedroom and stuck a big fat tube out of it, airflow for the portable AC, its size perfect for cooling down a room without wasting energy on hallways or downstairs, where cool air settles on its own.
I’m in my room now. It’s twilight, and I haven’t time to ruminate. There’s not much to write home except for what I’ve written and what you’ve now read, and every next thing I write sounds like a truism, a cold hard truth nonetheless. Their placations, as rehearsed:
Life’s unfair : Have some more perspective You gotta do what you gotta do : Alternatively, try something new Don’t take no for an answer : Some things, you just have to let goAlas, a prior commitment is upon us. It’s time to go.