Jim can't get away from the Michael Jackson death. Everyone is talking. The media spews 24 hours of white noise coverage. Jim reflects on Jackson's impact on culture in the last 40 years. No need to hear what Celine Dion has to say. It's all the same. We all dance. Jim walks down the street and hears "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" coming from a passing car. A smile comes to his face as he remembers dancing with his then girlfriend at his best friend's wedding. Not a bored face anywhere.
This memory is stopped by the sight of a middle aged man selling RIP Michael Jackson shirts from the back of his van. He sighs. Culture's thousands of layers upon us bearing down. Jim just went home and slept.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Cot.
The overcast made everything glare. The pain behind my eyes is intense. I'm not really sure what time it is. This mass curled up behind my leg. Mouse, the cat. She means well but is usually in the way. I pry myself up.
I did decent things last night. I didn't get too much sleep. I really don't sleep too much anymore. I feel it's time for a new bed. But that doesn't matter now. Because I need to fall back asleep in this cot. I place a pillow on my head, but it reeks of cat. I have visions of rashes and blisters on my face when I wake up. The overcast glare is intense. Still have no idea what time it is.
A late start to the day happens as much was planned. But I don't feel the day is wasted. I usually do. But with good reason I was up watching TV at 4 in the morning. It's all paid programming at that time by the way. In my faded stupor, I needed those products.
I get some breakfast, feeling like I floated there. These old men are talking. One is smoking and one has a sweet pair of New Balance sneakers on. They seem fresher than me today.
I did decent things last night. I didn't get too much sleep. I really don't sleep too much anymore. I feel it's time for a new bed. But that doesn't matter now. Because I need to fall back asleep in this cot. I place a pillow on my head, but it reeks of cat. I have visions of rashes and blisters on my face when I wake up. The overcast glare is intense. Still have no idea what time it is.
A late start to the day happens as much was planned. But I don't feel the day is wasted. I usually do. But with good reason I was up watching TV at 4 in the morning. It's all paid programming at that time by the way. In my faded stupor, I needed those products.
I get some breakfast, feeling like I floated there. These old men are talking. One is smoking and one has a sweet pair of New Balance sneakers on. They seem fresher than me today.
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