Archive for May, 2012|Monthly archive page

on memorial day

I am a day early with this, but it is on my mind and I shouldn’t let it go to waste.

memorial day is coming up in a few hours. memorial day means a lot of things to a lot of people. the neighborhood pool is opening up down near my dad’s in Alexandria. someone will pay attention to the Indianapolis 500. many hot dogs and much watermelon will be eaten. the summer unofficially arrives. and on monday, mom will drive around Indiana and visit the family graves.

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this shuffle

I’m very slowly writing a short story. first two installments here and here. note the changes in tone — because every 300 words I take six weeks off. but better late than never, I guess. I’ve had plenty of time to lie around with the computer in the last two days. so what the hell, we’ll see where this is going. there will be more:

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this ache

I got Ben-Hur going. it’s the chariot race scene right now. have you ever seen this movie? holy shit.

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baloney roll-ups

I’m watching a hockey game.

Rangers v Capitals, game seven from Madison Square Garden. the Caps beat the Boston Bruins in seven in their last series, and now they’ve got the number-one seed on its home ice, and I know nothing about hockey save the Stanley Cup playoffs are always entertaining, and the Caps being a game away from the conference finals is enough to get me to stream game seven online on the other busted-ass laptop that I own. it’s through a website with an .eu fix. it’s buggy as hell, and regularly brings the broadcast in via Sweden — at least I think they’re speaking Swedish … or some sort of Scandinavian nonsense. yeah, that’s right, nonsense.

but tonight’s broadcast is brought to you by CBC, and that means lots of Tim Horton’s ads, Hockey Night in Canada, and yes, Coach’s Corner. most of what I know of Don Cherry comes from a Propagandhi song that describes him a war-mongering, nationalist nutjob. and whiel I can’t speak to that, he’s a pretty strange lookin’ son of a bitch regardless. I guess dressing like a carnival barker is his thing. and hey, everybody needs a thing.

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up late on a school night

yesterday was a warm, hazy evening. welcome to May, the haze said. and I needed to get out and into it, so after the sun went down, my brother picked me up. I wasn’t paying attention to my phone, so he came around the back of my apartment building, sidearmed a few rocks at my window and yelled my name. and we went out driving.

Washington is a busy place. even now it’s impressing this truth upon me — a police siren, for instance, just went down the street a block over at full blast at 11:40 pm.

and now back to silence. tomorrow morning the blocks between here and my office will be flush with people and traffic, but if you time it right, if you cut out in the evening for a cruise — and this cruise I speak of, there is an art to it — you can push aside the reality that is DC’s high population density and familiarize yourself with Wasington’s streetscape, with the way it’s laid out, how it’s connected, all without the hassle of noise. no traffic, no horns. everything very zen.

these rides don’t necessarily lead anywhere save to open and rolling conversation. there is usually only a vague goal: to the car wash. to buy a Snapple. to Taco Bell. but the details don’t matter. to hell with them. because sometimes when reality piles up on me, when I’m stumped as to what to do with myself, what the next move will be and when everything feels a litle hopeless, these expeditions serve as a personal lodestar … or maybe as an anchor of sorts. I’m not sure which is the better metaphor.

“and we’re off,” my brother deadpanned as I slouched into the passenger seat. “who knows where this will lead?” hell if I knew then that it would be a 7-Eleven near Takoma Park. but really, it didn’t matter. because truth is, it’s never hopeless. it just takes a little bit of clarity to recognize that, on occasion.